“Come to dinner with me.”
Mina sucked in a breath. Okay, she thought, her brain changing gears, not what I expected.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” she managed, wincing at the breathy quality of her voice.
“Oh, I think it would be a good idea,” Marco said, leaning forward a fraction and sending her pulse skyrocketing, “a very good idea.” His eyes glittered with heat. “You can’t tell me that you don’t want to—I can see it in your eyes, hear it in your breath. I bet that if I were to lift your skirt I’d find you soaked and ready for me.”
Mina drew in another shaky breath, trying vainly to calm herself. One of his hands reached out, the long fingers that had given her such pleasure trailing down her side, lightly grazing her breast and then resting on her hip. It stopped there, grasping at the lightweight material of her skirt. He was right: wetness pooled between her legs as she remembered what those hands were capable of, and her nipples were tight in invitation, begging to be tugged and sucked. She shifted away from him, desperate to put distance, even an inch, between them.
“This isn’t the place for this,” she tried. “Dr. Peabody…”
“Fuck Dr. Peabody,” Marco snarled, sliding his hand possessively over her ass and pulling her tightly against him. “I’m not above a little exhibitionism, and unless you want your dear Dr. Peabody to see you taking a little more than dictation…” he ground his hips against her, his erection hot and heavy against her stomach, “you’ll agree to come to dinner with me.”
Mina whimpered at his words, a flood of moisture soaking her panties. Her eyes fluttered closed and she breathed in the scent of him, every inch of her body aching for him to touch her.
Marco was not going to take no for an answer, so Mina decided to accept the temporary defeat. “Okay,” she whispered, licking her dry lips, “I’ll come.”
Marco growled next to her ear, his breath sending goose bumps down her arms. “I know you will.” His tongue darted out and traced the shell of her ear, causing her knees to buckle, but as soon as he made contact he withdrew. “I’ll pick you up at eight.” An instant later he was back across the office, nonchalantly examining the books on the shelves beside the door as Ivy and Dr. Peabody reappeared, babbling about papers and shipments and honorariums. Mina turned to face her desk, leaning heavily against it as she struggled to gather the tattered remains of her control.
“Thank you for all your kind attentions,” Marco said, appearing as unruffled as ever. “Miss Hemingway has graciously agreed to accompany me to dinner tonight, so I will take these documents with me and we will look over them this evening.” He pushed himself away from the wall, reaching out to shake Dr. Peabody’s hand.
“Well then,” the older man said with enthusiasm, “I’ll leave you in her care. I’m certain she will be able to address anything that comes up.” He stepped over and patted Mina on the shoulder. “Won’t you my dear?”
Mina smiled wanly and nodded.
“Absolutely,” she agreed, listening half-heartedly as Marco made his goodbyes. His eyes landed on her and she could see the determination there behind a façade of civility.
What have I gotten myself into?
Chapter Two
“So, you’re telling me that the whole thing is nothing but a power play? Some big scam to get even with you for running out on him?”
Mina flopped into an armchair covered in Finnish flowers.
“I don’t know, Ivy,” she sighed, head flopping back. “What I do know is that it’s an unlikely coincidence. It’s the only thing that makes sense. I mean, yeah, sure, he has a collection of Etruscan art and the Oppen is as good a place as any to exhibit it, but really? Three days after a torrid romp in the sheets he appears in my office making ridiculous offers to make me Head Curator? Me? You know that isn’t how it works—Hell, I’ll be lucky if Santiago doesn’t penny my door shut when he hears that his position as Head Curator has been given over to a lowly grant writer.”
Ivy pushed her chair back from the table, eyes intent.
“None of this makes sense—including the torrid romp, if you don’t mind my saying—if he’s trying to make you look bad,” she said. “This is a man who runs a multi-billion dollar corporation. Coming in to the office singing your praises, agreeing to provide an exclusive collection to the museum as long as you are the one running the show… there’s just not enough downside to this scenario.” Mina could hear the wheels grinding away in Ivy’s head and smiled. She never could leave a puzzle alone. “All he’s managed to do, other than get a dinner date with you, is make you look really good. Dr. Peabody is so happy he’d have your name tattooed on his ass if you told him it would keep Mr. Genovese happy.”