Daisy swung around to face him, a dangerous manoeuvre given she was mummy-wrapped in one of his sheets. She would have gone over except one of his hands shot out to steady her. It was warm and strong against her flesh, his fingers like velvet-covered steel. Something flashed through her brain…a vague memory of strong arms holding her close. Protectively close. Fresh-smelling laundry detergent and lemon-scented male flesh close to her face. A rock-steady heartbeat. A sense of being carried to safety… She frowned to bring the memory closer but it floated away like an apparition that no longer wanted to be seen.
She craned her head right back to look into his eyes, her stomach folding over at the satirical gleam that permanently shone there. ‘Why did you do that?’
‘Have your clothes cleaned?’
‘Yes.’
‘Seemed the right thing to do under the circumstances.’
‘What…erm, circumstances?’
His mouth had that half smiling slant to it again. ‘After the lap dance you had an episode of dispensing with the contents of your stomach in my bathroom. Unfortunately, your aim was off.’
Oh, dear Lord above. Could this nightmare get any worse? ‘I was…sick?’
‘Spectacularly so.’
Daisy chewed her lower lip, desperately trying not to picture how that might have played out. No one looked their best when being sick. But it was the ultimate humiliation to have disgraced herself in front of him. He was so self-assured. So suave. How he must have gloated over her misfortune after the way she had rejected his offer of a dance. He couldn’t have asked for a better comeuppance for her. She had been so dismissive of his warning the night before. Arrogant even. How had she been so stupid and trusting to let something like that happen? Ugh! She was not some silly young girl on her first night on the town. She had a university degree, for God’s sake.
She rummaged inside her purse for a handful of banknotes, thrusting them at him. ‘I’m terribly sorry for any inconvenience I’ve caused. I hope this covers the expense of…erm, seeing to my needs.’ Bleah. Bad choice of words.
He pushed her hand back with a gentle but firm pressure, his eyes locked on hers. ‘I don’t want your money.’
Daisy was having trouble concentrating. Her thoughts were flying all over the place. The energy coming from his hand where it was holding hers back was making her whole body fizz with reaction. It was like being plugged into a power outlet with too high a voltage for her sensitive wiring. She was going to short circuit for sure. He was so intensely male. So unbelievably handsome it made a hollow space inside her belly vibrate. Her eyes kept tracking to his mouth. Had he kissed her? How annoying she couldn’t remember. That was a mouth that would know how to kiss. There would be no teeth scraping and nose bumping and awkward repositioning of lips and tongues. That was a mouth that knew how to seduce, to slay her senses with one brush of those hard male lips against hers. She drew in a shaky little breath and pushed back against his hand. ‘Take it. I insist.’
He pushed back a little harder. The uptake of tension triggered something deep and low in her pelvis. She felt it between her thighs, a tight ache that was part pulse, part contraction. A frisson shimmied down her spine as his fingers wrapped around hers, tethering her to him. His hands were not smooth but slightly calloused, which was strangely arousing. His thumb found her pulse and measured its frantic pace. ‘I have plenty of money.’
Daisy gave him an imperious look to disguise the catastrophic effect he was having on her senses. ‘Is that supposed to impress me?’
A lazy smile teased up the corners of his mouth. ‘Nothing else has so far.’
She raised one of her eyebrows. ‘You mean I wasn’t left breathless and gasping by your…erm, attentions last night?’
He gave a deep chuckle, which combined with that toe-curling stroking along the thumpety-thump-thump-thump of her pulse, made her senses careen off into another tailspin. ‘Your honour was safe with me, dulzura. I didn’t lay a finger on you.’
Daisy pulled out of his hold, blinking at him in surprise. ‘Y-You didn’t?’
He shook his head with mock gravitas.
‘Why not?’
‘I prefer my women sober.’
She glared at him again, stamping her foot for good measure. ‘I was not drunk! I’ve never been intoxicated in my life.’
‘You were legless last night. Just as well I came along when I did. You were about to get down and dirty with the man in Suite 1524.’
Daisy stopped glaring at him. Another fragmented memory filtered through the haze of her brain. The guy from Ealing pressuring her to have a drink. Refusing his offer but finding he had bought her one while she had gone to the restroom. He insisting he keep her company while she drank it. She had suffered his company because she’d become so irritated with seeing Luiz Valquez working the room like Casanova with catnip. Surely a single vodka and orange wouldn’t have caused her to lose all sense of control? ‘How do you know I was going to…erm, become intimate with that guy? I might’ve just been going to his room to—’
‘Look at his etchings?’
She gave him a look. ‘Not all men have one-track minds, you know.’
He moved over every inch of her sheet-wrapped body with the smouldering heat of his gaze. ‘They do when someone looks as gorgeous as you.’
Daisy knew it was a throwaway line but she couldn’t help feeling a little thrill all the same. It wasn’t that she wasn’t used to compliments. She knew she wasn’t model-thin or billboard-beautiful but she was pretty enough in a girl-next-door sort of way. But hearing him say it made her feel all fluttery and feminine. It made her want to flirt with him, which was rather surprising as she never flirted.
She shuffled over to where her clothes were folded in a neat pile on a coffee table next to one of the plush sofas. ‘I have to get moving. The girls will be waiting for me.’ She scooped up her clothes with her free hand, turning back to glance at him. ‘Do you mind if I use your bathroom to get changed?’
His eyes had that laughing glint in them again. ‘Be my guest.’
Daisy sniffed the air in the luxuriously appointed bathroom for any trace of sickness. To her very great relief it smelt of citrus with a hint of lemongrass and ginger. She unwrapped herself from the sheet and quickly donned her clothes, her fingers tracing over the lace of her bra and knickers as she thought of Luiz handling her intimates, even to pass them over to the laundry staff. Had he put her to bed? Had he carried her or had she walked/stumbled/crawled on her own? Had he tucked her in? A shiver passed over her flesh at the thought of his hands on her naked body. Damn it. Why couldn’t she remember the most exciting moment of her life? If he hadn’t acted inappropriately given the way he said she had, then why not? Wasn’t he supposed to be a bad boy or something?
Or did he have some scruples after all?
When Daisy came out of the bathroom he was standing with his back to her, looking down at the Vegas strip in all its crazy madness. ‘Are you decent?’ he asked.
‘Hardy-ha-ha.’
He grinned as he turned around to face her. ‘Don’t you like your men with a sense of humour?’
Her men? What a laugh. If only he knew the only men in her life were her father, her bodyguard and Robert, the elderly gardener at Wyndham Heath.
Daisy was afraid she was starting to like Luiz Valquez a little too much. His uncharacteristic chivalry was potently attractive. If what he had said was true about her having been in danger of being taken advantage of by the Ealing guy, she owed him a huge debt of gratitude, not censure. Anything could have