She nodded. “From a small town, remember. And we keep the babies in the nursery every Sunday.” Her fingers slip between the placket of buttons, stroking the skin underneath. Her touch light, but potent.
“Breaking up with Gabriel was the best decision I’ve ever made. We’re much better at being friends, always have been,” she added.
“Then why were you together at all?”
Her body tensed. “He was there for me when I needed someone the most.”
“I’m glad.” He meant it.
“Have you ever been in love?” she asked, her voice soft.
“When I was younger, I was in love with a lot of women—or at least I thought so. Most likely I was thinking with my manly parts,” he said with a grin. “Like most men.”
“Was there one in particular that meant more than the others?”
There had been one, but how obsessive would he sound revealing this to her? How pathetic would it sound to say that he still dreamed about a redheaded woman with brown eyes? A woman he’d met at a masked ball and had known for only a few hours. Falling back on what was easiest, he said, “Even if I had been sober at the time, it’s been so long that I can’t remember their names. They all start to blur together into colors: blonde, redhead, brunette, light skin, dark skin.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he wanted to snatch them back and bury them in a remote location that was thousands of miles away from Zoe’s ears.
“You need to leave.”
He sat up when she did, trying to catch her eye. “I sounded like a wanker just then, trying to make you jealous.” Oh that made it all better. Bloody idiot.
“Don’t worry. I’m not jealous of any woman that’s been with you. I wish them all the best: past, present, and future.” She rose from the bed, then turned to face him. “This isn’t going to work.”
The hell it wasn’t. He pushed off of the bed and walked to her, catching her chin before she turned away. “Sweetheart, I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings. I was just talking. Letting you get to know the real me.”
“Don’t do me any favors. You know the way out.” She practically ran to the bathroom, the door slamming shut behind her.
He knocked on the door. “Come out, Zoe. Don’t end our tenth date like this.”
“It’s not a date and you can’t count.”
“Baby, we’ve spent almost twenty hours together in the past two days. Let’s just say that a regular date is about two hours—”
“You must do a lot of speed screwing if you have dinner first, and don’t call me baby. I’m happy hiding in corners and away from men like you.”
Christian wanted to punch the wall in frustration, but kept his cool. “Anyway, by my calculations that makes ten dates or over two months. It’s well known that in the third month of courtship—”Had he seriously just used the word courtship in a sentence?“—a couple should take a trip to Paris for dinner at an outdoor cafe that does not serve coffee. Then a walk along the Champs Elysees and a kiss on the observation deck of the Eiffel Tower at midnight. Unless you choose to stab me again. Or throw me over the edge. Allow me to wear a bungee cord around my ankle, and I’ll willingly offer myself as sacrifice.”
He heard a loud sniff.
“Stop trying to make me laugh.”
“I’m not leaving until you come out here and kiss me good night.”
“You’ll be waiting a long time then.”
“No problem for me. I’ve got a king sized bed to keep me warm and comfy.”
The door cracked open. She stuck her head out, her face splotchy from tears. “You win.”
The sight tugged at his heart. He pulled her to him, careful to do so by her elbows. Which, by some miracle, hadn’t been burned. “It’s not a contest.” He briefly closed his eyes as her full breasts pressed against him, only her loose shirt separating them. “But if it were, you would win. Hands down.”
“I don’t know what to think or do about you,” she said.
“Kiss me good night. That doesn’t require much thinking on your part.”
Their lips met, in the briefest, yet sweetest kiss of his life.
She blinked up at him, black lashes wet and spiky. “I think I want to see you again.”
Chapter Ten
Zoe stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep past eight a.m. despite the late night she’d had with Christian.
She had been surprised to find that she really enjoyed being with him. He teased her, talked to her and didn’t mind her klutziness. She had come so close to telling him the truth, especially after their conversation about the lies made up about him and his co-star.
But in the end she’d chickened out and had become so furious that he couldn’t remember something so simple as a woman’s name.
Then came his apology, his kiss. Her poor heart and traitorous body had all kinds of trouble connecting the dots to fully understand what had lay before her: heartless playboy or misunderstood man. She really wanted him to be misunderstood, or to have at least grown up from the last time she’d met him.
There was a knock on her hotel room door.
Rising from the bed, she grabbed her robe, tightened the sash and opened the door. Nothing prepared her for what lay on the other side. Vases of sunflowers loaded on carts came pouring into her room. Soon the blossoms overfilled her room.
At the end of the flower parade came the best surprise of all, Christian wearing low slung jeans, a graphic tee and holding an enormous box of dark chocolate truffles. He smiled at her. His eyes looked tired, but in no way detracted from his sheer sexiness. In fact it only served to enhance it.
Zoe did a little jumpy clap and then sat down on the one spot of the bed that wasn’t covered in flowers. “This is the best surprise ever,” she said, blushing at her idiotic move. “How did you know sunflowers were my favorite?”
“Read an interview you did.” Christian’s finger tapped his freshly shaven cheek. “Kiss me right here.” She happily obliged him. “Go get dressed, sweetheart.”
“But it’s so early.” She stood up, then stretched. Her back was only a little sore this morning.
“You can sleep on the way.” He lightly tapped her on her bottom.
She shot him a dirty look. “You’re not the boss of me.”
“That’s what you think,” he said, his easy charm making her eyes roll.
“Where are you taking me?” Zoe asked as the private jet took off.
Out of habit, she gripped the arms of supple leather chair, then relaxed as the jet righted itself. The interior was everything she’d imagined one to be: Wainscoting and cream walls, groups of chairs placed around tables large enough to eat and play games. A large corner sofa done in a pale green looked wide enough for two people to sleep on. To her right a widescreen television displayed two soccer teams playing.
Maybe Christian wouldn’t mind if she took some pictures with her phone, for research purposes. This kind of jet was exactly like the one Dimitri would fly on. Guilt pricked at her. There was no way she’d ask him, nor would she take any pictures.
“I thought you liked surprises,” Christian said as he texted. “Why don’t you try to beat my score at ‘Angry Birds’ while I take care of some things?”
“That sounds fun, but I want to sleep.” She leaned back and closed her eyes.
“Go to the back of the plane, first three doors on your left. I have extra clothes hanging in each closet, so if you’d like to borrow something to sleep in, be my guest. However, choose your sleeping quarters wisely, because one is mine,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corner. “But no pressure.”
She stood, moving in the direction of the bedrooms. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
After using the bathroom, she stripped down to her panties and searched through the closet, finding a soft yellow t-shirt. She wasn’t sure if the bedroom she’d chosen was his, and she was so tired that it didn’t matter. She pulled on one of Christian soft tees and crawled into bed, sighing as the cool sheets whispered against her skin.
In what seemed like seconds later, she opened her eyes and found Christian sprawled out beside her. His large, lean body took up most of the bed as he slept. Gold-tipped lashes rested on his cheeks and his sensual mouth was slightly parted. Unfortunately, he didn’t look sweet or innocent while he slept.
Her brain told her to leave the room and find another, but her body refused to cooperate. As a compromise, she tried going back to sleep, but found it to be elusive. She must have slept far longer than she thought.
Tentatively, she reached out to trace Christian’s lips and jaw line. A small sweep of his eyebrows had her complaining about men and indecently long lashes. Of course, Johnny Depp costumed as a pirate come to mind. “Eyeliner would look hot on you.”
“Any time you want.”
“Argh,” she shrieked, almost falling off the edge of the bed.
Saving her, he caught hold of her arm and pulled against him. “How’s the sunburn?”
“Much better,” she gulped. Her nipples grew hard, tightening to the point of pain.
“Am I allowed to touch you?”
Nodding, her heart slammed against her chest. “Just go slow.”
“I wouldn’t dream of hurting you.” His hand smoothed down her back, finding her butt and cupping a cheek. “Does this hurt?”
“No.”
He kissed her forehead. “Your turn.”
“Why are you in my bed?” she asked, squeezing her eyes shut.
“I meant it was your turn to touch me.” Laughter rumbled from his chest. “Technically, every bed is mine since I own the plane.” His lips brushed her eyebrows, then her nose. “Have you figured out where I’m taking you?”
“In here?”
He pulled her thigh over his. She grabbed his butt, firm and muscular from the hours of exercise he put in to stay in shape. “Bold move, love. I like it.” Boxer briefs did little to hide his arousal as he pressed it against her. He was hard and thick. She grew wet, heated. “Now, guess again.”
“India?” Opening her eyes, she slid her other hand up his muscular chest.
Rolling her to her back, he lowered his mouth, hovering it millimeters away from her lips. “Is this allowed, too?”
“Yes,” she exhaled on a moan as he rocked against her. She ached all over. For him. “Are you taking me to Hawaii?”
“Nope.” He nibbled on her bottom lip, still not kissing her. In fact he was driving her insane with wanting him. “Guess again.”
She wrapped her legs around his waist. His hands slid into her hair, gently rubbing at the scalp. “Timbuktu?”
His teeth found her ear and bit down. Hard. Just the way she liked it.
“Getting warmer.”
No, she was getting hotter. Volcanic. “Norway?” Now his talented tongue and lips had found the hollow of her throat.
“Too cold. Come on, baby, you’re not even trying. Think.”
But she couldn’t as his hands slid from her hair and cupped her breasts, lifting them up for his pleasure. His tongue flicked out on each nipple, making her arch her back and sink her hands into his hair to draw him closer. The t-shirt she wore became wet from his ministrations. His hot mouth opened over a nipple. She cried out when he began to suckle through the cotton material. His hips moved, the hard part of him grinding into her in the most delicious way.
Her hands fell away, searching for sheets that she needed to grip. “Oh God.”
Slowly, he edged the t-shirt upward, baring her skin to him. He pressed open mouth kisses to her stomach, blazing a path downward. His tongue circled her bellybutton. “Zoe, let me take care of you. Let me touch you here.” His thumb slipped under the edge of her panties, a teasing caress.
“I-I…” She arched into his palm as he cupped her, trembling at his touch. He licked the insides of each thigh, then bit them. Lick, nibble and bite. Over and over, he followed this pattern. Driving her to a blinding point of need, until she grabbed his head and guided him where she wanted him the most.
“You’re so wet for me.”
Zoe looked into his passion-filled eyes. The satisfied expression on his face, the smile that was triumphant and tender. “Please, Christian.”
His smile became wolfish and just as he eased the lace over her hips, a discreet tap on the door sounded. He paused, his fingers letting go of her and flexing.
“Mr. Romanov, we’ve been contacted for an Angel Flight. Should I tell the pilot to decline or accept?”
“We always accept.” He kissed his way back up her body, until she was trembling with desire. “We’ll finish this later.” His mouth covered hers for a lingering kiss.
“But I don’t want to stop.” Later was no good. Later she might come to her senses. Later, he might do the same.
“Neither do I, but I don’t have much of a choice.”
“Yes, you do.” She kissed him again, until he was the one trembling and fisting his hands in her hair.
He growled, then turned his head, ending their kiss. “Stop…we have to stop. I’m sorry, but an Angel Flight is for critically ill patients whose family can’t afford to get them to the places they need to receive treatment. No matter how much I want you right now, I can’t. Please understand.”
Her jaw dropped. Finally, she managed to say, “I’ve never heard about you doing this.”
“This isn’t about me,” he whispered against her lips. “It’s about helping other people. The press doesn’t need to know everything.”
