“Is that so?” Leo said, his gaze slipping over her once more. There was heat and promise in that voice, and a hint of possession, as well. It infuriated her—and intrigued her.
“If you wish to tour Amanti,” she said crisply, already partially regretting the impulse that had her choosing him over tomorrow’s papers, “we can leave around nine in the morning.”
“Nine?” he mocked. “I doubt I’ll have slept off tonight’s debaucheries by then.”
Anna felt her ears going hot. She refused to picture any debauchery. “Nine o’clock, Mr. Jackson. Or not at all.”
“You drive a hard bargain, darling,” he drawled, as if he weren’t in the least bit dangerous to her sense of well-being. “But we’ll do it your way.”
Before she knew what he was about, he caught her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. Her skin tingled as his warm breath washed over her, his beautiful lips skimming so lightly over her flesh. She couldn’t suppress the small shudder that racked her body or the ache of sensation that made her crave more of his touch.
Leo Jackson looked up, his gaze sharp. Too sharp. As if he’d seen through to the core of her and knew what she’d been thinking. That devilish grin was back as his coffee-colored eyes glittered with heat. “Tomorrow, darling,” he said. “I look forward to it.”
Anna pulled her hand away, tried very hard to ignore the pulsing throb in her belly, between her legs. “I’m not your darling, Mr. Jackson.”
He winked. “Not yet. But let’s see what tomorrow brings, shall we?”
After a restless night, Anna rose early the next morning, and then showered and dressed with care. She was the tourist ambassador to Amanti, not a woman going on a date, so she chose a fashionable skirt and blazer. She paired the gray suit with a red silk camisole—her one nod to color—her pearls, and gray suede pumps. She wrapped her long dark hair in a neat knot and secured it with pins. Then she slipped on mascara and lip gloss before walking over to the cheval glass and studying her reflection from head to toe.
She looked professional, competent. Precisely the way she wanted to appear. She absolutely did not care whether Leo Jackson found her attractive or not.
Liar.
Anna frowned at herself. She wasn’t unattractive; she was professional. And she intended to stay that way. If she could control nothing else about these chaotic past few weeks, she could at least control her image. And this was the image she wanted to project. Serenity in the face of turmoil. Grace under fire. A calm port in the storm.
Anna patted her hair one last time before she whirled away from the mirror, found her handbag and cell phone, checked her calendar to make sure she’d taken care of everything and left her room at precisely twenty to nine. Her room was two floors up from Leo Jackson’s room, but first she took an elevator down to the dining room and grabbed a quick cup of coffee and a whole-grain muffin before going back up to Leo’s floor. At three minutes to nine, she knocked on his door.
Nothing happened. Anna frowned as she listened for movement behind the door. She checked her watch, studied the sweep of the second hand across the mother-of-pearl face. At nine o’clock precisely, she knocked again. “Mr. Jackson?” she said, pressing her face close to the door in order not to wake any of the other late-sleeping guests in nearby rooms. “Are you in there?”
Two minutes later, when she’d knocked yet again—louder this time, because she was getting very annoyed—the door jerked open.
Anna’s stomach flipped at the sight of Leo Jackson in all his bad-boy glory. Heavens above, why did this man have to be so compelling? She should feel nothing for him but contempt. Not only had his family wrecked her perfect life, but he was also not the sort of man a proper lady should ever get involved with.
Yet heat bloomed in her cheeks as she thought of his comment last night about debauchery. Because that’s precisely what he looked like—as if he’d spent the night in some lucky woman’s bed, debauching her thoroughly.
Before she could control herself, Anna thought that she wanted to be debauched. Thoroughly. Repeatedly.
If she could have slapped her palms to her cheeks in horror, she would have done so. She most definitely did not want to be debauched—and certainly not by this rogue.
“Hello, darling,” Leo said casually, his sensual lips twisting in that arrogant grin that had featured so prominently in her thoughts last night while she’d tossed and turned in her bed. And yet, in the moment before he’d spoken, she’d sensed something behind that playboy demeanor, something tightly leashed in and controlled.
A sleek, dangerous beast on a tether.
“Mr. Jackson,” she replied coolly, hoping he couldn’t see the thrum of her pulse in her throat. “We had an appointment at nine, I believe.”
He ran a hand through his dark hair. His eyes gleamed with interest as his gaze slipped over her. He had a day’s growth of beard on his face—and she’d never seen anything sexier in her life.
Neither, it seemed, had some other woman. Or, heaven forbid, women. Yes, she definitely could see Leo Jackson taking more than one woman home with him at a time.
Oh, dear… The images in her head were definitely not safe for public consumption.
But he stood in the door, looking so dissolute and sexy in his tuxedo from last night she couldn’t form a coherent thought as she studied him. The beast was concealed once more, so that she found herself wondering if she’d imagined it. But she had not, she was certain. He was smooth and magnificent—and not quite what he seemed to be at first glance.
His jacket hung open and his shirt was unbuttoned. The tie and studs were gone, probably tucked into a pocket. A bright smudge of pink was smeared across the pristine white of his collar. Lipstick, she realized with a jolt. And not the color Graziana Ricci had been wearing.
She was positive, looking at him, that he’d not spent the night in his own bed. In fact, she was pretty sure he hadn’t slept at all. She tried not to think of what he’d been doing instead—or whom he’d been doing it with.
While she had lain awake thinking about this man, he’d forgotten all about her. Clearly, as his lack of readiness and his delay in answering the door indicated. She only hoped her cheeks weren’t scarlet. What if he had a woman in there right now?
“I—I can come back later,” she blurted. “If you’re, um, busy.”
“Not at all,” he said smoothly, wrapping a hand around her elbow and pulling her into the room. She caught her heel and stumbled to a halt in the small foyer of his suite, her hands automatically bracing against his chest as she nearly lost her balance.
“Sorry about that, darling,” he said, his arms enveloping her. His broad hands were on her back, her waist, searing into her like a flaming-hot brand. Her heart skittered. She had an impression of a sleeping lion rearing its head and sniffing the air for prey.
“I don’t think you’re sorry at all,” she bit out, and then stifled a gasp when she realized what she’d said. No matter how she felt about Leo Jackson, it wasn’t permissible to be rude. She’d spent a lifetime learning the art of diplomacy, a skill she would have needed as Queen of Santina one day. And she’d just failed miserably, hadn’t she?
No wonder Alex had left her. Except, how was Allegra Jackson any better suited to be a queen, considering how scandalously her family had behaved last night?
If appearances were any indication, this particular Jackson had behaved very badly indeed.
Leo laughed, the fingers of one hand caressing the furrow