Behind him the elevator doors stood open. Quentin waited within, shoulders back, legs wide, expression carefully blank.
“Dami, what—?”
He didn’t let her finish. “Good night, Luce.”
And then he turned and walked away from her, leaving her standing there staring after him in disbelief.
Damien stepped onto the elevator and turned to find Lucy right behind him.
“Oh, no you don’t.” She got on beside him.
He gave her his weariest glance. “It’s late.”
“Oh, stop. It’s barely midnight.” She reached over and pushed the button for his floor. The doors closed.
He longed to punch the button to open them again. But then what? Scoop her up and carry her bodily back to her door?
And what if she still refused to stay put?
And all right, yes. He was being a jerk. He knew it. He just didn’t want to talk about Susie. Leaving Lucy at her door had seemed a way to avoid an uncomfortable conversation.
So much for that.
He maintained absolute silence for the short ride up. Lucy did, too, just as she had during the drive from the party. He found her silence both annoying and unnerving. After all, Lucy was never quiet. He’d always thought her incapable of keeping her mouth shut for long.
Apparently, he’d got that wrong.
When the elevator stopped, Quentin exited first. He and Lucy followed, side by side but not touching. Quentin dealt with the alarm, opened the door and went in ahead.
“Thank you, Quentin. That’s all for the night.”
The bodyguard mounted the stairs for his room above. Damien shut and locked the door.
Lucy set her bag on the entry table and unbuttoned her coat. He took it and hung it, along with his, in the closet by the door. Her dress that night was snug and black, with a lace top that dipped low in back to a V shape. She looked unbearably sweet in it, good enough to eat.
He wanted to kiss her, to run his finger down her back, tracing that V. He wanted to take her straight to bed. However, her level gaze and set expression told him clearly that lovemaking wasn’t happening anytime soon.
Then again, maybe he’d get lucky and she’d let him change her mind.
He did what he wanted to do, stepping in close, touching his finger to the nape of her neck, trailing it out along her shoulder to the outer edge of the V. Her skin seemed to beckon him. He needed his mouth on her.
So he took what he needed, kissing the tempting spot where the lace started at the curve of her shoulder while continuing the slow caress with the tip of his finger down to the middle of her smooth back.
She sighed. For a moment, he thought she would melt into his arms.
But then she drew herself up and turned to face him. Her eyes challenged him. “Make me some cocoa, please, Dami.”
“Cocoa.” He arched a brow, made his expression one of boredom and complete disinterest.
She wasn’t buying. “That’s what I said. Cocoa, please.”
With a curt nod and no expression, he signaled her ahead of him into the kitchen area. She took one of the tall chairs at the peninsula and leaned her chin on her fist as he went through the process of heating the milk and chopping the chocolate.
He thought how he should send her back to her apartment now. He should end this foolishness tonight before it went any further. She was too good, too sweet, too innocent for him. He should tell her he’d been wrong to come here, that he was leaving in the morning.
And then he should check into a hotel, go to those damned meetings Monday and Tuesday and then fly back to Montedoro where he belonged.
As he chopped and stirred, he kept expecting her to start asking him questions.
But again she surprised him. She held her peace until he put the steaming cup in front of her. Then she sipped and said, “So good. Thank you.” She set the cup down. “Tell me about Susie.”
“That’s a bad idea.”
“Tell me anyway.”
He poured himself a cup and took the chair beside her. “You won’t like it.”
“Maybe not. But I want to know.”
“What, exactly, do you want to know?”
She studied his face for several seconds. He endured that scrutiny. And then she asked, “How do you know her?”
“You’re serious? You actually want to hear about Susie?”
“Didn’t I just say so?”
“Luce. I’ve had conversations like this one with women before. They never go well.”
She tipped her head to the side, considering. Then she simply tried again. “I am not blaming you. I am not looking for some way to make you the bad guy. I’m only trying to understand who Susie is to you.”
“Why do you need to understand that?”
“Because you were going to leave me at my door and walk away in order not to have to talk about it.” Damn. Was he that obvious? Apparently, he was. To her. She said, “So I think we need to clear that crap up right now. Tell me about Susie.”
“There’s nothing to tell. I hardly know her.”
“Then this won’t take long at all, will it?”
He opened his mouth to give her more evasions—and somehow the simple truth fell out. “I met her at a party very much like the one tonight. It was about three years ago. Here in New York. I think it was in SoHo. She had a girlfriend with her....”
Lucy had her chin on her hand again. “So it was the three of you?”
“That’s right. The girlfriend had a loft a few blocks from the party. I spent the night there with them. And the next time I came to New York, I called Susie. There was another girlfriend that time.”
“Is that...something you enjoy, Dami? Being with two women at once?”
He felt pinned, grilled. He struck back. “Why? Would you like to try it?”
She picked up her cup again. “I don’t think so.” Very carefully, she sipped and with equal care set the cup down. And then her sweet mouth trembled. She pressed her lips together to make the trembling stop and asked him hesitantly, “Do I...have this all wrong?”
“What are you talking about?” He growled the words.
Her gaze roamed his face as though seeking a point of entry. A small pained sound escaped her. Finally, she asked, “I mean, should I have let you go, stayed downstairs when you tried to get rid of me?”
All he had to do was say yes—and she would leave him, stop pushing him for answers to uncomfortable questions. But the lie stuck in his throat. “Why didn’t you?”
“I told you. It seemed like we really needed to talk this through, so I kept after you. But now... Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to follow you up here. You seem so angry, so defensive. Maybe I’m just butting in where I’m not wanted. Do you want me to go?” She waited for him to speak. When he didn’t, she said, “All right, then. I can take a hint.” Shifting away, she started to slide down from the chair.
He couldn’t bear it. He caught her shoulder. “No.” It came out ragged sounding. Raw. “I