Defence mechanisms clicking in, Nick stilled then eased away slightly. ‘OK.’ Her head was thrown back, her eyes were closed and her cheeks were hot with colour. He couldn’t resist so he nuzzled the elegant line of her throat, heard her soft moan and sensed her fluctuating inclinations as expertly as he read the stock market.
When he finally lifted his head he saw her eyes open and the flicker of disappointment in their depths she was unable to hide. His smile was a battle between contrition and triumph. He was still in control. ‘Be honest, Liza, you know the sexual chemistry between us is too powerful to ignore,’ he prompted with total conviction.
The chemistry she could not deny, and did not try to. ‘But why did you want me to speak to your mother in the first place?’ she asked shakily, feeling her way through a minefield of conflicting emotions. He implied it was because he wanted her… She should be flattered…but something still niggled. He was an experienced man, and her own innate honesty forced her to admit she would have gone to bed with him anywhere, and he had to know that. ‘We could have stayed in Lanzarote,’ with no family and friends to bother them, she thought, but didn’t say it.
Nick slipped a hand around the nape of her neck; as she felt his fingers lacing through her hair and trying to ignore the racing of her pulse and the heat curling through her at his closeness, she repeated, ‘Why?’
‘Simple expedience, Liza.’ His dark gaze held hers with a narrow-eyed intensity that tore at her fragile control. ‘I had to return to Spain, because my mother and I are the hosts of this party tonight.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Liza murmured. She had forgotten that and felt a fool.
‘Yes, Liza.’ And he tilted her head towards his. ‘And, having just found you, I could not bear to let you go.’
Fantastic as it sounded, Liza wanted to believe him, she wanted Nick to feel just a fraction of what she felt for him, and she told herself his explanation was reasonable. But, held close to his hard body with one arm around her waist and with his other hand in her hair, she had a suspicion he could have told her black was white and she would have believed him. The raw sexuality he exuded was an almost tangible force that enveloped her practically to the exclusion of everything else. But not quite…
‘You could have just asked me.’ Liza stated the obvious, while unable to restrain a thrill of pleasure that a man like Nick might actually want her so desperately.
‘And you would have agreed to take off to another country with me for a party. Just like that?’ Nick stated with a sardonic lift of one black brow. ‘Don’t forget I remember you of old, Liza, and did not fancy getting my face slapped for my cheek.’
‘No, probably not,’ she conceded.
‘So I am forgiven, and that is our first fight over and forgotten and we can get back to more satisfying pursuits,’ he declared huskily.
No asking forgiveness, just declaring it—how like Nick, she thought dazedly as he asserted his masculine power in a wordless possessive look that ripped through the last of her defences. ‘You’re impossible,’ Liza said, her lips parting in a wry smile. ‘Your arrogant conceit never ceases to amaze me.’ But the soft glow in her expression took the sting from her words.
His dark head bent and his hand in her hair tightened, tilting her face up to his, and he brought his mouth gently down on hers. ‘Ah, but admit it, Liza. You would not have me any other way.’ He mouthed the words against her lips and then stopped her outraged gasp by the seductive invasion of his tongue.
Later she might regret it, but with pulses pounding, and the familiar ache of desire coursing through her body, her hands stroked up and over his broad shoulders, and quite simply clung…
Nick’s mouth lifted from hers, his deep brown eyes darkening with passion. ‘I would continue,’ he murmured throatily, ‘but I think I have embarrassed you enough for one day carrying you up here,’ he said ruefully, studying her beautiful, flushed face. ‘Being late for Mamma’s party would really feed the gossip mill.’
‘You’re right.’ Liza sighed her agreement.
‘I always am,’ Nick stated outrageously, and he kissed her again. The passion of his kiss was so overwhelming that she could not immediately pull herself together when he raised his head and stepped back. ‘And, before you ask, the party is formal, and I will be back here to escort you at seven.’
‘I’ll have to find something to wear,’ she blurted, grateful for something normal to focus on when Nick made pea soup of her usually astute deductive powers.
‘You do that.’ And, swooping down, he brushed her mouth with his again. ‘But I much prefer you naked.’ And left.
STANDING under the soothing spray of the shower, Liza tried to make some sense of the past two days. She had woken up in her hotel yesterday morning expecting to attend a seminar for the next two weeks with her boss. Now she was in Spain, having spent a crazy, fantasy few hours of passion with Nick Menendez, and if she was not very careful she was in danger of falling in love with him all over again.
The thought stopped her cold. No, she could not love him…must not, but she had a sinking feeling it might already be too late. What on earth had possessed her to believe she could have a holiday romance and walk away unscathed from a man like Nick? She supposed it was a compliment that he wanted her so badly and, knowing he had to return to Spain, he had got his mother to invite her. But how long would he desire her, and could she survive the ending of what was only a lustful affair to Nick?
Usually she was the sanest, most conservative of women. So what had happened to her? Nick had happened to her…
Turning off the shower, she stepped out and, wrapping a bath sheet around her body, she padded into the bedroom. Ten minutes later, dried and wearing only white lace briefs, she sat in front of the dressing-table mirror drying her hair, a dreamy smile playing around her lips as she reran in her mind the fantastic coincidence of meeting Nick again. She remembered every moment, every touch, every word…
When suddenly she realised just what had been nagging at the back of her mind since last night. When she had met Nick yesterday morning he had taken a great deal of interest in her job. She had told him she worked for Stubbs and Company and she was in Lanzarote with her boss for a conference and all about her unexpected break. But she was sure she’d never mentioned Henry Brown by name.
Yet last night over dinner when Nick had been teasing her about being a lap dancer and suggested she might have a high-powered lover, she had responded that that was classified information.
But then Nick had said he had heard her boss Henry Brown was nowhere near as discerning about his love life and he knew Brown was married.
Thinking about it now, she recalled a brief moment when something had struck her as odd, but she had been so busy trying to act the sophisticate and hold up her side of the conversation she had banished it to the back of her mind. But the more she thought about it, she was absolutely certain she had not mentioned Brown by name earlier in the day. Plus, how had Nick known she was sharing a suite with her boss? For a man who ran a huge international corporation it was odd Nick seemed to know an awful lot about a small company like Stubbs and Company, and had even asked more. As her imagination took flight, industrial espionage sprang to mind…
Later still, wearing the dress she had packed originally to wear at the gala to end the seminar, she studied her finished image in the long mirror. With her long hair swept back into a French pleat, ending in a loose tumble of hair on the top of her head, and the careful application of eye-shadow and mascara and her lips outlined in a dusky-rose lip gloss, she looked cool and poised. But she was nowhere near as cool inside; she could not banish her suspicion of Nick’s motive from her mind.
Sighing, she turned