A Touch of Temptation(26)
His throat felt raw at her matter-of-fact admission. But buried beneath it there had been...hurt. Her attachment to her company, her isolated lifestyle... Suddenly his perspective shifted, as though he had been looking at her until now through a dirtied window.
“I think I’ve had enough excitement for the night,” she said softly, puncturing his thoughts. Her fingers clasped his arm. “Can we leave?”
He nodded and guided her toward the exit, his palm staying on her back. He couldn’t tear his gaze from her, however.
She looked breathtakingly beautiful, every curve and dip of her sexy body outlined in that damned dress, every step she took grace embodied.
Whether it was her disconcerting statement, or the weary look in her eyes, he didn’t see the aggravatingly prickly woman she had become.
Instead she reminded him of the night he had met her, on the cruise ship six years ago. The memory stole through him like an insidious drug, catching him unawares.
She had been standing alone on the deck, away from the rest of the crowd. Wind had been whipping her hair; her green knee-length dress had been molded against her slender figure.
None of the usual festivities that attracted a nineteen-year-old—dancing or drinking—had grabbed her interest. She had looked utterly alone, heart-wrenchingly alluring, driving every dormant instinct of his to the surface. He had observed her for over an hour before he had approached her.
They had done no more than exchange their names that night, but he had spent over two hours teasing a smile from her. And when she had smiled he had found the most thrilling, satisfying joy in it. He had felt on top of the world.
That was how she looked now.
Infinitely fragile and unraveled, as if the tiniest pressure might splinter her perfection apart. She was hurt by her father’s outbursts, though for the wrong reasons.
That flash of vulnerability shredded the anger and scorn with which he had covered up his desire. He had only deceived himself that it was all gone. Need and something more sinuous glided through his veins.
He wanted to grab her by those dainty shoulders and shake her until she realized she didn’t need her father’s approval, conditional or otherwise. He wanted to kiss her just as much as he wanted to provoke her, until her beautiful eyes sparkled with that infuriating combination of logic and desire. But he couldn’t—not if he wanted to keep his sanity intact.
He couldn’t fight the feeling that he knew very little about the woman he had married six years ago. Her statement that what she’d represented to him was the reason why he had wanted her pricked like a thorn in his side.
What if there was more to why she had left him? Was he culpable too? And, if he was, why didn’t the aggravating woman call him on it?
CHAPTER SIX
KIM SLID FROM the luxurious bed in Diego’s spare bedroom— or one of the six spare bedrooms. She cast a glance toward the digital alarm clock on the nightstand. It was only five minutes past seven.
Diego’s housekeeper, Anna, had mentioned a pool out on the terrace. She needed to burn off some of her restless energy.
Walking into the closet, which was the size of her living room, she searched for her swimsuit. By the time Kim had returned from work the day after she had moved in, Anna had unpacked everything for her.
Spotting the trendy one-piece she had bought recently, Kim tugged off her pajamas and tank top.
She knew why she felt so restless. Coordinating her move into Diego’s penthouse to be when he was out of the country had felt like the best idea. Except now she couldn’t dwell on anything else.
Would he be pleased? What if he had changed his mind? She had been on tenterhooks for days after the awards ceremony, waiting for him to manipulate something, anything, in order to get her to move.
But he had surprised her with a strangely disappointing silence.
His words at the awards ceremony wouldn’t leave her alone, though. Neither had she been able to get Liv’s face, when she had waylaid her on the steps of the Plaza, out of her head. Liv had clutched at Kim’s hand, concern pinching her mobile mouth.
Her every action, every word, since she had learned of her pregnancy had been directed by the selfish need to protect herself, to make sure she didn’t reveal the slightest weakness in front of Diego. She had conveniently pushed Liv away, refused to share anything, uncaring of how worried she might be.
When had she stopped caring about everyone else’s feelings along with her own? When had the lines between being strong and selfishness blurred? Would she continue to push Diego away because he was the one man who had the power to hurt her, to drive her to weakness?
Would she do that when she had the child too? Would she put her own well-being first always? Would she put herself before her child as her own mother had done?