Modern Romance July 2019 Books 1-4. Sharon KendrickЧитать онлайн книгу.
not going to flatter myself I’m the only one, particularly after your parting words to me,’ he whispered against her neck. ‘Or is your air of gauche innocence just a perk you provide to all your clients?’
It took a few moments for his meaning to register and when it did, the implication was so insulting that it completely took her breath away. ‘A perk?’
He shrugged. ‘Why not? It happens.’
Emily stared at him incredulously before pushing his hand away and slithering out from beneath him to scramble to her feet. Her hands were shaking with rage as she tugged the flapping halves of her dress together and began to rebutton it, glaring at him where he lay, like some dark and indolent panther. ‘You really think I would behave like that with just...anyone? That I would do this kind of thing with clients?’
Unperturbed by her accusation, he got up, raking his fingers back through the tumble of his hair, before tugging down his shirt and tucking it into his jeans. ‘I don’t know,’ he said coldly. ‘Discrimination was never your strong point, Emily. When you left you told me you were going to enjoy other men and I’m assuming you did.’
Because it had been the only way she could ensure he would let her go. The only way she could guarantee he wouldn’t test her resolve.
But what was the point of raking all that up now and revisiting a past which was surely best left forgotten? Even if he was looking at her as if she were nothing but a cheap tramp who put out for anyone who happened to turn her on. She wasn’t here to parade her virtue or seek his good opinion of her. And wouldn’t it make it easier to deal with the attraction which still burned between them if on one level he continued to despise her? She smoothed her dress down over her hips, and only when she was confident that her image was restored did she lift her gaze to his.
‘I’m not quite sure how that happened,’ she said, in a voice which sounded unnaturally calm.
‘You want me to describe for you how hormones work?’ he drawled.
Ignoring his sarcasm, Emily made her voice sound bright, like the one she’d used all those times when she’d been trying to rouse her mother from the deepest of sleeps. It was a note of determination, but it was also one of survival. Even if it didn’t always work—you still had to give it a try. ‘And we’re going to forget that it ever did happen. Do you understand that, Alejandro?’
He gave a low laugh. ‘Oh, I understand more than you think, querida, but I’m afraid it’s not that easy. Because you want me, Emily. You might wish you didn’t, but you do. You want me so badly I can almost taste it and, beneath that vampy borrowed dress, I’m willing to bet my entire fortune that your panties are wet.’ His eyes glittered. ‘The truth is that I’m excited about having sex with you and am counting down the hours until you’re honest enough to admit you feel exactly the same way.’
THE COCKTAIL PARTY was a crush—a glitzy affair on board an enormous yacht moored in Melbourne’s exclusive harbour, filled with socialites and celebrities who had gathered in the city for the big race. The luxury craft bobbed against a backdrop of glittering skyscrapers, an internationally famous rap artist was playing at the far end of the deck and trays of drinks were being circulated by young and very beautiful serving staff who looked like off-duty actors. Very quickly Alejandro was surrounded by a cluster of what looked like adoring fans, leaving Emily standing at the shadowed edge of the exalted golden circle which grew around him.
In truth she’d wanted to skip this party, especially after that disturbing interlude on the sofa. The fact that they’d been so intimate and the fact that she had very nearly succumbed to having sex with him had left her needing to put some very necessary space between her and Alejandro. She didn’t think she could bear to keep encountering his mocking green gaze, which was enough to start her heart racing as she remembered his fingers sliding so tantalisingly over her breasts and her thighs.
But it had been about more than the physical. It had been the other stuff, which was way more disturbing. She’d felt connected to him on another level. As if he was the only one who could tap that cold, dark place deep inside her and fill her with warmth and life. Was that being fanciful? Of course it was. She mustn’t start inventing fairy tales about him when the reality was apparent, if only she had the courage to face up to it. She was just a frustrated and lonely woman who hadn’t been touched like that since she was barely eighteen years old and, in the intervening time, her body must have been simmering away with frustration. It was just a bitter irony that the only man she’d ever cared for was also the man she’d deliberately wounded because she’d been too young and confused to see any other way out.
She had to let it go. She had to or she wouldn’t be able to complete the job tasked to her and her professional pride and reputation would be dented. She wanted Alej to see her as someone other than a sexual pushover. Which was why she’d coolly suggested he attend the cocktail party on his own while she tried to claw back some of the hours lost to jet lag. But he had refused point-blank.
‘Me stroking your breasts before you deciding you don’t want to play along any more doesn’t qualify you for dispensation from the job you’re being paid to do,’ he had drawled. ‘You’re the official face of my sober new image, Emily, and you’re coming to the party with me. You can catch up on your sleep tomorrow, before the race.’
She hated the way he talked about sex so... casually...as if it was nothing more than an enjoyable bodily function which could just be enjoyed without much thought or deliberation. Maybe that was how men like him thought of it. When women flung themselves so eagerly at Alej Sabato—herself included—why wouldn’t he think of them as anything but sexual fodder? But she had found herself unable to argue with his logic. You couldn’t really cite being overly attracted to your boss as a reason for not doing your job properly, could you?
Nonetheless, it had been with a heavy heart that she’d put a few final tweaks to her dishevelled appearance and joined him in the back of the chauffeur-driven car which had brought them down to the harbour. And now she was cast in her favourite role of observer, watching the comings and goings of the glittering guests as she stood in a shadowed corner.
She noticed that, although the party was attended by lots of the hunky drivers who were competing in the race the following day, it was the charismatic Alejandro who captured all the attention. Everyone wanted to talk to him, she realised. She spotted a famous Hollywood actress making her way across the deck to push her way through the small crowd gathered in front of him, her famous fall of blonde hair blowing softly in the early evening breeze. Emily screwed up her nose. Kate Palmer, yes, that was her name—a woman who’d won two BAFTA awards, amongst others. And wasn’t that a top-selling novelist surreptitiously sneaking a selfie with him, despite Emily’s stern instructions that such casual interactions must stop if he wanted to be taken seriously?
She told herself it was professional pique which was making her so cross that he was ignoring her advice but the truth was a little more sinister. Because a dark rush of jealousy was clenching at her heart, making her want to rush over to the glittering group and to grab Alej possessively by the arm and to announce that he’d been making love to her earlier.
‘Must be frustrating.’
A voice made Emily break her gaze from the oddly uncomfortable sight of Alejandro saying something which made the award-winning actress dissolve into instant laughter. Reluctantly she turned her head to study the tanned features of the tall man who had positioned himself beside her, his fair hair and open face making him seem the Argentinian’s very antithesis.
‘What must?’ she asked.
The man shrugged. ‘Dating someone like that, who attracts women like moths to the flame. He’s famous for it. Or should I say infamous? I saw you come in with him,’ he said, by way of an explanation Emily hadn’t asked for.
‘I’m