Hot Summer Flings: A Spanish Awakening / The Italian Next Door... / Interview with the Daredevil. Nicola MarshЧитать онлайн книгу.
Inside the laughter was noticeably absent as she said, ‘And you’re trying to tell me you were just overcome with uncontrollable lust when you saw me? ‘
Not for the first time she wondered what it would be like to be one of those women who did just that to men. Did that make her very shallow?
‘I suppose you know that it was totally pathetic. I should have called Security!’ Instead I kissed you back, which was a really great idea.
‘People kiss in airports.’
‘Not like that!’
‘You did not exactly beat me off with a stick.’ Emilio struggled to concentrate on the road ahead as the memory of her soft curves moulding themselves to his body rose up to torment him.
‘Quite the opposite. Now, why was that, I wonder? ‘
‘I felt sorry for you.’ Pleased with the way the explanation had tripped off her tongue, she added, ‘You know, you really should get a life for real. Rosanna clearly has.’
Actually it wasn’t at all clear. Megan could see that Emilio would be a hard act for any man to follow, even the most self-confident of men.
‘Yes, she has. I believe we will be getting an invite to her wedding any day now.’
‘She’s getting married!’ This information went a long way to explain Emilio’s performance, especially if he was still in love with his ex-wife.
Megan squashed the flash of sympathy she felt for him. It might explain why, but it did not begin to excuse the way he had used her.
‘It is in the cards, though not certain as yet. You sound surprised?’
‘I am.’
Not as surprised as she had been when she had learnt that the couple who had seemed a perfect match on every level were breaking up. Up until the moment that the divorce had been announced Megan had anticipated a dramatic reconciliation, but the Rios divorce, like the break-up, had been low-key and bizarrely amicable based on what they called a mutual decision.
But had that mutual, civilized, still-good-friends routine been a way to save face? The Rios family name came not only with a clearly superb gene pool, she thought, sweeping a covert glance through her lashes at Emilio’s clear-cut patrician profile, but also some far less attractive things.
Things like family tradition and pride. How would divorce have gone down? In many ways the Rios family had not moved on very far from the Dark Ages, and they didn’t do divorce. When it came to pride the Rios family had a lot more than their fair share.
For the first time she found herself wondering just how mutual the divorce had really been. Had it in reality been forced on him?
She flashed a speculative look at Emilio’s profile, wondering if he too had been anticipating a passionate reconciliation?
‘I thought marriage to you would have put her off the institution for life! It’s almost as much of a mystery as why she married you in the first place.’
‘Is it?’ he said, looking at her mouth.
The insolent scrutiny made Megan shift uneasily in her seat. ‘She seems quite sane.’
He continued to stare at her mouth until, unable to bear it a second longer, Megan yelled, ‘Will you keep your eyes on the road?’ They were stopped at a set of lights. ‘And nobody gets married to someone because they are a good kisser, if that’s what you’re implying.’
‘I am relieved you noticed. Actually, my talents extend beyond kissing.’
Megan dragged a hand jerkily down the front of her blouse, growing more agitated by the second. ‘I really don’t want to know!’ she choked, dropping the pretence of an amused façade.
Her directive stemmed the flow of details, but not the flow of visual examples of his talent slipping through her head.
‘I should have waited for a taxi,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘God alone knows why I got in a car with you.’
‘Possibly because you were hoping I’d kiss you again?’
Her slender shoulder lifted in a shrug and she sneered, ‘No audience here, so I feel safe.’
He lifted one shoulder, but admitted modestly, ‘I am not the exhibitionist you appear to think. I actually do some of my best work in private.’
His deep, throaty drawl sent Megan’s imagination into free fall. She gasped as shameful heat flooded the sensitive juncture between her legs. ‘Not with me!’ she retorted as she pressed a button to open the window, pressing it again with a certain amount of desperation when it did not immediately respond.
‘We do have air conditioning, you know.’
Megan stuck her head out of the window and breathed deeply. ‘It’s not working.’ She found it extremely doubtful that a cold shower would have worked for her at that moment.
She was bewildered and alarmed by the ease with which he could arouse her physically. It was bizarre, but the excitement in her veins seemed to grow in direct proportion to the antagonism she felt towards him.
Emilio shifted gears and the powerful monster he drove shot forward, straining at the leash as the traffic began to move once more. He felt some sympathy for the machine’s frustration; his libido was straining at the leash.
‘You know what they say, querida—never say never.’ His sideways glance touched her heaving bosom. ‘You gave every appearance of enjoying yourself when you kissed me.’ Her response had delighted him.
‘That was not a kiss.’
‘It was not? ‘
Megan chewed fretfully at her full lower lip and stared stubbornly out of the window. ‘It was … a reflex,’ she retorted in a driven voice.
‘Indeed. I can only say that you have the best … reflexes of any woman I have ever come across.’
The window beckoned again.
When she pulled her head back in she pushed the mesh of hair from her eyes and observed with a spite that was totally uncharacteristic for her, ‘I should have told Rosanna that, far from being an item—like anyone is going to believe that,’ she inserted with a scornful sniff. ‘I can’t stand the sight of you!’
‘Is it such a good idea to allow this to become personal? ‘
Megan stared at his patrician profile in disbelief. Was the man for real? ‘It already is personal. It got personal the moment you k … k … you kissed me! ‘
‘I too have excellent reflexes.’
Lips compressed, she directed her gaze on her hands clenched primly in her lap, thinking, Do not go there, Megan. ‘I just bet you do,’ she snarled, watching her knuckles blench white.
She flashed him a look of exasperation. ‘Is it so impossible for you to believe that I can’t stand the sight of you?’
‘I believe that your reaction to me is not mild, and neither, for the record, is mine to you.’ Before she could analyse the message within his cryptic utterance he continued,
‘But I was referring to your comment … something along the lines of—“like anyone would believe that.” Why would anyone not believe that we are lovers?’
Megan slung him an irritated look. ‘I have a brain and I like to be exclusive. Also I look nothing like a Barbie doll.’
‘Ouch! So much for sisterly solidarity! You really should not judge by appearances, Megan.’
‘You’re right, I’m the superficial one.’
His grin flashed and her own smile faded. It would be an exaggeration to call the spiky atmosphere warm, but she was conscious that a worrying element of intimacy had developed.