She didn’t fool herself that it was more than sex—for either of them. He’d wanted to possess her body and he had. She’d wanted him to make love to her, and that was the reason she was feeling fulfilled. Nothing more. It was only about sex. Good sex, admittedly.
All paid for and delivered, she reminded herself, making a half-choked sound as she looked down at the check in her hands. She still couldn’t believe she’d given her body to a man for a million dollars. Her father would be horrified. She was horrified.
Yet, to be honest, Jarrod hadn’t made her feel as if she’d sold her body to him. And that was totally crazy. Any other man would have made her feel cheap.
What was she going to tell her father about the money she’d suddenly acquired? She’d found it lying around in an old bank account? No, too far-fetched. Only Howard Blackstone had kept money in old, “secret” accounts, she mused cynically.
Then the answer came to her. The check was one of Jarrod’s, so she would tell her father she’d asked Jarrod for a loan to buy more property. Yes, that was it! Her father probably wouldn’t think anything out of the ordinary, not with Jarrod being a Hammond, and with Marise being married to Jarrod’s brother.
Of course, loan or not, she still had to pay the money back. She just hoped to high heaven that Blackstone Diamonds wanted to continue their contract with her.
And if she couldn’t pay it back? No, she wouldn’t think about being beholden to Jarrod any longer than necessary. As it was, he had started to boss her around already, telling her to stay in bed and take a nap, buying her clothes, telling her to wait in the room until he got back, expecting she’d go to lunch with him.
Did that mean he expected her to do everything he asked? Would he expect her to be at his beck and call for the next three weeks?
She was no man’s plaything. Not even for a million dollars, she told herself as she pushed aside a sense of trepidation and asked herself what to do next. Oh, she’d keep her word to spend the next three weeks with him, and she’d no doubt enjoy some of it. But she wasn’t about to wait around this hotel room for him to return. If he wanted to take her to lunch, then she’d leave him a note and go home to her apartment until he called. She certainly wasn’t chasing him. If necessary, she’d meet him at the restaurant.
And she would still be a woman of her word, she decided, throwing back the sheet and pushing her naked body out of bed.
Of course, as soon as her doorbell buzzed, Briana knew who it would be. Despite having a doorman who was harder to get past than a crocodile, somehow Jarrod had managed it.
And now he stood there, looking like a man should look—handsome, confident, charismatic—sending her pulse racing into overdrive. She had no idea how much she’d been wanting to see him until this moment. Correction, how much her body had wanted to see him.
“You left your new clothes behind,” he drawled, empty-handed.
“I don’t need you to buy me clothes,” she said coolly as she turned into her apartment, only to find herself twirled back toward him.
Without warning, he kissed her. For heart-stopping seconds she tried to hold something of herself back, but he deepened the kiss. When a faint groan escaped from his throat, she slid into meltdown. Her lips parted.
Just as suddenly he let her go. “Not so cool, eh?” he murmured.
She forced her head to clear. “Talking about yourself?” she challenged.
“Talking about both of us.”
The nerves in her stomach tightened and she quickly turned into the living room. “How much did you pay the doorman to let you in?”
“He happens to be the father of a friend.”
She picked up her purse from the sofa and shot him a look of disbelief. “My, that’s quite a coincidence.”
He held her gaze. “Yes, it is.”
She realized he was serious. Either way, she needed to have some discreet words with the doorman.
“Don’t try and get him fired,” Jarrod warned.
“Who said anything about getting him fired?” she said in astonishment.
“Oh, I don’t know. There’s a certain look of revenge in your eyes.”
A smirk coated her lips. “That isn’t for the doorman.”
He gave a husky chuckle, taking her unawares. She wished he’d stop doing that. It was one thing knowing he was enigmatic, quite another to see his more human side. It was best she keep her distance.
She mentally straightened her shoulders. “I’m ready.”
His gaze traveled down over her outfit. “I can see why you prefer your own clothes.”
She glanced down at her sleeveless, slimline knit dress in vivid marigold, the material lightly rouched at the waist and harmonizing with her hips. It was sexy and flattering and she felt good in it, especially when she combined it with delicate high-heeled sandals in the same color. And heavens, she needed every bit of confidence she could find right now.
She looked back up at Jarrod. “Actually this was a gift from someone.”
A cynical look entered his eyes. “A male, no doubt?”
Ah, so they were back to that again. He thought she had conned every man she’d ever met out of something or other.
“Who else?” she retorted, walking toward him. One of the designers had given it to her after a fashion shoot, but she’d let Jarrod think what he liked. It’s what he wanted to think anyway.
Yet he frowned as she preceded him out of the apartment, and he was still frowning when she closed her door behind them. She hid a small burst of satisfaction. Good. Let him be the unsettled one for a change, even if she had no idea why. It would be too much to ask that he might think he was actually wrong about her.
Her inner poise restored, she headed toward the elevator. “Where are we having lunch?”
“Southbank.”
She inclined her head. “Lovely.” Lunch at a riverside restaurant would at least surround them with a multitude of people and would take an hour or two out of their day. She dare not think beyond that.
Only, once he’d parked his BMW Coupe in an underground car park in the city center and they rode up the elevator, she realized he was taking her to one of the top hotel restaurants, rather than one of the many places alongside the Yarra River.
Pity it wasn’t as crowded as she wanted, she mused as the waiter walked them through luxurious surroundings and seated them at a table for two overlooking the river.
The picturesque city views beyond the glass gave a feeling of spaciousness that would have been delightful if she’d been with anyone else. In Jarrod’s company, not even watching the slow-moving riverboats and the strolling couples along the promenade below could put her at ease. The world was still out there but it was hard to notice when she was seated intimately with a man who was now her lover and who intended to remain her lover for three more weeks.
“So,” he said, leaning back in his chair once the waiter had departed after taking their order, “tell me about Briana Davenport.”
“Read my bio,” she quipped, leaning back in her chair, too, pretending to be relaxed.
A corner of his mouth twitched upward. “I want to know about Briana Davenport, the person. Not Briana, the model.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Same thing.”
“No, different.” He tilted his head, considering her with a slight frown. “I’m just not sure how yet.”
“Don’t