“naturally”? Why would you even care that I was in hospital? You’re not my next of kin.’
Frustrated that she would question what had been a natural decision to him, Damon raked his hand through his hair. ‘Your father is absent and clearly you couldn’t be left to cope with something like that alone.’
‘I deal with things on my own all the time. And, frankly, from the way you’ve been speaking to me all day I was under the distinct impression that given half a chance you’d put me in the hospital yourself. Are you telling me that you abandoned your date because you heard I was hurt?’
‘I didn’t “abandon” her,’ Damon breathed. ‘I arranged for her to be driven home.’
‘But you deprived her of the pleasure of your company and the promise of bedroom athletics. Wow.’ Her mouth tilted into a crooked smile. ‘Poor her.’
Ignoring her flippant tone, Damon lifted a hand and touched the side of her head. ‘What the hell happened?’
‘They jostled me and I lost my balance and fell into a camera. It had hard edges. But I’m fine. It was kind of you to check on me, but I can get myself home.’ She tried to dodge past him and he caught her arms in tight grip. Her body brushed against his and the subtle scent of her perfume wound itself around his senses.
He gritted his teeth, wondering why control was such an effort when he was with her. ‘You cannot travel on the underground and you’re not supposed to be sleeping alone tonight.’
‘Are you volunteering to sleep with me?’ She gave an awkward laugh. ‘I wish you could see your face. Relax. I know you’d rather cuddle up with a bed bug than have me in your sheets.’
Damon, who had a disturbingly clear idea of what he’d do to her if she were in his sheets, ignored that comment. ‘Why did you discharge yourself?’
‘I have to go to Paris tomorrow and I still have some ideas to finish off.’
‘Obviously you won’t now be going to Paris in the morning.’ Damon drew her towards him as a group of passers-by jostled them.
‘Yes, I will.’
‘If your father were here, he’d stop you going.’
She didn’t look at him. ‘No, he wouldn’t. I make my own decisions about what I do, and I’m going to Paris.’ Twisting herself out of his grip, she turned and carried on walking towards the underground station.
Never having encountered anyone quite as stubborn as Polly, Damon stood for a moment, his emotions veering between exasperation and concern. Clearly she wasn’t prepared to listen to reason so what was he supposed to do? Fling her over his shoulder?
Noticing two men staring hard at her legs, Damon decided that wasn’t a bad idea. In four strides he caught up with her. ‘Why is it so important that you get to Paris tomorrow? Are you sleeping with the client or something?’
A choked sound came from her throat and she stopped dead. ‘You really do have a high opinion of me, don’t you?’
Heat crawled up the back of his neck. ‘I know Gérard. Like most Frenchmen, he appreciates a beautiful woman. And you are arriving nine hours before your meeting.’
‘Which naturally means I’m leaving plenty of time for afternoon sex before we move from bedroom to boardroom, is that it?’ Ignoring the flow of people around them, she fixed those blue eyes on him. ‘Make up your mind. This morning you told me I looked like a flamingo and now you think I’ve turned into a femme fatale? Or does a bruised head suddenly make you feel all protective and macho or something?’
He wasn’t sure what he was feeling and Damon certainly didn’t need her to question behaviour that he was already questioning himself. ‘I’m just asking myself what makes this meeting so important that you’d discharge yourself from hospital against medical advice.’
‘Everybody’s jobs are under threat. He’s a new client and I work in the service industry!’ Hauling her bag more firmly onto her shoulder, she glared at a man who brushed past her. ‘And before you make another insensitive remark, not that sort of service industry.’ She turned away again but this time Damon shot out a hand and halted her escape.
‘You are intentionally misunderstanding everything I say to you.’
‘There is another interpretation for the phrase “you look like a flamingo”?’
‘I was commenting on the inappropriateness of your dress. I never said you weren’t beautiful.’ The words launched themselves from some unidentified part of his brain and his own shock mirrored the confusion he saw in her eyes. He released her immediately, disconcerted by the lethal sexual charge that seemed to power every contact, no matter how small. ‘Look—you can’t be on your own tonight and any minute now the press waiting in the hospital will realised you’ve legged it out of the back door. Get in the car before you’re mobbed for a second time.’
‘I don’t need a lift. And I have to go back to my house to get my things for the meeting tomorrow.’
‘I’m trying to help you.’
‘And I’m trying to tell you that I don’t need help. I handle things myself. I always have.’
‘Well, tonight I’m handling them.’ Damon held out his hand. ‘Give me your keys. Franco will drop us and then go on to your house to get whatever it is you need. You can make him a list in the car. I’ll decide if you’re well enough to go to Paris in the morning. Until then you’ll stay in the penthouse. If you’d done that the first time you wouldn’t be in this mess now.’
There was a stunned silence and then she gave a strangled laugh. ‘Do you always take control?’
‘When the situation demands it, yes.’
‘So you’re inviting me to stay at your place?’ Her eyes glinted a beautiful sapphire blue. ‘Aren’t you afraid I’ll throw a wild party? Sully the place with my wanton ways? You know me—I can’t resist any opportunity to indulge in men and alcohol.’
He ignored her reference to the incident at school. ‘Hopefully a bang on the head will quell your intrinsic desire to cause havoc. I’ll take the risk.’ Even as he said the words, part of him was wondering what the hell he was doing creating a situation where they’d be in close contact.
‘I appreciate the gesture, but I’m fine. I’m used to looking out for myself.’ She added that last observation in a gruff little voice that made him wonder exactly what role her father had played in her life.
Damon was about to probe further when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. ‘We have company. Let’s move.’
With that, Damon scooped her up and deposited her in the back seat of the limo, slamming the door shut just seconds before the press pack descended. ‘Drive.’
Polly had conflicting emotions as she stepped out of the car in the underground car park of the Doukakis Tower. Smarting at being literally dumped in the car, but relieved at having escaped the hungry press pack, she eyed the high security steel doors that had closed behind them. ‘The place is like a fortress.’
‘It
