and hoping to deter anyone from approaching him while he waited for the Woman in Red’s return.
She’d captivated him, which was surprising in itself. He didn’t appreciate being watched or whispered about, and he’d spotted her and her friend doing exactly that. But there was something about the way she had peered at him, with none of the usual calculation or confidence he had come to expect from the women that approached him. And then when he’d got a better look at her, his senses had kicked into overdrive like those of a hormonally charged teenager.
He kept his lids closed, picturing her, and tried to determine the trigger. Creamy, translucent skin? Wide blue eyes so dark they were almost violet? The flutter of her pulse visible in the graceful arch of her collarbone? Russet curls that had escaped the mass of hair artfully piled on her head? The swell of her breasts revealed by the plunging neckline of her gown? Thefresh, simple scent of soap and spring flowers? The crisp, precise London accent that he hadn’t heard in years?
Any one of those things could have turned him on. He was a guy after all. But still, she wasn’t conventionally beautiful: not particularly tall; her eyes had been maybe too big, she had a slight overbite and her forthright observations about his character had unsettled him. Even though they could only have been a lucky guess.
Weird? There was no explaining the ferocity of attraction. Not really. Except maybe…?
He opened his eyes, found himself shifting round to look at the doors to the rest room.
And realised that by far the most captivating thing about her had been her unguarded response. Her breathing had quickened, her pupils dilating wildly as soon as she stopped in front of him. The truth was he’d always been jaded where women were concerned. Even as a boy. Once he’d grown up, he found himself craving sex as much as any man, but for him it had never been more than a physical release. And as a result in the last few years, ever since The Deadly Touch had made him one of the hottest properties in Hollywood, he’d developed a cynicism about the women he dated that meant while sex was satisfying, it had become less and less exciting.
He knew precisely which buttons to press to get the response from women he wanted. Butwhen was the last time a woman had responded to him so instinctively—and with so little caution? She’d been so transparent, the instant physical connection between them so intense, he was sure it had to be an act. But act or not, he was still captivated. And intrigued. It was certainly a very long time since he’d felt this level of attraction. He glanced round, smiling at his own impatience, then pushed away from the column as he spotted her standing by the rest-room doors, talking into her cell phone. Not talking, pleading by the look of it. She snapped the phone closed, stuffed it into her purse, then rushed out of the back entrance of the gallery.
He was so astonished, it took him a moment to figure out that she’d left. Acting on impulse, he charged after her, snaking his way through the crowd.
Where the hell was she off to in such a hurry? He didn’t even know her name. And he wasn’t finished with her yet. Not by a long shot.
CHAPTER TWO
‘H EY , wait up.’
Eva’s head whipped round at the shout from behind her. She skidded to a halt, stumbling as she recognised the tall silhouette backlit by the light from the open doorway.
Strong fingers grasped her arm, steadying her. ‘You okay?’
The firedoor crashed shut, throwing the alleyway into shadow.
‘Yes,’ she murmured, cursing the guilty blush burning her neck. ‘Thank you. I’m not used to these heels.’
His fingers stroked down her arm, setting off a series of lightning bolts, before he let her go. ‘ I always wonder why women wear those ankle-breakers.’
‘To make our legs look longer.’
He gave a gruff chuckle, the sound strangely intimate in the darkness. ‘Is that so?’ She saw his
She’d captivated him, which was surprising in itself. He didn’t appreciate being watched or whispered about, and he’d spotted her and her friend doing exactly that. But there was something about the way she had peered at him, with none of the usual calculation or confidence he had come to expect from the women that approached him. And then when he’d got a better look at her, his senses had kicked into overdrive like those of a hormonally charged teenager.
He kept his lids closed, picturing her, and tried to determine the trigger. Creamy, translucent skin? Wide blue eyes so dark they were almost violet? The flutter of her pulse visible in the graceful arch of her collarbone? Russet curls that had escaped the mass of hair artfully piled on her head? The swell of her breasts revealed by the plunging neckline of her gown? Thefresh, simple scent of soap and spring flowers? The crisp, precise London accent that he hadn’t heard in years?
Any one of those things could have turned him on. He was a guy after all. But still, she wasn’t conventionally beautiful: not particularly tall; her eyes had been maybe too big, she had a slight overbite and her forthright observations about his character had unsettled him. Even though they could only have been a lucky guess.
Weird? There was no explaining the ferocity of attraction. Not really. Except maybe…?
He opened his eyes, found himself shifting round to look at the doors to the rest room.
And realised that by far the most captivating thing about her had been her unguarded response. Her breathing had quickened, her pupils dilating wildly as soon as she stopped in front of him. The truth was he’d always been jaded where women were concerned. Even as a boy. Once he’d grown up, he found himself craving sex as much as any man, but for him it had never been more than a physical release. And as a result in the last few years, ever since The Deadly Touch had made him one of the hottest properties in Hollywood, he’d developed a cynicism about the women he dated that meant while sex was satisfying, it had become less and less exciting.
He knew precisely which buttons to press to get the response from women he wanted. Butwhen was the last time a woman had responded to him so instinctively—and with so little caution? She’d been so transparent, the instant physical connection between them so intense, he was sure it had to be an act. But act or not, he was still captivated. And intrigued. It was certainly a very long time since he’d felt this level of attraction. He glanced round, smiling at his own impatience, then pushed away from the column as he spotted her standing by the rest-room doors, talking into her cell phone. Not talking, pleading by the look of it. She snapped the phone closed, stuffed it into her purse, then rushed out of the back entrance of the gallery.
He was so astonished, it took him a moment to figure out that she’d left. Acting on impulse, he charged after her, snaking his way through the crowd.
Where the hell was she off to in such a hurry? He didn’t even know her name. And he wasn’t finished with her yet. Not by a long shot.
CHAPTER TWO
‘H EY , wait up.’
Eva’s head whipped round at the shout from behind her. She skidded to a halt, stumbling as she recognised the tall silhouette backlit by the light from the open doorway.
Strong fingers grasped her arm, steadying her. ‘You okay?’
The firedoor crashed shut, throwing the alleyway into shadow.
‘Yes,’ she murmured, cursing the guilty blush burning her neck. ‘Thank you. I’m not used to these heels.’
His fingers stroked down her arm, setting off a series of lightning bolts, before he let her go. ‘ I always wonder why women wear those ankle-breakers.’
‘To make our legs look longer.’
He gave a gruff chuckle, the sound strangely intimate in the darkness. ‘Is that so?’ She saw his
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