What The Magnate Wants: The Magnate's Mail-Order Bride / The Magnate's Marriage Merger / His Accidental Heir. Joanne RockЧитать онлайн книгу.
memory, and he didn’t want to spoil it. Reaching for her hand full of snowflakes, he warmed her palm with his and peered upward through the white branches at the hint of stars beyond.
“You’re right.” He felt the beauty around him, that much was certain. But it had more to do with the slide of her damp fingers between his. With the tattoo of the pulse at her wrist that he felt on his palm.
“Did you catch one?” She lowered her chin to meet his gaze, her eyes still alight with a glow of happiness.
But she must have seen another expression reflected in his face because her smile faded.
“No.” He reached for her jaw to thumb a snowflake from her creamy cheek, her skin impossibly soft to the touch. Capturing her chin in his hand, he angled her lips for a taste. “But I’m about to.”
Transported by the snow, the city and the man, Sofia hadn’t been expecting the kiss, and maybe it was her total lack of defenses that let her feel the pleasure of it. She delighted in the warm pressure of his mouth in contrast to such a cold day. The soft abrasion of his chin where the new of growth of whiskers rubbed over her tender skin oversensitive from the wind. The gentle way he touched her face to steer her where he wanted, to better delve between her lips.
Answering his demand by stepping closer, craving the warmth of the man, Sofia lost herself.
Quinn’s kiss was the second act of Swan Lake. Or maybe Giselle. Or maybe it was every romantic moment she’d ever danced and never felt deeply until this moment. She squeezed his hand where he’d entwined their fingers, enjoying the way her body fit against him. They weren’t like two dancers with bodies that complemented one another. But like a man possessing a woman, lending her his strength so she didn’t have to draw from her own.
It was a moment of heaven.
When he slowly pulled away from her and she felt the snowflakes fall on her skin again now that he did not completely shelter her, the cool ping of the tiny drops urged her out of her romantic swoon. And no doubt about it, she stood in Central Park swooning on her feet for a man she’d met the day before.
“Quinn, we have a lot of work we should be doing.” She blurted the words with no segue and zero grace. “If we want to get that press release out on time, that is.”
Untangling her fingers from his, she brushed by him to continue walking...east? Her brain scrambled to regain thought. Yes, east. What on earth had gotten into her? Had that kiss been part of the role he seemed determined to play for her? Or had he truly felt inspired to kiss her?
“You’re right.” Quinn didn’t need to walk fast to keep up with her as she practically jogged through the park. His longer strides ate up the ground easily. As he glanced at her, the light reflected devilishly in his eyes. “But I want you to know I liked kissing you, Sofia. Very much. There’s no reason we shouldn’t enjoy ourselves over the next few weeks.”
Sharp, cold air entered her lungs. “Just because we are within easy reach doesn’t mean we should automatically start touching.” She didn’t want to be a convenient outlet for him. “But what’s our story for how we met or when we met?”
“I was introduced to your father at the Met Gala. Were you there with him?”
“Of course not. Do you have any idea what a ticket costs to that event?” At moments like this she could understand how her mother might have come to believe the wealthy were living in a different universe from regular people. The Met Gala was so far beyond her price range it was laughable.
“Actually, no.” He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his overcoat, his profile in shadow as they walked. “I was on the guest list because I made a donation to the museum.”
Right. Which meant he’d paid more than the ticket price that was almost half her annual salary. Like her father, Quinn belonged to a world of wealth and unreality. A world she had purposely avoided.
“Suffice it to say, we didn’t meet there.” She wished she’d worn warmer clothes for their walk. Her knees were feeling the effects of the cold.
“What if we say we met here? In the park? We bonded over rescuing a kid’s toy stuck in a tree last spring.” As a bicyclist churned through the growing snow cover, Quinn slid a protective arm around her, his hand an enticing warmth through her cape before his touch fell away again. “At least we don’t have to make up something fictional. We base it on today, but say it happened when I was walking home one evening and you were taking a break in the park.”
“That could work.” She nodded, locking down the time frame in her mind and trying to envision today’s scene in a different season. “Although I would never give a stranger I met in the park my contact information.”
“Maybe I started taking that route home every day, hoping to see you. Two weeks later, bingo. There you were again. We fell in love over the next few months, and that should be all we need to fill out Jasmine’s press release.” He slowed as they passed Central Park Zoo and headed toward Fifth Avenue. “Are you all right?”
“Of course,” she answered automatically. “Why?”
“You’re limping.”
“No I’m not.” She couldn’t be. Refused to be. She excelled at hiding injuries on stage. Perhaps she just didn’t give much thought to her gait in her private time. “Just hurrying to get home.”
She couldn’t read his expression in the dark.
“I should have insisted on a car. We’re almost there.”
“I’m fine. And if you can point me to the closest subway station? I thought there was one on Fifth?”
“Come inside and warm up first. I’ll drive you home.”
“That’s not necessary. As you pointed out, we have enough for the press release. I’ll send it over to Jasmine when I get home.”
“We haven’t firmed up plans for the Fortier reception.” As they emerged from the park, he crossed Fifth Avenue at East Sixty-First. “Besides, my building is right here. I can send out that release for you, and I’ll call you a car afterward.” He stopped outside the Pierre.
He lived in the hotel?
Of course he did. It was a gracious, old New York address with five-star service. The small part of her that was still her father’s daughter could already envision the kind of food room service provided here.
“Sofia.” Quinn lowered his voice as they stood under the awning in front of the building. “We’re committed to this course now. Let’s be sure we deliver a believable performance.”
“Believable because we show up for all of those public appearances as a couple?” She lowered her voice even more in deference to the doorman who was pulling open a cab door for a newcomer. “Or believable because we’re kissing in our spare time?”
Quinn seemed to weigh the idea carefully. “If you truly think that the kiss was a bad idea, we’ll make sure all future displays of affection are strictly for show and limit them to the public sphere.”
She wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or relieved. Maybe a little of both.
“That might help.” At least then she’d be prepared before he kissed her again. She’d have her guard up. Her body would receive a warning before he stoked it to life with a mere flick of his tongue. “Thank you.”
“Will you come inside, then? We can have dinner sent up while we fill in the blanks for Jasmine and send out the statement.” Quinn had been both patient and reasonable.
Of course, he was only doing any of this for the sake of his business concerns, protecting the McNeill interests from the threats her father had made at the airport last night. She needed to remember that, even