She cranked open one eye to find herself in a plush penthouse suite instead of her budget book-three-nights-get-one-free hotel room. Chandeliers dripped from the high ceiling in a waterfall of sparkling and twinkling crystal. The walls were papered in a luxurious satin-embossed two-toned stripe that was unapologetically masculine and yet opulently stylish. The lighting was softly muted but she could see a sliver of bright sunlight through the gap in the brocade curtains, suggesting it was well past dawn. The acre of carpet looked so thick she was sure if she took one step on it she would be knee-deep. Maybe neck-deep. The pillows behind her were as soft as clouds and the sheets that covered her naked body were super-fine Egyptian cotton.
Her stomach swooped. Naked body? She lifted the sheet and peeked beneath it. Eek! She’d had sex with someone? No. Not possible. Not in a million squillion years. She was not the type of girl to go to bed with a stranger. She hadn’t even gone to bed with a friend. Flirting was one thing. Sharing her body with someone was something else again. But why on earth would she be naked in bed if she hadn’t?
No. No. No.
Surely she hadn’t. Had she? She pressed her legs together. Nope. Doesn’t feel any different. She checked her breasts for any love bites. Scrambled up onto her knees to glance in the mirror to see if her neck had any signs of foreplay.
Nothing.
The door of the bedroom opened and Daisy choked out a shocked gasp and quickly cupped her hands over her breasts as Luiz Valquez with his laughing black eyes entered the room. ‘You?’
He gave a mock formal bow. ‘At your service, mi pasión.’
His…passion? Double eek! Daisy dived under the sheets, pulling them right up to her chin. Oh, dear God. What had she done? Or, more to the point… What had he done? Anger came to her rescue, filling her voice with fulminating rage. ‘Where are my clothes?’
The half-smile that tilted his mouth had a glint of devilry about it. ‘Where you left them.’
Her eyes widened in horror. Had he—gulp—stripped her? Stolen her clothes? Was she to be sold into sex slavery? Never to be heard from again? Where was her damn bodyguard when she needed him? She threw Luiz a combative glare, determined not to show how terrified she was. ‘I won’t let you get away with this. You don’t know who you’re dealing with. I have connections that could wipe the floor with you.’
He had the gall to chuckle. ‘You mean those two travelling companions of yours?’
Daisy felt her flesh shrink on her bones. Oh, dear Lord. What if Belinda and Kate had been kidnapped as well? Were all three of them to be shipped off to some ghastly foreign hellhole where disgusting men would paw and slaver over them? She could already see the headlines. Three London Infant Teachers: Tragic Victims of International Sex Slave Ring. ‘Wh-what about them?’
His dark eyes gave nothing away other than amusement. ‘They weren’t the least bit interested in coming to your rescue.’
She narrowed her gaze to slits. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I asked them to fetch you from my suite last night but they refused.’
Daisy shot him a look of pure venom. ‘I don’t believe you. They would never leave me to fend for myself.’ Hmm, maybe Belinda would. ‘Anyway, how did you contact them? You didn’t have their numbers or names.’
He inspected his square and buffed nails in a casual manner. ‘I sent a staff member to find them. Apparently they were too busy with their dates to come and collect you.’ He looked at her again and added, ‘Their message to you was—and I quote—“Have fun”.’
I am so going to kill you, Belinda.
Daisy huddled further up the bank of pillows under her shroud of luxury sheets. He looked so…so unlike a sexual predator. He was too sophisticated. Too clock-stopping handsome. Why would he have to resort to kidnap when he could crook his little finger and have any woman he wanted? Except you, she thought as she recalled her haughty rejection of him in the bar. She swallowed to clear the ropey knot of part dread, part excitement currently clogging her throat. She had spent the night with one of the world’s most notorious bad boys. How had he changed her mind? And why couldn’t she remember a single second of it? ‘What happened last night?’
He hooked an ink-black eyebrow upwards. ‘You don’t remember?’
She frantically hunted through her memory but it was like rifling through a file that hadn’t been organised properly. Nothing made sense. She could only remember watching him for most of the night, feeling annoyed he was never without a partner. He seemed to be flaunting them before her every time she looked at him, doing raunchy dance moves with an array of nubile young women.
It was nauseating.
Daisy had staunchly remained a wallflower—her default position—until a compatriot from Ealing had asked her to dance. She hadn’t really wanted to dance with him but she must have changed her mind for she remembered being on the dance floor and at one point cannoning into Luiz. The shockwave of touching his hard male body had sent her senses spinning like a top. His dark eyes had run over her partner in a sizing up look and his top lip had curled as if to say, Is that the best you could do? But after that her memory was a blank.
She gave him a caustic glare. ‘Why did you bring me here?’
He sent his gaze over her in a long lazy sweep. ‘You can’t guess?’
In spite of her trepidation, Daisy felt every pore of her skin flower open in response. Heat rushed along her veins, lighting a fire that fanned out from her core. Damn the man for being so attractive. How shameful of her to be so turned on by such a fiend. No wonder her father thought she needed a bodyguard. Clearly she was a ticking time bomb when left to her own devices. One night let loose on the town and she hooked up with the world’s most wicked playboy. ‘Did you—’ she swallowed tightly again ‘—undress me?’
His expression was now deadpan. ‘No.’
Daisy looked at him blankly. ‘Then who did?’
‘You did.’
Her eyes were so wide with shock they felt as if they were going to pop out of her head. She hadn’t been naked in front of anyone since she was twelve. She was twenty-six years old and she still got dressed under a towel at the gym. Body issues had plagued her since she hit puberty. Small breasts, a jelly belly if she didn’t do a hundred sit-ups a day and thighs that had a tendency to look like cottage cheese if she didn’t stick to her diet of cottage cheese. ‘I don’t believe you.’
A glimmer of a smile came back in his eyes. ‘I thought you said you were a teacher. Where did you learn the stripper routine?’
‘You’re lying!’ she choked. ‘I would never do something like that!’
‘It was the best lap dance I’ve ever had and I didn’t even have to tip for it.’
Daisy felt a blush move over her face like a flame let loose beneath her skin. ‘I don’t believe you. You’re making this up.’ You must be. You have to be.
He shrugged as if he didn’t give a damn either way. ‘You want some breakfast before you leave?’
Daisy frowned in a combination of confusion and an inexplicable sense of disappointment. He was letting her go? ‘You mean you’re not going to keep me here chained to the bed to have your wicked way with me?’
Those sinfully dark eyes roved over her huddled form once more, sending another wave of heat to her core. ‘Thanks, but no.’
She knew it was inconsistent of her to feel slighted but surely she hadn’t been that much of a flop in bed? Sure, she might