‘Do you normally kiss like that?’ he found himself asking.
Her forehead puckered. ‘Was I totally rubbish at it?’
‘Hell, no. I’m just saying…’ What was he saying? That she knocked him off his feet with a kiss? Yeah, right, like he was going to tell her that. Anyone that.
She, it seemed, had no such scruples. ‘You’re an amazing kisser. No wonder you’ve got the reputation you have.’
Why did his reputation feel like something to be ashamed of when he was with her? He couldn’t imagine her leaping from one bed to the other, barely taking enough time to register a sexual partner’s name before moving on to the next.
Not that he wasn’t happy with his life. His life was fun. He liked being on the move. Putting down roots was for trees. Not for him.
But something about the way she was looking at him made a space creak open inside his chest. A tiny fissure along a fault line, barely enough to send a beam of light through, but he felt a spill of warmth flow from it and brush like a puff of a hot breath against his chilled heart.
‘What was wrong with the way I was kissing you?’ she suddenly asked.
‘Nothing. It was great. You were great. Fabulous, in fact.’ He stopped gushing long enough to draw a breath to rebalance. ‘You might want to hold back on the enthusiasm a bit. A less principled guy might take advantage of it.’ Jeez, he was starting to sound like a parent again.
‘But what if I wanted you to take advantage of it?’
Luiz blinked. ‘No, you don’t… Do you?’
Her face was so youthfully open and fresh it made something deep inside his chest pinch. ‘I didn’t before but I’ve changed my mind. I like you. I’d like to spend some more time with—’
‘No. No. No. A thousand times no.’ He practically frogmarched her to the door. ‘You, young lady, need to go and join your friends. Go do a tour of the Grand Canyon or go shopping or book to see a show or something.’ He scooped up her purse and thrust it in her hands before opening the door. ‘Out.’
A blinding flash hit him in the eyes as a round of paparazzi cameras went off.
‘Luiz, tell us about your mystery date,’ a journalist said. ‘Everyone’s talking about her. Who is she?’
‘Are you going to see her again?’
‘What’s your name, sweetheart?’
Luiz took Daisy’s arm and pulled her back behind him. ‘Don’t tell them.’
‘Ooh!’ a female journalist crowed. ‘It must be serious. He’s never done that before.’
‘Her name’s Daisy,’ someone offered from the back of the assembled press. ‘I spoke to one of her friends earlier. She’s a kindergarten teacher from a posh school in London.’
‘Can we expect a double wedding with your brother, eh, Luiz?’ one of the old regulars asked.
Luiz laughed it off. ‘We’re just friends.’
‘How about we hear what Miss Wyndham has to say?’
Luiz’s fingers clamped down on Daisy’s wrist. ‘She has no comment to make. Now, if you’ll excuse us—’