Annie West - Sleeping With The Enemy

Violet eyes flashed fire as she put her hands on her hips and faced him squarely. “Six weeks ago, you did not have a title. And my brother has as much money as you do, if not more. As for the companies, I could give a damn about either of them for all the good it would do me.”

Nico tried not to be distracted by the way her waist curved in over the flare of her hips or the way her posture emphasized the full thrust of her breasts against her silk shirt. His body was hyperaware of her, but he could handle that. He simply refused to give in to the attraction.

“Her hair was straight,” he said coldly.

She blinked, and triumph surged within him. He had her there. What a pretty liar she was.

Then she laughed at him as she twisted a finger into a curl and pulled it straight. “It’s called a blow out, you idiot. Give me twenty minutes with a hair dryer, and I’ll show you hair as straight as a file.”

He stiffened. “That hardly proves it was you.”

She took a step closer to him, and he had the distinct impression she was stalking him. It turned him on more than it ought. For a moment he wanted to close the distance between them, wanted to fit his mouth to hers and see if the sparks he felt in the air also extended to the physical. He had enough self-control not to do so, however.

She tilted her chin up, those eyes still flashing fire at him. She had a temper. He didn’t remember that about her, but then she’d only been a teenager when he’d last known her. All he remembered about her then was a girl who hid behind her hair and went mute whenever he spoke to her.

Now she jabbed a manicured finger at him. “Shall I tell you everything about that night, starting with the moment you asked me if I was okay on the dock? Or should I describe your room at the Hotel Daniele? The way you turned off all the lights and told me no names and no faces? The way you peeled off my gown and kissed my skin while I—” here she swallowed “—I gasped?”

She broke off then, her face red, and Nico felt a jolt of need coiling at the base of his spine. He’d bedded a lot of women over the years, but none so fascinating as the one he’d taken that night. It had been a true one-night stand, and in the morning he’d awakened to find her gone. He’d been rather amused with the way it had made him feel, as if she’d used him and discarded him, and yet he’d been wistful, too.

Because, no matter what he’d said to his mystery woman about remaining anonymous, he’d wanted to see her again after that night. There’d been something between them that he’d wanted to explore further. It had only been sex, he knew that, but when he found a woman he enjoyed, he usually spent more than one night with her.

He’d asked the hotel staff if they remembered her or if they had seen which direction she’d gone in when she’d left.

The lone man on duty that night had said she’d left around two in the morning, silk-and-feather mask intact and pale green dress clutched in her fists as she ran through the lobby. He had not noted which direction she’d gone after she’d taken the gondola, and he didn’t remember which gondolier had taken her.

A general inquiry of the gondoliers plying that part of the city had turned up nothing.

And that had been the end of that. Nico had been disappointed, but he’d gotten over it soon enough. It was sex, not love—and he could find plenty of sexual partners when the need arose. One sexy, inexperienced woman was not necessary to his life any more than a fine brandy was. They were both enjoyable, but completely dispensable.

“You could have learned those details from someone else. They prove nothing,” he told her. And yet his blood hummed at her nearness, almost the way it had that night.

Her head dipped then, her eyes dropping away from his. “This is ridiculous,” she breathed. And then she turned and sank onto the couch again, her eyes closing as her skin whitened.

Guilt pricked him. “Do you need another biscuit? More tea?”

“No. I just need to sit a moment.” She looked up at him, her mouth turning down in a frown. “You’re right, of course. I’m making the whole thing up. Renzo put me up to it so we could embarrass you. Because of course you would be embarrassed, wouldn’t you? You, the man who has at least a dozen scantily clad paddock girls clinging to you after your races, the man who appears in the tabloids on a regular basis with some new woman on his arm, the man who famously stood in the middle of a party one evening and kissed every woman who asked to be kissed—yes, that man would be so embarrassed by me and my baby, though we would probably only burnish his bad-boy reputation.”

Anger flared inside him. She was making fun of him—and the worst part was that what she said made a perverse sort of sense.

“How do I know what you and Renzo have in mind?” he snapped. “Perhaps you see this as a way to infuse the D’Angeli blood with legitimacy and credibility. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to deal with title hunters, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

He didn’t think it was possible she could grow any paler, but she did.

“You are vile,” she said. “So full of yourself and your inflated sense of self-importance. I don’t know why I wanted to tell you about the baby, but I thought you had a right to know. And I certainly don’t want anything from you. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to just sit here quietly. I’d show you out, but I’m certain you can find the door.”

Nico stared down at her for several heartbeats. She seemed distressed, and his natural instinct was to stay and help her. But he couldn’t forgive what she was trying to do to him.

“You’ve forgotten one very important detail about that night, cara . Perhaps your informant failed to mention it, or perhaps she did and you were hoping I’d forgotten, but we used protection. I may enjoy a variety of bed partners, but I am not stupid or careless.”

“I’m well aware of it, but the box does say ninety-nine percent effective, does it not? We seem to be the one percent for whom it was not.”

His jaw clenched together so hard he thought his teeth might crack. “Nice try, bella , but it’s not working. Tell Renzo to think up something else.”

And then he walked out the door and shut it firmly behind him.

Tina wanted to throw something, but the effort wouldn’t be worth the slim satisfaction she would feel, so she continued to sit on the couch, sip tea and nibble biscuits until her stomach calmed down.

She should feel satisfied that she’d done the right thing and told him, but all she felt was anger and frustration. Whatever had happened between her brother and Nico, it had certainly created a lingering animosity.

She had come to a realization, though. She would not tell Renzo who had fathered her baby. He would demand to know, but it wasn’t his right to know. She was twenty-four and capable of making her own decisions. She’d gotten herself into this, and she would deal with the consequences. Perhaps it was for the best that Nico refused to believe her. Now it wasn’t necessary that she tell anyone.

Her mother, at least, would support her decision. How could she not, when she’d spent years denying Tina the right to know who her own father was?

Tina frowned. Poor Mama. Her mother had been in and out of love dozens of times that Tina could recall. Even now, she was off to Bora-Bora with her current lover, a man who Tina hoped was finally the right one. If anyone deserved love, it was Mama. She’d worked hard and sacrificed a lot until Renzo had started building his motorcycles and making money at it.

Tina sighed. At least she had a reprieve for a while. Mama was away, and Renzo, Faith and their baby were on their private yacht somewhere in the Caribbean, enjoying their first vacation in months. Not only that, but Renzo was also recuperating from surgery to repair his damaged leg. The last thing she wanted was to disrupt his recovery with her news.