“Come on. Why not give it a try and see how you like it?”
The pink in her face turned bright scarlet and she turned away from him, depositing a toiletry case and some bottles of shampoo and conditioner into a bag near the door. “You really are an ass, you know that?”
Luca barked out a laugh, surprised once again. “I’ve been told so once or twice.”
She snorted. “I’m sure it’s been more than once or twice.”
He laughed again and swung his legs off the bed. She watched him come toward her, her eyes wary but unwavering. She didn’t lack a backbone, that was for sure. Luca found it refreshing. He seemed to be surrounded by people only too willing to say and do whatever it was they thought would please him. She’d give it to him straight every time. He had the irresistible urge to needle her as much as he could just to see how she’d react.
She didn’t budge an inch, even when he stepped so close to her only a breath of air separated them. Instead, she looked up at him, one eyebrow cocked.
“I can’t quite figure out why you continue to feel it necessary to invade my personal space. Do you have a hard time hearing or seeing me from a respectable distance? Maybe Joseph needs to make you an appointment for some glasses. Or a hearing aid.”
He chuckled, the thrill of the chase running through him. He leaned closer until she was forced to take a step back. Right up against the wall. “I like being in your personal space.”
She tried to frown but the expression didn’t quite make it all the way. “Well, I don’t like it.”
“Now, that’s not true.” He placed one hand on the wall next to her head and lifted the other to draw a finger down her cheek. “Why do you blush every time I come near you then?”
“It’s ninety degrees out and you keep insisting on forcing your body heat on me. It’s not desire; it’s heat stroke,” she said, raising her pert little chin in the air.
His finger trailed down the column of her neck, skimming over the pulse beating furiously beneath her skin. He leaned in even closer, his lips hovering near her ear. “Why is your blood racing?”
“Because you’re making me angry,” she retorted, with a voice not quite as steady as it had been.
“Hmm.” His fingers stroked along her collarbone and she shivered. What he wouldn’t love to do to this woman. “I think you’re lying…to me and yourself.”
“I don’t care what you think.”
“That’s not true, either.”
She glared at him. “You don’t know me, Mr. Vasilakis. So you’re really not qualified to make that assumption, are you?”
He gazed into her eyes and could almost see her slapping her defenses in place. There was a sensual woman under the surface of all that control, begging to be released. He couldn’t wait to see the passion she was capable of when she truly gave in to her own desires.
He closed his eyes briefly, trying to get a grip on himself. What the hell was he thinking? Yes, he wanted her, but she wasn’t the type he could have fun with and then walk away from. He didn’t know what it was about her, but he had a feeling she’d get under his skin, and that was the last thing he wanted. Too risky, too much to lose.
He glanced down, his eyes raking over her from her stylishly clad feet in their shiny new sandals, to her shapely legs, the hem of her white cotton sundress just skimming her knees, the dress merely hinting at the delicious body that hid beneath it. But most of all it was the intelligence and compassion radiating from those intense eyes that stared into his own, the strength and beauty that shone from her that she couldn’t hide even if she wanted to. She was different, this woman, from any he’d known before. She was dangerous.
And still he wanted her.
He stepped away. He’d have to be content with the few tastes he got playing it up for the cameras. Anything else might lead down a road he had no desire to travel.
She watched him, her brow creased in confusion. He almost laughed. She wasn’t the only one confused.
“Do you have all you need?” he asked.
She frowned, but nodded.
“Good, let’s go. I’m sure Joe is anxiously waiting for us back home.”
She nodded again and followed him to the door. Her bags were still sitting there but he gathered them up with a roll of his eyes.
“Can you get the door?” he asked, laying on the sugar-sweet sarcasm as thickly as possible.
“Of course.” She grinned at him and opened the door.
The shouting began the second the door swung open. Constance gasped and jumped back, slamming the door shut again.
Luca sighed. He’d hoped to be able to ease her into the whole three-ring circus. Or at least run her through orientation. How to be a Stalked Celebrity 101. Oh well. A crash course would have to do.