“Do not finish that sentence.”
He chuckled. “You’re no fun.”
That strangled sounding, hastily cut off laughter escaped from her again. “That’s right. I’m not. So why don’t you save me the trouble and tell me everything now?”
“I could, but then I’m not in the habit of giving away valuable information for nothing.”
“I’d hardly call this information valuable.”
He shrugged. “You’re the one who wanted to know.”
Her eyes narrowed as she tried to stare him down. She blinked first and a childish thrill of victory ran through him.
“Okay, what are your terms?” she finally asked.
Oh, he knew what he’d like to ask for. A modified version of strip Truth or Dare would be fun, but she’d never go for that. Maybe something similar but not quite as “daring” would fly?
“For every episode of inappropriate intrusiveness I tell you, you have to drop the blankets a few inches.”
“What?” She gasped, but she exaggerated it. They both knew she wasn’t all that surprised.
“I want to see what you’re wearing, you want to hear my stories. Fair’s fair.”
One eyebrow rose. “Your obsession with my pajamas really isn’t healthy.”
“I’m aware of this. I still want to know.”
She gave him a wry smile and shrugged. “If that’s what you really want, deal.”
“Oh, I didn’t say that was what I really wanted, but I knew you’d say no to that, so I asked for what I thought I could get.”
“And what do you really want?” she asked, leaning in just a hair.
His heart rate jumped a notch and all things south of the border perked up. He willed himself back under control. She was playing with him and every part of him seemed to understand that but his dick.
“Do you really want me to answer that?” he asked, his voice gone deep and husky.
Her breathing sped up and she shook her head. “I’m sure I can guess.”
“I’m sure you can, too, but since you refuse to go there, I guess we’re stuck with the…safer arrangement. Agreed?”
She only hesitated a moment before nodding. “Agreed. So, tell me a story, and it better be good.”
He laid back and put his hands behind his head. “Hmm, let’s see. Okay, here’s one. I once had a female reporter ask me how many times I could make a woman orgasm in one night.”
“What? No way. What was the interview for? Playgirl?”
He snorted. “No. I would have expected questions like that in that case. I was doing a PR piece for the firm. My father had just purchased a large tract of land that had some significant historical finds on it.”
Constance frowned. “What possible excuse could she have for asking you a question like that then?”
“I think she was asking for personal reasons.”
That eyebrow of hers rose again. “I…I’m not even going to touch that. Okay, one point for you. Definitely an insanely inappropriate question.”
“Good. Now, drop them.”
Her eyes narrowed at him but the blankets dropped a few inches, baring her shoulders to the moonlight. Nothing covered them but a pair of thin, white camisole straps against her pale skin. He bit his lip, staring at the creamy expanse of her shoulders, at her collarbone, and the sexy little hollow at the base of her throat.
The longer he stared, the more she glared. “They’re just shoulders. Everyone has them. They really aren’t that interesting.”
“So you say.” He trailed a finger across the gentle slope of the one nearest him and she trembled under his touch, but she didn’t move away. “You have exquisite shoulders, the kind that should be painted. Sculpted. Immortalized for all time. Anyone who tells you they aren’t worth staring at is lying. Or blind.”
Her mouth dropped open a little but he wasn’t going to give her the time to refute him. “I must see more. So another invasive moment. Hmm. Okay, I’ve got one. Actually, the question wasn’t asked of me but asked of a friend of mine about me. Does that count?”
Her face puckered in that disapproving nanny way she had about her, but she nodded. “I’ll allow it.”
“A reporter once asked a girlfriend of mine how I measured up compared to other men she’d been with.”
“No,” she said with a little giggle.
“Yes. Thankfully, I surpassed the others with flying colors, so to speak. So, he offered her a hundred thousand dollars if she’d provide photographic evidence.”
“Oh my God. She refused, of course.”
Luca shook his head. “Nope. Sold me out less than twenty-four hours later. There I was thinking she wanted to spice things up a little and the next thing I know my penis is front-page news. Well, not front page…wouldn’t want to scare the kiddies.” He winked and laughed it off despite the fact that had been one of the most humiliating episodes of his life, not that he didn’t think his favorite body part was spectacular, because it was, of course. But it had certainly taught him a valuable lesson in whom to trust.