style="font-size:15px;"> Luiz momentarily lost his train of thought as he looked at the soft and generous bow of her mouth. Her lips were still glossy from a recent coating of lipgloss, making them look even more luscious and tempting. He could smell the flowery scent she wore, a mixture of gardenia and honeysuckle that teased his nostrils and made him think of sultry summer nights. ‘How much did you have to drink?’ he asked.
‘Hardly anything. I’m not a big drinker. I talk too much when I have wine. I guess that’s why it’s called truth serum, huh? In vino veritas. That’s Latin, by the way. The truth is in the wine.’ She gave him another megawatt smile. ‘That’s why I stuck to vodka. One shot with orange juice and I didn’t even get to finish it because I was too busy dancing. Did you see me? It was awesome. I’ve never been able to do the Macarena before.’
Luiz felt like a parent handling a wayward teenager after a night out on the town. ‘Do you have your room key with you?’
She fished around in her purse, her brow doing that little crinkly thing again, her teeth embedded in her lower lip. After a fruitless search she dropped her purse and reached inside the left hand cup of her bra and handed him a card key with another broad smile. ‘I knew I put it somewhere safe.’
Luiz could feel the heat of her breast on the card. His fingers moved over its surface in a stroking manner as he locked gazes with her. ‘This card isn’t from this hotel. Do you know which one you’re staying at?’
She wrinkled her nose like a child refusing to eat spinach. ‘I don’t want to go there. This is much nicer.’
‘Do you know where you are? What floor you’re on?’
She gave him a vampish look, batting her impossibly long eyelashes coquettishly. ‘I’m on your floor.’
He ignored the wanton come-on in her gaze on principle. He could have any woman he wanted. He didn’t have to resort to drunk or stoned ones. He might be considered an irascible rake but even he had some standards. ‘Listen, querida, you need to lie flat in a dark room until you sober up.’
She pushed her lush mouth out in a pout. ‘I’m not drunk. Look, I can walk in a straight line.’ She tottered off along the corridor, arms out wide to stabilise her passage. She turned and came back towards him but the fourth step was her undoing. Her legs suddenly tangled and she came down in a heap and would have fallen badly if not for him catching her in time.
He gathered her slim body in his arms, trying not to notice the sweet cinnamon of her breath on his face as she snuggled up close with her arms flung around his neck. ‘I’m soooo tired…’ She gave a huge yawn and dropped her head against the wall of his chest and closed her eyes with a soft little sigh.
He gave her a gentle shake. ‘Hey, you didn’t tell me your name.’
She made another soft purring sound and burrowed closer to his chest. ‘Need to sleep now…’
Luiz caught sight of himself carrying his rescued damsel in one of the gilt mirrors hanging above the hall table. Her shiny shoulder-length hair was swaying loose in a soft cloud over one of his arms, tickling the skin where he had rolled back the cuffs of his shirt. Her conservative black dress had ridden up, revealing slim legs and thoroughbred-narrow ankles, and a soft dreamy smile curved her mouth as her cheek settled against the steady beat of his heart as if she had finally found home.
He let out a low rough expletive. ‘Now what, Sir Galahad?’
DAISY WOKE WITH a construction site hammering inside her head. Her mouth felt as if she had been sucking on a gym sock all night and her stomach was churning so fast it could have spat out pats of butter.
She cranked open one eye to find herself in a plush penthouse suite instead of her budget book-three-nights-get-one-free hotel room. Chandeliers dripped from the high ceiling in a waterfall of sparkling and twinkling crystal. The walls were papered in a luxurious satin-embossed two-toned stripe that was unapologetically masculine and yet opulently stylish. The lighting was softly muted but she could see a sliver of bright sunlight through the gap in the brocade curtains, suggesting it was well past dawn. The acre of carpet looked so thick she was sure if she took one step on it she would be knee-deep. Maybe neck-deep. The pillows behind her were as soft as clouds and the sheets that covered her naked body were super-fine Egyptian cotton.
Her stomach swooped. Naked body? She lifted the sheet and peeked beneath it. Eek! She’d had sex with someone? No. Not possible. Not in a million squillion years. She was not the type of girl to go to bed with a stranger. She hadn’t even gone to bed with a friend. Flirting was one thing. Sharing her body with someone was something else again. But why on earth would she be naked in bed if she hadn’t?
No. No. No.
Surely she hadn’t. Had she? She pressed her legs together. Nope. Doesn’t feel any different. She checked her breasts for any love bites. Scrambled up onto her knees to glance in the mirror to see if her neck had any signs of foreplay.
Nothing.
The door of the bedroom opened and Daisy choked out a shocked gasp and quickly cupped her hands over her breasts as Luiz Valquez with his laughing black eyes entered the room. ‘You?’
He gave a mock formal bow. ‘At your service, mi pasión.’
His…passion? Double eek! Daisy dived under the sheets, pulling them right up to her chin. Oh, dear God. What had she done? Or, more to the point… What had he done? Anger came to her rescue, filling her voice with fulminating rage. ‘Where are my clothes?’
The half-smile that tilted his mouth had a glint of devilry about it. ‘Where you left them.’
Her eyes widened in horror. Had he—gulp—stripped her? Stolen her clothes? Was she to be sold into sex slavery? Never to be heard from again? Where was her damn bodyguard when she needed him? She threw Luiz a combative glare, determined not to show how terrified she was. ‘I won’t let you get away with this. You don’t know who you’re dealing with. I have connections that could wipe the floor with you.’
He had the gall to chuckle. ‘You mean those two travelling companions of yours?’
Daisy felt her flesh shrink on her bones. Oh, dear Lord. What if Belinda and Kate had been kidnapped as well? Were all three of them to be shipped off to some ghastly foreign hellhole where disgusting men would paw and slaver over them? She could already see the headlines. Three London Infant Teachers: Tragic Victims of International Sex Slave Ring. ‘Wh-what about them?’
His dark eyes gave nothing away other than amusement. ‘They weren’t the least bit interested in coming to your rescue.’
She narrowed her gaze to slits. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I asked them to fetch you from my suite last night but they refused.’
Daisy shot him a look of pure venom. ‘I don’t believe you. They would never leave me to fend for myself.’ Hmm, maybe Belinda would. ‘Anyway, how did you contact them? You didn’t have their numbers or names.’
He inspected his square and
