Baby By Accident(2)

All of this must be true because the man she’d loved for months and who knew her better than anyone had told it to her straight.

She’d easily dismiss her boss’s insult.

She couldn’t do the same to Robert’s.

However, it still didn’t mean she had to take anything from this man next to her. The bitter taste in her mouth bubbled down into her throat. “Bite me.”

A choked laugh escaped him. “This is an amazing transformation.”

She managed to glare at the bartender, if not him. “Get me a drink.”

With a sigh, the man beside her nodded his agreement. “I will take care of her.”

If she did stand on a pedestal, then she’d take the experience and make it work in her favor. She’d build the pedestal so high, it would be impossible for any man to touch her. Touch her in any way. Take care of her in any way. “I don't need to be taken care of.”

“Aha! The formidable woman I know makes an appearance.”

Lise stared down at her left hand, clutched on the wooden roll of the bar. Her focus zoomed in and out, in and out, making her hand appear large and then small. Large and small. Large and small. And ringless.

She sucked in a breath. A dizzy spray of grief mixed with pure rage shifted her center of gravity. Dimly, she noticed she wasn’t centered on her stool—she…she…

“Hold on.” The Italian jerk’s warm hand grasped her elbow and righted her. The heat of him cut through the linen of her suit, making her even dizzier.

“Uh.” She closed her eyes again, trying to bring her concentration back into focus.

“You are finished, Princesse.”

She really needed another drink.

“No, you do not,” he said.

Had she said something? A male body suddenly pressed hot along her side and her feet came out from under her. Her eyes flew open to meet his.

Tawny tiger eyes. Twinkling with wicked, delighted triumph.

“What are you doing?” She tried to struggle, tried to make the words crisp and clear.

“I am rescuing you.” His arms tightened around her, quelling her feeble rebellion. “An astonishing development.”

Her head flopped back on his arm. “Wait—”

He lifted her, swung her—

“No.” A surge of nausea ran up her throat and she barely swallowed it back. Her head spun, her eyes closed, and she gave up the fight. A dark fog filtered into the dizzy alcoholic fizz in her brain and everything went completely black.



* * *



She was as beautiful in disarray as she was in her usual cool perfection.

Vicenzo Mattare stared down at her. Blonde hair mussed around her head, strands catching at her mouth, curls shadowing her eyes. Her arms were outstretched on his bed, opening her jacket to show her untucked white shirt, giving him a glimpse of creamy skin along the waistline. The grey color of her wool suit contrasted with his black sheets, highlighting every line of her body and the abandonment of her pose.

It was a shock to see her this way. He'd imagined, obsessed. Yet it was invariably the calm, composed woman who walked through his brain. Not this abandoned creature. Except it didn't seem to matter either way. His body reacted as it always reacted to her.

With lust.

He swung around to his full-length closet and bit out a short, sharp curse. Sliding off his tie, he concentrated on what he needed to do next. And what he needed to do next had nothing to do with standing over her, panting with lust. He had to put her in her place once and for all. Like a ripe plum, she’d dropped into his hands this evening and he aimed to take advantage of the situation. Going out for an after-work beer had turned into a lucky coincidence.

He’d been mildly astonished to find her seated in his favorite pub.

Completely amazed when he’d quickly understood she was drunk.

Totally astounded when she’d passed out in his arms.

And when the perfect Lise Helton had spilled most of the alcohol she’d consumed onto the curb before he’d stuffed her into his limo and made her drink some water, he’d laughed. Never in his wildest imagination had he dreamed of the Princesse being brought so low. Brought so low as to be almost human.

Laughter had disappeared, though, when she’d cuddled into him and promptly fallen back into her sleepy stupor. The dark, wicked part of his body had leapt to life, as always, against his will.

The impact she had on him, even in a drunken state, was unforgivable.

With that realization stinging his hide, his dark, wild scheme for tonight had slithered into his thoughts.

The scheme would not work if he let his lust master his brain. Wicked and wild he might be; nevertheless the importance lay in remembering this whole inspired setup was designed to show her who was really in control. Out-of-control was out of the question for him. He needed to stuff her back into the compartment of his mind where he'd placed her at the moment he'd met her.