Sarah Morgan - The Twelve Nights of Christmas

His eyes dark with fury, he came to a halt right in front of her. ‘Not a big deal? Either you are the most insensitive, selfish, greedy woman I’ve ever met or you have no idea of the magnitude of the trouble you’ve just caused.’

Up close, she could see the rough shadow that framed his hard jaw. She saw that his eyelashes were thick and dark and that underneath his fierce gaze there were dangerous shadows. Other women talked about his monumental sex appeal, but Evie was too scared to feel anything other than fear. ‘I’m not selfish or greedy,’ she defended herself in a shaky voice, ‘and I honestly don’t see that spending a night in that bed is such a big deal. I shouldn’t have done it, but I thought the Penthouse was empty overnight. And I didn’t even dirty the sheets. I slept on top of the covers.’

‘Of course you slept on top of the covers,’ he gritted. ‘How else could the photographer have taken his picture?’ He fisted his hand in the front of the throw and pulled her hard against him. Breathing heavily, the backs of his fingers pressed into her cleavage as he held her trapped.

Evie, who rarely felt intimidated by men because of her height, was definitely intimidated now.

For once she felt dwarfed, his superior height making her feel small and insignificant and she swiftly re-evaluated her belief that it would be nice to meet a man taller than her.

Through the mist of panic, her brain finally latched on to something he’d said.

‘Photographer?’ Trying to breathe, she stared up at him blankly. ‘What photographer?’

His eyes dropped to her mouth and that single look weakened her knees. For a moment she saw what other women saw. Raw sex appeal. She might have been attracted to him herself if she hadn’t been so terrified. Wondering if she was the only one who was feeling suffocated, she gasped as he suddenly released her. Her hands shot out to balance herself and the silk throw slid to the ground.

With a squeak of embarrassment, Evie made a grab for it but not before she’d seen the sudden darkening in his eyes and heard the burly security man gulp. ‘I need to get dressed!’ She’d hung her wet clothes on the heated towel rail in the bathroom, but they ought to be dry by now.

With a contemptuous sound, Rio Zaccarelli turned away from her. ‘It’s a little late for modesty, don’t you think? By tomorrow, that photograph will be all over the world.’

‘What photograph?’ She wrapped the throw around her as tightly as she could. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

Rio gave a growl of anger. ‘The photograph of us kissing. I want the name of the photographer and the name of the person who put you up to this. Start giving me facts.’

Evie glanced back towards the bedroom, retracing the events of the past few minutes. ‘I…someone took a picture of me?’

A muscle flickered in his jaw. ‘Generally, I pride myself on my control but today I seem to be falling short of my usual high standards. If you don’t want to see a first-hand demonstration of the meaning of the word angry, then don’t play stupid.’

‘I’m not playing stupid! I didn’t see a photographer. You were in my line of vision, remember? All I saw was you.’

Deep colour highlighted his cheekbones and his eyes burned. ‘Are you seriously expecting me to believe that you didn’t see the light or the man running out of the room?’

Evie thought back, but all she could think about was how amazing it had felt to be kissed by him. She remembered warmth, the most incredible excitement, flashing lights— flashing lights?

Appalled, she stared at him and his mouth twisted in cynical derision.

‘Memory returning?’ He was so arrogantly sure of himself that Evie bristled and decided that there was no way she was confessing she’d thought the lights were part of the firework display set off in her body by his incredible kiss. His monumentally overinflated ego obviously didn’t need any help from her.

‘I didn’t see him. As I said, you were blocking my view of the room.’

‘Unfortunately, I wasn’t blocking his view of you. He now has a picture of us—’ his expression was grim as he watched her ‘—together.’

As the implications of his words sank home, Evie felt her limbs weaken. ‘Hold on a moment. Are you telling me that some stranger just took a picture of me, naked on the bed?’ Panic and horror rushed up inside her. She hated having her picture taken, even when she was fully clothed, but naked—?

‘I’ve already warned you—I’m not in the mood.’ There was no mistaking the deadly warning in his tone or the tension in his body language. He was a man no one was likely to mess with and Evie felt her mouth dry as her gaze clashed with pitch-black eyes.

‘I’m not in the mood, either,’ she squeaked. ‘And I’m not playing games. How did a photographer get in here? Why would he want to take a photograph of me? What’s he going to do with it?’ Anxiety set her tongue loose but he silenced her with a single searing glance.

‘If you utter one more ingenuous question I just might drop you naked on the street outside. How much did he pay you?’

Struggling to keep up with his thought process, Evie opened her mouth and closed it again. ‘You honestly think anyone would pay to take a picture of my body? Are you mad?’ Her voice rose. ‘Presumably, you’ve already noticed that I’m not exactly a supermodel! The only way anyone would be interested in looking at me naked is one of those hideous before and after photos. You know— “and this is Evie before she went on the wonder diet and lost twenty kilos.” ’

His eyes blazed dark with incredulity. ‘Is that all you can think about? Whether the photographer took your good side?’

‘No, because I don’t have a good side! I look the same from every angle, which is why I never let anyone take my photo!’ She’d never before met a man she wanted to kiss and slap at the same time and it was such a shockingly confusing sensation that her head spun. She wanted to defend herself. She wanted to protest that she wasn’t superficial and that having a photograph taken of her naked was right up there with her worst nightmares. It was like being back in the playground.

Evie the elephant —

‘Wh…what’s he going to do with that photograph?’ She tried to calm herself down with logic and reason. This wasn’t the playground. ‘No one is going to want to look at a picture of me naked. There is no reason anyone would want to publish a picture of me…’ as she stared into his taut, handsome face, her voice faded to a horrified whisper ‘…but there’s every reason why they’d publish a picture of you. ’ And she was in that picture. Suddenly, everything was clear. She thought of all the vile, degrading ‘kiss and tell’ stories she’d read. ‘Oh, my God—’

Rio was watching her, his mouth tight. ‘How much did he pay you?’

‘Nothing! I don’t know anything about this! I’m as innocent as you are.’ But she could tell he didn’t believe her and what she saw in those glittering black eyes was so terrifying that she wanted to confess everything on the spot. Because his expression was so scary, she looked at his mouth instead and suddenly all she was thinking about was that scorching kiss. Where had he learned to kiss like that?

‘Innocent girls don’t lie in wait, naked, on a guy’s bed.’

‘I wasn’t lying in wait! How could you even think that? I’ve been kicked out of my flat and I had nowhere to go last night and—’ Evie thought about the sequence of events. Carlos had offered her the use of the room. When she’d refused, he’d insisted. It was Carlos who had encouraged her to take a shower and dry her wet clothes on the radiator. Appalled, she looked up at Rio Zaccarelli and saw his mouth tighten as he read her mind.