His Ultimate Prize(57)

'Are you sure you want to know? You may not approve.'

His hand tightened on her arm, his eyes darkening into storm clouds that  threatened thunder and lightning. 'Then think carefully before you  speak.'

She sighed. 'Fine. You've busted me. I was going to beg your chef to  make me that T-bone steak and salad he made for us yesterday, followed  by chocolate caramel delight for dessert-I'll think about the calories  later. Afterwards I intend to have a sweltering foursome with Joel,  LuAnn and Logan.'

The hand that had started to relax suddenly tightened, harder than before.

'Excuse me?' Marco bit out, his voice a thin blade of ice slicing across her skin.

Reaching into the handbag slung over her shoulder, she pulled out the boxed set of her favourite TV vampire show.

He released her and reached for it. After scrutinising it, he threw it down onto the sofa along with the pictures.

'Take a piece of advice for free, pequeña. It's a mistake to keep  goading me. The consequences will be greater than you ever bargained  for.' His voice was soft. Deadly soft.

Sasha felt a shiver go through her. Most people mistakenly assumed  partaking in one of the most dangerous sports in the world meant X1  Premier Racing drivers were fearless. Sasha wasn't fearless. She had a  healthy amount of fear and respect for her profession. She knew when to  accelerate, when to pull back the throttle, when to pull over and  abandon her car.

Right now the look on Marco's face warned her she was skidding close to  danger. She heeded the warning. Lashing out because of the maelstrom of  emotions roiling inside her would most likely result in far worse  consequences than she'd endured with Derek.

'Understood. Let me go.'

Surprise at her easy capitulation lit his eyes. Abruptly he released her.

'I need a shower. I guess you'll be gone when I come out. Enjoy your evening.'

Shamelessly, she fled.

* * *

Marco watched her go, frustration and bewilderment fighting a messy battle inside him.

He prided himself on knowing and understanding women. After Angelique,  his determination never to be caught out again had decreed it. Women  liked to think they were complicated creatures, but when it came down to  it their needs were basic, no matter how much they tried to hide it.  Hell, some-like Angelique-even spelled it out.

'I want fame, Marco. I want excitement! I can't be with a man who's a has-been.'

The memory slid in, reminding him why he now ensured the women he  associated with knew there was no rosy future in store for them and had  no surprises waiting to trap him.

A reality devoid of surprises suited him just fine.

His eyes followed Sasha's tall, slim figure down the hallway.

She surprised him, he admitted reluctantly. She also infuriated him. She  made his blood boil in a way that was so basic, so...sexual-even  without the benefit of those pictures...

Dios! With a growl, he whirled towards the window. When he'd gone to her  room to set things straight this morning the last thing he'd expected  was for her to reassure him that it had been no big deal.

Despite being totally into the kiss-as much as he'd been-she'd walked  away from him last night. A situation he'd never encountered before.

Was it because she didn't really want him? Or was she merely waiting for  his brother to wake up so she could resume where they'd left off?

Acid burned through his stomach at the thought. But even the corrosive  effect couldn't wash away the underlying sexual need that seared him.

He'd rushed through his meeting with every intention of calling one of  the many willing female acquaintances on his BlackBerry. But once he'd  returned, his need to go out again had waned. He withdrew from examining  why too closely.

He turned back from the window and his eyes fell on the pictures on the sofa. To the one of her draped all over his car...

Blindly he stumbled towards his jacket and dug around for his phone. Two  minutes later reservations were made. By the time his Rolls collected  him from the foyer, Sasha Fleming had been consigned to the furthest  corner of his mind.

* * *

Marco stood outside the door ninety minutes later, caught himself  listening for sounds from inside, and grimaced in disbelief. He'd spent  the last hour or so wining and dining a woman whose name he couldn't now  remember.

He'd stared at his date's in-your-face scarlet lips and thought of  another set of lips. Plump, freshly licked lips, captured in perfect  celluloid. Lips that had responded to his kiss in a way that had sent  the most potent pulse of excitement through him.

Forbidden lips.

In the end he'd thrown down his napkin and extracted several large  notes. 'You'll have to forgive me. I'm terrible company tonight. I  shouldn't have disturbed your evening.'

The practised pout had reappeared. 'You know I'll forgive you anything, Marco.'

Candy? Candice? had leaned forward in another carefully calculated pose, designed to showcase her body to its best advantage.

'Listen, I have an idea. I know how much you like your coffee. When I  was filming in Brazil last month I absolutely fell in love with the  coffee and brought some back with me. Why don't we skip dessert and go  back to my place and I'll give you a taste?'

Barely containing rising distaste, he'd shaken his head. 'Sorry, I'll take a rain check.'

He'd led her out amid soft protests and further throaty promises of the  delights of her cafetière. But coffee, or sex with Candy/Candice had  been the last thing on his mind.

His sudden hunger for chocolate caramel had become overpowering.

'Take my car. I'll walk,' he'd said.

And now here he stood, skulking outside his own apartment like a hormonal teenager on his first date.

He entered and approached the living room.

She was curled up on the sofa, a bowl of popcorn in her lap. Her head  snapped towards him. As if she'd been listening out for him too. The  thought pleased him more than it should have.

The striking blue of her eyes paralysed him.

'You're still awake.' Excelente, Marco. First prize for stating the obvious.

She blinked. 'It's only nine-fifteen.' Her eyes followed him as he  shrugged off his jacket and dropped it on the sofa. When her gaze  lingered on his chest he felt the blood surge stronger than before.

He watched her fingers dance through the bowl of popcorn, the movement  curiously erotic. His heart hammered harder. 'You didn't have the  chocolate caramel after all?'

'Charlie's disapproving face haunted me. Popcorn is healthier.' She  looked away. 'So, how was your date?' she asked, her voice husky.

He wrenched his gaze from her fingers. 'You really want to know?'

Her sensual lips firmed and she shook her head.

The need to gauge her true feelings drew him closer. 'Jealous?'

She inhaled sharply. 'I thought we weren't doing this?'

His eyes fell to her lips. 'Maybe I've changed my mind.'

'Well, change it back. Nothing has changed since this morning. I can't  handle your...baggage. And I don't want a relationship. Of any sort.'

Marco opened his mouth to tell her he didn't want anything from her  either. But he knew he was lying. His very presence in this room belied  that.

Forbidden or not, he wanted her with a compulsive need that unnerved and  baffled him. But the fact that he wanted her didn't mean he would have  her. He was known for his legendary control. He sat down next to her,  caught her scent, and simply willed himself not to react.

Forcing his body to relax, he nodded towards the television. 'You have a thing for vampires?'

'Doesn't everyone?' she replied breathlessly.                       
       
           



       

He wanted to look at her. But he denied himself the urge and kept his gaze fixed ahead. 'What's the story about?'

She hesitated, fidgeted and sat forward. From the corner of his eye he saw her lick her lips. Fiery heat sang through his veins.

'Oh, you know-it's the usual run-of-the-mill storyline. Two brothers in love with the same girl.'

Something tightened in his chest and his stomach muscles clenched. 'I see.'

'You don't have to watch it.' She shifted backwards, out of his periphery.

'Why not? I'm intrigued.' The two male protagonists faced off on the screen, fangs bared. 'What are they doing now?'

Again she hesitated. 'They're about to fight to the death for her.'

His muscles pulled tighter. Blood surged through his veins and he forcibly relaxed the clenched fist on his thigh.

'Which one are you rooting for?' he asked, the skin on his nape curiously tight as he waited for her answer.

It occurred to him how absurd the conversation was. How absurd it was to  be so wound up by a TV show. But every second he waited for her answer  felt like an eternity.

'Neither.'

Illogically, his insides hollowed. 'You don't care if either one of them dies?' The words grated his throat.

'That's not what I said. I said neither because I know they won't kill  each other. They might tear chunks out of each other, but ultimately  they love each other too much to let a woman come between them. No  matter how difficult, or how heart-wrenching it is to watch, I know  they'll work it out. That's why I love the show. Popcorn?'

The bowl appeared in front of him.

He declined and nodded at the screen as a female character walked on. 'Is she the one?'