She held her purse in front of her stomach with both hands, suddenly feeling terribly gauche…well, even more so than usual. ‘About last night…’ she began.
‘Don’t mention it. I won’t.’ Another glinting look. ‘It can be our little secret.’
She gnawed her lip as she thought of all the thousands of followers he would have on Twitter or other social media. He could make an absolute fool of her with a couple of hash tags. What if he’d taken pictures of her without her knowing? Her stomach dropped. The stripper routine. Oh, God. What if he’d recorded it? Uploaded it? Sent it out to cyberspace. What if he blackmailed her? What if—?
He reached into his trouser pocket and handed her his phone. ‘You can check it if you like.’
Daisy stared at his phone as if it were a grenade with the pin pulled out. ‘I really don’t think that’s—’
‘Here, I’ll show you.’ He came and stood shoulder to shoulder with her, accessing the camera roll on his phone. ‘See?’
She peered at the images he was scrolling through, conscious of the way his light lemony and citrus cologne sharpened the air. She could feel the slightest brush of his hair-roughened arm against her smoother one. Her traitorous mind began assembling images of them in bed together, limbs entangled, lips locked, tongues mating. ‘Good gracious, is that a dress that girl is almost wearing?’
He gave one of his deep rumbly chuckles that sent her senses spinning all over again. ‘For a simple scrap of fabric it was damn hard to get off.’
Daisy gave him a wry glance. ‘What? She didn’t offer to help you?’
‘Can’t remember.’ He carried on thumbing through another few photos.
‘How long ago was it—erm, she?’
‘Ages ago.’ He flashed her a sudden grin. ‘A couple of weeks at least.’
Daisy rolled her eyes and then pointed to a picture on the photo stream of a slightly older woman standing next to Luiz at what looked like a cocktail party. ‘Who’s that?’
‘My mother, Eloise.’
Something about the way he said his mother’s name alerted her to an undercurrent of tension. ‘She looks very beautiful. Very glamorous. Like a movie star.’
His lips moved in the semblance of a smile. ‘Yes, she likes the spotlight, that’s for sure.’
‘You’re not close?’
He looked at her briefly, his eyes meshing with hers in a moment of silence. There was a vacancy in the back of his gaze, as if he was looking in the past for something but was having trouble finding it. ‘We were once, or so I thought.’
‘When was that?’
He clicked off the screen of his phone and slipped it back into his pocket in a subject closed manner. ‘What do you normally eat for breakfast?’
‘Well…ideally, I would eat an egg white omelette and drink a herbal tea.’
His brow lifted. ‘Ideally?’
She gave him a self-deprecating look. ‘I’m rubbish at sticking to diets. I last about three days and then I cave in and eat everything that isn’t nailed down.’
‘How does bacon and eggs, pancakes, maple syrup and a side of hash browns sound?’
Daisy swayed on her feet as if about to go into a swoon. ‘Like heaven. I’m so hungry I could eat a horse and chase the rider.’
He stood looking down at her with a gleaming look in his dark as pitch eyes. ‘I’ve heard there are some riders out there who like to do all the chasing.’
Daisy held his look with an aplomb she had no idea she possessed. Who knew flirting could be so much fun? ‘Then perhaps those riders should make sure they never get caught.’
He picked up a lock of her hair and twirled it a couple of times around his tanned finger. She felt the gentle tug as one by one the roots of her hair lifted off her scalp. His eyes slipped to her mouth, lingered there as if he was weighing up whether to kiss her or not.
Do it. Do it. Do it, a voice chanted in her head.
His head came down in a slow motion action, blocking out the light shining in from the window. He stopped a mere millimetre away from her mouth, close enough for their breaths to mingle. His smelt of toothpaste. God alone knew what hers smelt like after a night on the tiles. Bathroom ones included. Ack!
Daisy put a fingertip against his lips, her voice coming out as little more than a husky whisper. ‘Wait.’
He nibbled her fingertip with his lips, making her legs unlock at the knees. ‘What for?’
‘I haven’t even told you my name.’
He turned her hand over and kissed a tickling pathway from her wrist to her elbow. ‘So, tell me.’
She shivered as his lips came back down to the sensitive skin on the underside of her wrist. ‘Daisy…Daisy Wyndham.’
He held her wrist to his mouth as his eyes meshed with hers. ‘Nice.’
Daisy had trouble breathing. His eyes were so dark she felt as if she were drowning in their bottomless depths. His stubble-surrounded mouth against her skin was making her belly do somersaults worthy of a Cirque du Soleil performance. She even heard the rasp of his skin as he moved his mouth to the heel of her hand as his tongue made one flicking lick against the ridge of flesh. A flashpoint of heat triggered a tumult of sensation in her core. She hadn’t even realised that part of her hand had an erogenous zone.
The doorbell sounded behind him and he dropped her hand with a regretful smile. ‘Breakfast.’
FOOD HAD NEVER been further from Daisy’s mind, which was saying something as normally it was always on her mind. Forbidden food. The yummy stuff she secretly craved but rigorously denied herself in fear of losing control. Her father had drummed it into her from early childhood that being in control of one’s mind and body and physical appetites was the mark of a well-disciplined person. In order to win his approval she denied herself anything that was the slightest bit sinful. But the years of self-denial hadn’t made her stronger and more disciplined. If anything, they had made her all the more conflicted and confused about what she wanted and why she wanted it.
She watched with her mouth watering and her stomach rumbling as Luiz opened the door to the hotel attendant, who wheeled in a loaded trolley of silver domed dishes. The delicious aroma almost knocked her off her feet. Crispy bacon, soufflé-soft scrambled eggs, deep-fried hash browns, fluffy buttermilk pancakes, the sweetness of maple syrup—not the cheap imitation but the real stuff—a platter of tropical fruit, coffee and even a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket.
The attendant left with a sizeable tip in his hand, closing the door on his exit.
‘Wow.’
Luiz tossed his wallet on the sofa. ‘Hungry?’
‘I meant the tip.’ Daisy’s eyes were still out on stalks. ‘Did you really give that young man two hundred dollars?’
He shrugged a loose shoulder. ‘I can afford it.’
‘Do you light your cigarettes with a fifty?’
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