to me,” he said, shaking his head.
“I get to you?” For some reason, that made her stomach leap.
“In the worst way,” he replied seriously.
Veronica frowned. “I’m not sure that’s very flattering.”
He picked up her hand where it rested on her lap, threaded his fingers through hers. Her pulse shot into overdrive. Her core throbbed with need for him, her body tightening painfully. When he lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them, a shiver rocketed through her.
“Raj …”
“I want to spread you out on silken sheets, Veronica,” he said, his voice pitched for her ears alone. “I want to lick you everywhere, kiss you, thrust into your body.”
She closed her eyes. “I can’t take this. Don’t talk to me like this.”
“I want to take you hard, soft, slow, fast. I want to take you often. And I want you to wear those damn thigh-high boots you’ve got on while I do it.”
Veronica was drowning in need and frustration. “Stop,” she choked out. A few rows away, Martine looked up at Veronica’s cry, met her gaze. Just as quickly she turned away again, a red flush spreading across her cheeks.
Veronica wanted to tell Martine it was okay, but she couldn’t speak. Because at the moment Raj drew one of her fingers into his mouth, sucked it in and out so slowly as fingers of fire raced along her nerve endings. She bit her lip to stop a moan. He kissed her palm, then leaned forward and took her mouth in a hard, sensual kiss.
She didn’t care who saw them. She cupped his jaw, kissed him back with all the passion and fire he aroused in her. If they were alone, she’d have him undressed and inside her before the next few moments passed.
“Now what do you think?” he whispered in her ear. “Flattered or not?”
“Yes,” she breathed, heart racing. Martine was engrossed in a magazine now, and Veronica took another sip of her cocktail while Raj leaned back on the seat and shot her the most sexy grin imaginable.
“I’m hard for you,” he said. “Another minute of that and I’d be lifting that Barbie-doll-pink dress and to hell with everyone else.”
“Another minute of that and I’d let you,” she replied. And then she laughed. “Barbie-doll pink? How do you know that, Raj?”
“How else? Barbie was my favorite doll,” he said—and then he winked as she gaped at him.
“You say things like that just to make me laugh.”
He shrugged. “Sometimes.” Then he picked up her hand again, threaded their fingers together. “My mom moved us around a lot when I was growing up. One of the things I remember, when I was about eight I think, was this little girl in my class. She was blonde, like you, and she had these enormous pigtails. She was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen, and she carried a pink backpack with a Barbie face on it.”
“You must have liked her.”
“I did.”
She thought of him as a love-struck little boy and smiled. “So what happened? Did you write one of those notes to her where you asked her to circle ‘yes’ or ‘no’?” she teased.
“No. But she did invite me to her birthday party. I remember the invitation was pink, with Barbie dolls on it.”
“Was the party pink-themed, too?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I never got to go. We moved again.”
She imagined the disappointment he must have felt when he couldn’t go to the party. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to go.”
“I probably wouldn’t have liked it anyway. There’d have been a pink cake, no doubt, and pink balloons everywhere.
And what if I’d been the only boy invited?” He gave a mock shudder.
“The horrors,” she agreed. And then she sighed. “At least you got to go places. I never did.”
She thought of her vast bedroom with the purple walls, the piles of toys and the utter loneliness that had so often assailed her. She’d had a nanny, but even Mrs. Petit couldn’t completely fill the emptiness created by the vacuum her father had placed her in. A vacuum made all the worse by the fact they’d had a normal life until her mother had died in the accident.
Veronica had spent the past several years of her life trying to fill that emptiness; it’d gotten her nothing but heartbreak.
“One thing I’ve learned in this life,” he said, “is that the grass always looks greener on the other side of the fence—though it usually isn’t.”
“Maybe so,” she said. “But sometimes it just might be.”
“It does no good to think like that, Veronica. It only leads to regrets. And they might be false regrets.”
She turned to look out the window. They were over water now, winging their way toward the island of Aliz in the Mediterranean. “I have enough regrets to last me a lifetime.”
She could feel the weight of his stare on her, but she didn’t turn. Tears were suddenly pressing against the backs of her eyes. Stupid, stupid tears. If she looked at him, she wasn’t sure she could stop them from falling.
But why? What was it about him that made her want to unburden her soul to him every damn time?
She sucked in a breath, nibbled on her thumbnail. So quickly, she’d grown to trust him. So quickly, she’d grown to care about him. And she still knew next to nothing about him.
“You can cry if you need to,” he said, so softly that she almost didn’t hear.
How did he know? She turned to face him again, resolutely burying the tears and forcing herself to smile.
“Not at all,” she replied. “I was just thinking.”
He didn’t look convinced. “It’s a long trip, Veronica,” he finally said. “Why don’t you rest?”
“Nonsense. It’s only a couple more hours. And we really should discuss what happens when we arrive.” She had to concentrate on that, on the moment the plane landed and she set foot on her home soil again. She’d only been gone two weeks, and she’d set in motion much that would be ruined if she didn’t quickly get this situation under control.
Giancarlo Zarella would never agree to build a resort in Aliz if they couldn’t maintain the rule of law.
Raj’s eyes sparked. “There’s nothing to discuss,” he said. “I’ll handle it.”
Veronica blinked. “You’ll handle it? Handle what? I think we should at least discuss the possibilities.”
“No,” he said, his voice harder than it had been only moments ago.
A current of anger swirled in her belly. “No? I’m not a
