Fiancee for One Night (8 page)

He nodded, his busy fingers hard at work on the other nipple, adding his hot mouth to the mix, guaranteeing the result. ‘The goddess returns to the sea only to find the pirate lurking in the depths, waiting to ambush her.’

‘That’s a long title.’

‘It’s a long chapter,’ he said, rolling off the bed and scooping her up into his arms. ‘In which case, we should get started.’

An hour later Eve had bubbles up to her chin and warm jets massaging all those newly found muscles of hers she hadn’t realised would so appreciate the attention. From the bedroom came the sound of Leo’s voice on the phone as he arranged her car. In a moment she’d have to prise herself from the bath and shower off the bubbles but for the moment she lingered, her limbs heavy, feeling languorous and spoilt and thoroughly, thoroughly spent.

It was easy to feel spoilt here, she thought, quietly reflecting on her opulent surroundings, committing them to memory as part of the experience. For if the size and scale of the suites had amazed her, the sheer lavishness of the bathroom had taken her breath away.

Marble in muted tones of sun-ripened wheat and golden honey lined the floor and walls, the lighting low and warm and inviting, the spa and shower enclosure—a space as big as her entire bathroom at home—separated from the long marble vanity by heavy glass doors. It was utterly, utterly decadent.

And if there hadn’t been enough bubbles, he’d found champagne and ripe, red strawberries to go with it. He’d turned what she’d intended simply as a shower into another erotic fantasy.

What a night. Three chapters of his book, all of them different, every one of them a complete fantasy. If chapter one had been desperate and frenetic, and chapter two slow to the point of torture, chapter three had showed the pirate at his most playfully erotic best. The slip of oils on skin, the play of the jets on naked flesh and the sheer fun of discovering what lay beneath the foam.

She closed her eyes, allowing herself just a few snatched seconds of imagining what it would be like if this was her life, all posh hotels with views of city lights and an attentive lover like Leo to make her feel the most special woman alive, with no worries about broken-down appliances and falling-down houses.

But then there was Sam.

And she felt guilty for even thinking of a world that didn’t include him—that couldn’t include him. For Sam was her life, whereas this was a fantasy that had no other course but to end and end soon.

She slipped under the water one last time, letting her hair fan out around her head, relishing the big wide bath, before she sat up, the water sluicing from her body. No regrets, she told herself as she squeezed the water from her hair, she wouldn’t allow it. She’d made her choice. She would live with it. And whatever happened in her life after this, whatever her everyday suburban life might hold, she knew she would have this one secret night of passion to look back on.

‘The car will be waiting in half an hour,’ Leo said, returning to the bathroom, a white towel slung perilously low over his hips, and even though she knew what lay beneath, even though she knew what that line of dark hair leading down from his navel led so tantalisingly and inexorably to, she couldn’t look away.
Or maybe because of it
. ‘Will that give you enough time for that shower you wanted and get dressed?’

And even though she knew this moment was coming, Eve still felt a pang, the fabric of her fantasy starting to unravel, as already she started counting down the minutes. Just thirty of them to go before she turned from one-night lover to a billionaire into long-term single
mother. But there was nothing else for it. She nodded. ‘Plenty of time,’ she said.

He offered her his hand rather than the towel she would have preferred and she hesitated, before realising that after the things they’d done together this night, there was no point in being coy. So she rose, taking his hand to prevent her slipping as she stepped out, and taking half the foam with her. Something about the way his body stilled alerted her. She was taller than him now, standing in the raised bath like this, and his eyes drank her in. ‘What is it?’ she said, looking down to see patches of foam sliding down her body and clinging to her breasts, the pink nub of one nipple peeping through. And she looked back to him to see him shaking his head, his dark eyes hot and heavy with desire. ‘Suddenly I’m not so sure it will be anywhere near enough time.’

Something sizzled in her veins, even while her mind said no. ‘You can’t be serious.’

He gave a wry smile as he reached out to brush the offending nipple with the pad of one finger, sending tremors through her sensitive flesh, and he smoothed away more of the suds to reveal patches of skin, piece by agonising piece. ‘It’s still early.’

‘Leo,’ she said, ignoring the pleas her body was making to stay right where she was and stepping out to snap on the shower taps before she could take his words seriously. A torrent rained down from the cloudburst showerhead and she stepped into it, determined to be rid of the bubbles regardless of the water temperature. ‘It’s three o’clock in the morning. I’m going home.’

He peeled the towel from his hips, turned on his own shower. ‘We have all night.’

‘No. I have to go.’ She turned her face away from the sight of his thickening member and up into the stream
of water, relishing the drenching. It was cooler than she would normally prefer, but it was helping to clear her mind, helping cool her body down. And very definitely she needed to cool down. What kind of man could make love so many times in one night and still come back for more? When had fantasy ever collided so perfectly with reality? Well, that was apart from the reality she would no doubt be exhausted tomorrow while Sam would be his usual bundle of energy.
To day
, she reminded herself. He’d be up in a few short hours. She really needed to get home if she was to get any sleep tonight. ‘Besides, you have an important deal to close.’

‘So maybe I can give you a call, pick you up afterwards?’

Her heart skipped a beat and she paused, soap in hand, feeling only the pounding of the cascading water, the thudding of her heart and the flutter of those damned tiny wings. Without turning around, she said, ‘I thought you were planning on leaving for London the minute you concluded the Culshaw deal.’

His mouth found her shoulder, his arms wrapping around her belly, and there was no missing that growing part of him pressing against her back, no missing the rush of blood to tissues already tender. And even though she knew his words meant nothing, nothing more anyway than him wanting a repeat performance in bed, it was impossible not to lean her head back against his shoulder just one last sweet time. ‘I don’t think that would be wise.’ She turned off the water and peeled herself away, reaching for a towel as she exited the shower. ‘We both agreed this was just one night. And while it’s been good, I think, given our working relationship, that it’s better left that way.’

‘Only good?’ he demanded, and she rolled her eyes.

Trust the man to home in on the least important detail of the conversation. He followed her from the stall, swiping his own towel from the rack and lashing it around his hips, not bothering to wipe the beads of water from his skin so that his chest hair formed scrolls like an ancient tattoo down his chest to his belly and below.

Oh, my…

She squeezed her eyes shut. Grabbed another towel and covered her head with it, rubbing her hair frantically so she couldn’t see him, even if she opened her eyes. ‘All right. The sex was great. Fabulous.’

The towel blinding her eyes was no defence against the electric touch of his fingers at her shoulders. ‘Then why shouldn’t we meet again? It’s not as if I’m asking for some long-term commitment.’

That’s just it, she yearned to say. There’s no future in it. There’s nothing but great sex and the longer that happens, the greater the risk that I start to believe it’s about more than that, and I can’t afford to let that happen.

Not when she had Sam
…

One night of sin was one thing. But she could not contemplate any kind of affair. What Sam needed was stability, not his mother embarking on a series of meaningless one-night stands, passing him off to whoever could look after him. She shook her head, heading for the bedroom, her clothes and a return to sanity. ‘I can’t sleep with you and work with you at the same time.’

‘So become my mistress instead of my PA.’

She blinked, blindsided once again by the night’s increasingly insane developments, pulling on her underwear in a rush, slipping off the towel to fix her bra, needing the shelter of her dress.

‘Are you kidding?’

‘You’re right,’ he said, without a hint of irony. ‘Who could I get to replace you? So why can’t you be both?’

‘Perfect.’ She slipped into her dress, retrieved her stockings and sat on the end of the bed, hastily rolling them up her legs. ‘I thought you’d never ask. And when you get sick of me being your mistress, you can get me to send myself one of those trinkets you’re so fond of sending to your ex-playmates. I already know where to send it. How efficient would that be?’

‘Evelyn?’

She was busy in her purse, searching for a comb in order to slick back and twist up her wet hair and not finding one. ‘What?’

‘Anyone might think you were jealous.’

‘Jealous? Me?’ She scooted past him back into the bathroom. Pulled a comb from the complimentary supplies boxed up on the vanity, raking it through her hair before twisting it up and securing it with a clip. It was rough but it would do until she got home. She certainly wasn’t going to hang around here, styling her hair or trying to reapply make-up that would just have to come off at home anyway. ‘Jealous of what?’

He leaned an arm up against the door, muscles pulling tight under his skin, making the most of the posture, and she cursed the fact he hadn’t thought to put on anything more than a towel yet. Or maybe that was his intention. To remind her what she’d be missing out on. Well, tough. After tonight she knew what she’d be missing out on. Of course, he was tempting, but there came a time where self-preservation came first.

‘You did make a point about having to send out those gifts to…my friends.’

‘Your ex-lovers, you mean.’

‘You
are
jealous.’

She shrugged. ‘No. I’ve had my one night with you. Why should I be jealous?’

‘Well, something’s bugging you. What is it?’

She turned toward him then, wishing she could just walk away, sensitive to the fact that she could still be at risk of losing her contract if she angered him but still bothered enough by the riddle that was Leo Zamos to ask. ‘You really want to know?’

‘Tell me.’

‘Okay,’ she started, her eyes taking this last opportunity to drink in the glorious definition of his body, wanting to imprint all she could upon her memory before she left, because after tonight her memories would be all she had. ‘What I don’t understand is you.’

He laughed, a rich, deep sound she discovered she liked too much. ‘What’s so hard to understand?’

‘Everything. You’re confident and successful and ultra-rich—you have your own plane, for heaven’s sake!—and you’re a passionate lover and clearly have no trouble finding women willing to share your bed…’ She paused for a moment, wondering if she’d said enough, wondering if she added that he was drop-dead gorgeous and had a body that turned a woman’s thoughts to carnal acts, she would be saying more about herself than about him.

He smiled. ‘That’s it? I’m not actually sure where your problem lies.’

‘No, that’s not it. You know there’s more. People are drawn to you, Leo, you know it. And it’s just that, with everything you have going for you, I don’t understand how it can be that when you feel the need to play happy families, you have to pay someone to pretend to be your fiancée.’

‘You would have done it for free?’ He gave a wry smile. ‘I’ll remember that for next time.’

‘No!’ she said, knowing she was making a hash of it, knowing he was laughing at her. ‘That’s not my point at all. I just don’t understand why you’re in the situation where you need to pretend. How is it that a man with clearly such great appeal to women hasn’t got a wife or a fiancée or even a serious girlfriend? How is that possible?’

The smile slipped as he pushed away from the wall, moving closer, the menacing glint in his eyes putting her on sudden alert. ‘Maybe,’ he said, drawing near, touching his fingers to her brow, tracing a line south, ‘it’s because there is no lack of women willing to share my bed. What is that delightful saying? Why buy a book when you can join a library?’

She stood stock-still, resisting the tremors set off by his merest touch, hating the smug look on his face, forcing a smile to hers. ‘Well, the loan on this particular book just expired. Goodnight, Leo.’

He let her go, at least as far as the door.

‘Evelyn.’

She halted, put her hand on the doorframe to stop herself swaying, and without turning around said, ‘Yes?’

‘Something I tell all the women I spend time with. Something I thought you might have understood, although, given your questions, maybe you need to hear it too.’

She looked over her shoulder, curious about what it was he told his ‘women’, what he thought she needed to hear. ‘Yes?’

‘I like women. I like sex. But that’s where it starts and finishes. Because I don’t do family. It’s not going to happen.’

This time she took a step towards him, stunned by his sheer arrogance. ‘You think I was on some kind of fishing expedition to work out what my chances were of becoming Mrs Leo Zamos for real?’

‘You were the one asking the questions.’

‘And I also said I don’t want to see you again. Which part of “I don’t want to see you again” equates to “Please marry me” exactly?’

‘I was just saying—’

‘And I’m saying you needn’t have bothered. I’m not in the market for a husband as it happens, but even if I were, I’m certain I’d prefer someone who didn’t profess to liking women and sex quite so much!’ She turned on her heel and strode through the bedroom, slipping on her heels and picking up her purse, scanning the room for anything she might have left.