would offer to get us a couple of rooms at a hotel or B and B, but we would have to drive for hours. People might see us. My manager likes it when I show up in the press. Me, though? I’m not as into the attention.”
“Being seen at a hotel with you would be complicated.” Her fingers twisted in the fabric she’d just smoothed seconds earlier.
“Very.” He knelt in front of her, careful not to touch her just yet, not when every instinct inside him shouted to kiss her, to sweep her up into his arms and carry her to the bedroom. To make love to her until they both were too sated to argue or think about the past. He wasn’t sure yet where he planned to go with those impulses. “So let me stay for dinner, and I’ll bunk on your sofa. We won’t talk about Europe tonight unless you bring it up.”
“What does your girlfriend think of your being here?”
Girlfriend? Right now he couldn’t even envision anyone except Celia. “Those damn tabloids again. I don’t have a ‘girlfriend.’ My manager planted that story to make it look like I’m settling down.”
Relationships were too messy, and more of that protective honor kept him from indulging in the groupies that flocked backstage. He “dated” women whose publicists lined up promo gigs with his publicist. As for sex, there had been women who kept things uncomplicated, women who needed anonymity and no strings as much as he did. Women as jaded about the notion of love.
“Is that why you’re really here?” Her fingers kept toying nervously with the hem of her dress, inching it higher, revealing a tantalizing extra inch of leg. “You’re between women and the timing fits?”
Something in her voice triggered warning bells in his mind. “Why is it so difficult to think I’m worried about you?”
“I just like my space. I enjoy the peace of being alone.”
“So there’s no guy in your life?” Damn it, where had that question come from?
A jealous corner of his brain.
She hesitated a second too long.
“Who?” And why the hell wasn’t the man here watching out for her?
“I’ve just gone out with the high-school principal a couple of times.”
The reports he’d gathered on her hadn’t included that. His people had let him down.
“Is it serious?” he asked, her answer too damn important.
“No.”
“Is it going to be?” He held up a hand. “I’m asking as an old friend.” Liar. His eyes went back to her legs and the curve of her knees.
“Then you can ask without that jealous tone in your voice.”
She always had been able to read him.
“Of course …” He winked. “And?”
She shrugged, absently smoothing the dress back in place again. “I don’t know.”
Exhaling hard, he rocked back on his heels. “I worked my ass off for that answer and that’s all I get?”
“Pretty much.” Hands on the arms of her chair, she pushed to her feet. “Okay. You win.”
Standing, he asked, “Win what?”
“You can stay tonight—on the sofa.”
He resisted the urge to pump his fist in victory. “I’m glad we’re in agreement.”
“You won’t be so glad when you hear what’s on the menu. I only have half a panino, barely enough for me. I was planning to shop once school finished.”
“Dinner’s on its way.” He’d remembered about that panino and had given his chauffeur instructions before he’d climbed the tree. He found the notion of an intimate dinner with Celia—discovering all the new secrets about her—stirring. “My very discreet driver will be delivering it.”
“You already assumed I would agree? You’re more arrogant than I recall.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“That’s all right.” He soaked in the sight of her brown eyes flickering with awareness, her chest lifting faster with each breath. His hands ached to touch her, to relearn the curves, to find out if she still had the same sensitive areas and discover if she had new ones, as well. “It’s for the best we don’t exchange too many pleasantries.”
She chewed the rest of the gloss off her bottom lip. “And why ever not?”
“Because honest to God,” he growled softly, his body firing with a need that hadn’t diminished one bit in nearly eighteen years apart, “I want to kiss you so damn badly it’s already all I can do to keep my hands off you.”
Each seductive word out of Malcolm’s mouth sent a thrill rippling through Celia. And not just his voice, but the strong lines of his handsome face, the breadth and power of his mature body—all man.
Teenage lust had ripened into a deeper, headier awareness. She still found him infinitely attractive, and the fact that she’d already been with him many times in the past only made that need edgier.
Dangerous.
Especially when they were only steps away from her bedroom.
She tipped her chin and steeled her will against temptation. “You used that line on me eighteen years ago. I would think your game would have improved since then. Or does being some kind of music legend make you lazy in the romance department?”
His head fell back, laughter rolling and rolling until he scrubbed his hand over his face, grinning. “As I recall, my ‘game’ was just fine with you back then.”
“Suffice it to say,” she retorted, meeting his gaze with level strength, “my standards and expectations have changed.”
“You want me to work harder.” His eyes narrowed with the challenge.
“That’s not what I meant.” Her heart stuttered over a couple of beats before she found her balance and bravado again.
“What did you mean, then?” His hand grazed the keys of the upright piano, touching without stirring a note.
She shivered as she remembered the way he’d played so carefully over her skin long ago. “I was sixteen.” She tapped out a quick tune on the other end of the keyboard, her nerves all too ready for an outlet. “Tough sell? I think not.”
“My poor ego.” He skimmed a scale.
“Sorry to have wounded you.” She mirrored his notes. How many times had they done this?
“No,
