almost to her waist.
And leaving Rafe in absolutely no doubt that she was a woman.
Rafe’s preference in women had always been towards pocket-sized blondes, but as he saw the rueful amusement—at his expense—in those moss-green eyes, the slightly mocking curve to those lushly full lips, evidence, no doubt, that Nina Palitov found his discomfort amusing, he knew that he would enjoy nothing more at this moment than to take this beautiful woman in his arms before kissing that amusement from the sweet curve of those lush and pouting lips.
A move on his part that would no doubt cause those two muscle-bound sentinels to move with lightning speed in her defence.
Nina eyed Raphael D’Angelo beneath lowered lashes, knowing, by the glance he briefly gave at Rich and Andy as they stood behind her, that he had now realised helping to move display cases wasn’t their only reason for being at the Archangel gallery.
She had been surrounded by the same bodyguards for most of her life, had grown so accustomed to having at least two of them watch over her day and night that she rarely noticed they were there any more. She now treated the eight men who made up her security detail more like friends than people employed by her father to ensure her safety.
Which was a sad reflection on what her life had become, Nina realised with a frown.
Admittedly her father was a wealthy and powerful man, and Nina knew better than most that with that wealth and power came enemies. But she had often thought wistfully of how nice it would be to be able to do as other people her age did, and just pop out to collect the newspaper or a carton of milk in the mornings, or a takeaway for dinner from a fast-food restaurant, or share a fun evening out with several girlfriends, without her bodyguards having to check out the venue first.
Or maybe go out for a date with an arrogant and decadently handsome man with the face of a fallen angel.
And exactly where had that ridiculous thought come from?
The long years of her father’s protection meant that Nina was usually extremely shy when it came to talking to men; she certainly never had erotic fantasies about them the first time she met them!
She frowned up at Raphael D’Angelo, a man who could never be considered as being anything other than an arrogant and decadently handsome man with the face of a fallen angel.
‘I have a lot to do here today, Mr D’Angelo,’ she told him, hiding her shyness behind the briskness of her tone. ‘So if there was nothing else?’
Rafe knew when he was being dismissed. And he also knew when he didn’t like it!
He was in charge of the New York gallery at the moment, and it was time that Miss Nina Palitov and those muscle-bound goons standing behind her were made aware of that fact.
‘There are a few things I would like to discuss with you first, if you would care to accompany me up to my office on the third floor?’
The blinking of those long dark lashes was the only evidence that she was surprised by his request. No doubt Daddy’s money and power ensured that Miss Nina Palitov rarely, if ever, acceded to anyone’s request for her to do anything.
Her expression was wistful as she gave a predictable shake of her head, causing that long cascade of fiery red hair to shimmer like a living flame in the sunlight pouring in through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind her.
‘I obviously don’t have time at the moment. Perhaps later on this morning?’
Rafe’s mouth tightened.
‘I have several other appointments to deal with today.’ But none, he knew, that Michael, at least, wouldn’t expect him to cancel in favour of meeting with Dmitri Palitov’s daughter, whenever it was convenient for her.
But Michael wasn’t here right now, Rafe was, and—
Hell, just admit it, Rafe—the reason you’re so damned irritated is because Nina Palitov is utterly gorgeous. And under other circumstances, in a different location—the two of them naked together in a silk-sheeted bed came to mind—he might even enjoy the challenge she represented, both sexually and to his authority.
But they weren’t in a bed, that lush mouth wasn’t his for the taking, and when it came to Archangel he was the one in charge.
She shrugged dismissively. ‘In that case, I’m afraid the discussion will have to wait until tomorrow.’
Rafe took a step closer to her, only to find that the two men standing behind Nina Palitov took that same step forward, flanking her closely now as they both watched him between narrowed eyes.
‘Call off your watchdogs,’ he advised harshly.
She eyed him frowningly for several long seconds before slowly turning her head to look at the two men. ‘I’m sure Mr D’Angelo poses absolutely no threat to me,’ she assured them wryly before turning back to once again look challengingly at Rafe.
As if she believed his wealth and power also rendered him over-indulged and wimpish, a man who wouldn’t stand a chance against these two muscle-bound men if they were to take exception to something he said or did.
Admittedly, the two of them together might be pushing it a bit, but Rafe had no doubts that in a one-on-one fight his hours at the gym, and his training in several of the martial arts, would ensure he could best either one of these two men, whether they chose to fight dirty or fair—and their threatening poses indicated it would probably be the former.
He forced the tension from his shoulders as he gave a deliberately wolfish smile as his appreciative gaze swept slowly over Nina Palitov.
‘Oh, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I posed absolutely no threat to you, Miss Palitov,’ he purred softly, his tone deliberately provocative.
Those beautiful moss-green eyes widened noticeably, a delicate blush creeping into her peaches-and-cream cheeks, and succeeding in making the endearing freckles on the bridge of her nose appear more prominent. At the same time her tongue flicked out nervously to moisten the lushness of those delectably plump lips. Lips that had no need for lip gloss to enhance their fullness or deliciously peach colour.
Those lips thinned now, as if Nina Palitov was well aware that Rafe was playing with her, and she didn’t appreciate it.
‘Would eleven o’clock be convenient to you, Mr D’Angelo?’ she bit out huskily.
‘I’ll make sure that it is,’ he drawled softly.
Nina was very aware that somewhere during the course of this exchange Raphael D’Angelo had taken control of the conversation—and her? His air of lazy confidence and power implied that he preferred always to be in control.
Even when he was in bed with a woman?
Nina felt the colour warm her cheeks for a second time in as many minutes as she realised that Raphael D’Angelo was responsible for bringing those totally inappropriate thoughts into her head.
Why were they so inappropriate?
She was twenty-four years old, with a slender figure, and the way men looked at her told her she wasn’t unattractive. And Raphael D’Angelo was dangerously, overwhelmingly handsome in a swarthily
