Carole Mortimer - From New York With Love

How did this woman manage to deflate his temper, to make him want to smile, when just seconds ago he had been in a less than agreeable mood at how distracted he had been all afternoon? Because of this woman...

But smile he did as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. ‘It really bothers you, doesn’t it?’

‘All that naked manly chest stuff? Yes, it does.’ She nodded. ‘And it isn’t polite, either.’

‘That was a rebuke worthy of my mother!’ Lucien was no longer just smiling. He was chuckling softly.

‘And?’

‘And far be it from me to disobey any woman who can scold like my mother!’

‘You’re so funny.’ She eyed him irritably.

He gave an unconcerned shrug. ‘I’ll get you one of my T-shirts.’ No doubt Cyn would look sexy as hell in one of his over-large tops!

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘You’re being very obliging all of a sudden.’

Lucien quirked a dark brow. ‘As opposed to...?’

‘As opposed to your usual bossy and domineering self—’ She broke off to eye Lucien warily as he dropped his arms back to his sides before stepping closer to her.

‘You know, Cyn,’ he murmured softly, ‘it really isn’t a good idea to insult your dinner host.’

‘Would that be the same dinner host who almost ripped my blouse off me a few minutes ago?’

The very same dinner host who would enjoy nothing more than ripping the rest of that blouse from her body! The realisation made Lucien scowl again.

This woman—too young for him in years and experience, and far too outspoken for her own good—made him forget all his own rules about the women in his life—namely, only older, experienced women, who knew exactly what they were getting—or rather what they were not going to get from him, such as marriage and for ever—when they entered into a relationship with him.

He’d had little time even for the idea of marriage after his parents had separated and then divorced so acrimoniously, and making his own fortune before he was even twenty-one had quickly opened his eyes to the fact that most women saw only dollar signs when they looked at him, not the man behind those billions of dollars.

So far in their acquaintance Cyn Hammond had resisted all his offers of help, financial or otherwise, and that pride and independence just made him like her more.

‘Good point.’ He straightened abruptly. ‘I’ll be back in a few minutes.’

* * *

Thia admired Lucien’s loose-limbed walk as he left the room, only able to breathe again once she knew she was alone. She knew from that determined glitter in Lucien’s eyes just now that she had only barely—literally!—managed to avert a possibly physically explosive situation. Just as she knew she wasn’t sure if she had the strength of will to resist another one...

The truth was her breasts tingled and she grew damp between her thighs every time she so much as dared a glance at all that fascinating naked and bronzed flesh!

Lucien was without doubt the most nerve-sizzling and gorgeous man Thia had ever seen. His whole body was muscled and toned but not too much so, in that muscle-bound and unattractive way some men were. And as for the strength and beauty of that perfectly chiselled face...!

All that wealth and power, and the man also had a face and body that would make poets of both sexes wax lyrical. Hell, she was writing a sonnet in her head about him!

And now she was completely alone with him, in his fiftieth floor apartment, with her tattered and ripped blouse pulled tightly across her bare breasts...

She should have kept to her earlier decision to leave. Should have made her escape as quickly and as—

‘Here you go—what is it?’ Lucien questioned sharply, having come back into the room and seen how pale Cyn’s face had become in his absence. Her eyes were dark and troubled smudges between those sooty lashes. ‘Cyn?’ he prompted again concernedly as she only continued to look at him nervously, with eyes so dark they appeared navy blue.

Her creamy throat moved as she swallowed before speaking. ‘I think it would be better if I left now, after all...’

Lucien frowned. ‘What have you eaten today?’

She looked puzzled by the change of subject. ‘No breakfast, but I bought a hot-dog from a street vendor on the way to the Empire State Building for lunch.’

‘Then you need to eat. Put this T-shirt on and then we’ll go into the kitchen and see what Dex has provided us with to cook for dinner.’ He held out the white T-shirt he had brought back for her to wear, having pulled on a black short-sleeved polo shirt over his own naked chest. A naked chest that had seemed to bother her as much as she bothered him...

Her eyes widened. ‘Does Dex do your food shopping for you, too?’

‘When necessary, yes.’

‘What else does he do for you...?’

‘Many, many things,’ Lucien drawled derisively.

‘You probably wouldn’t know how to go about buying your own groceries anyway,’ she dismissed ruefully.

‘Probably not,’ he acknowledged easily. ‘Does it bother you that we’re eating here?’

Cyn shrugged. ‘I just assumed you would be ordering hotel room service this evening.’

‘Most of the time I do.’ He nodded.

‘But you decided tonight would be an exception?’ she said knowingly.

‘I just thought you would prefer to eat here. Don’t tell me.’ He grimaced. ‘You don’t know how to cook?’

‘Of course I know how to—’ She broke off, eyes narrowing suspiciously. ‘You’re challenging me to get your own way again, aren’t you?’

He quirked a brow. ‘Is it working?’

Some of the tension eased from her expression. ‘Yes.’

He nodded. ‘Then that’s exactly what I’m doing.’

Cyn eyed him frustratedly. ‘Why are you so determined to keep me here?’

Lucien had absolutely no idea! Especially when he had initially made the suggestion of dinner in his apartment just to see what Cyn’s reaction would be. Boy, had that backfired on him! ‘Why are you so determined to leave?’ he came back challengingly.

‘Yep, the face of an angel and the wiles of the devil...’

Lucien heard her mutter the words irritably. ‘Sorry?’ he said. He knew exactly what Cyn had said—he just wanted to see if he could get her to say it again. Especially the part where she said he had the face of an angel...

‘Nothing.’ Cyn refused to humour him and gave a rueful shake of her head. ‘Okay, give me the T-shirt.’ She took it out of his outstretched hand before holding it up defensively in front of her breasts. ‘Why don’t you just disappear off into the kitchen while I slip off my blouse and put this on?’ she prompted as he made no effort to leave.

‘And if I’d rather stay here and watch you slip off your blouse...’

He enjoyed the flush that instantly coloured her cheeks. Enjoyed teasing Cyn, full-stop. So much so that, despite her being so disruptive and stubborn, teasing her was fast becoming one of Lucien’s favourite pastimes. Exclusively so.

‘Life is just full of little disappointments!’ she came back, with insincere sweetness.

‘Oh, it wouldn’t be a little disappointment, Cyn,’ he assured her huskily. And it wouldn’t be; Lucien could imagine nothing he would enjoy more than to see Cyn strip out of her blouse, allowing him to look his fill of those pert little breasts and plump, rose-coloured nipples.

‘Go,’ she instructed firmly.

‘And you accuse me of being bossy...’

‘You’ve made a fine art of it. I’m just doing it out of self-defence.’

Lucien gave a wicked ‘wiles of the devil’ grin. ‘Do you need defending from me?’

She eyed him irritably. ‘Now you’re deliberately twisting my words.’