dancing.” His gaze lingered appreciatively on her neckline.
Normally Daisy would be incensed by such blatant ogling, but tonight? She didn’t mind. “And then?”
“Then—” he glanced around the restaurant “—I was going to bring you here.”
“So we’re back on track.”
“I hope so.”
Daisy finally managed to extricate her hand from Jamie’s and leaned back, trying to work herself up into feeling angry, the way she’d felt earlier in the evening. She tried to recreate the urge to claw his eyes out, which was how she’d felt seeing him up on stage beside Tricia Gordon. But that had been Colin, not Jamie.
She should want to claw Jamie’s eyes out, too, for lying to her.
But she didn’t. Not one bit. Instead of wanting to claw his eyes out, she had the urge to run her fingernails up his bare back.
Instead of feeling angry, she had fluttery whatnots salsa dancing in her stomach and throbby do-das doing the merengue between her legs.
Her body was primed for dancing—dirty dancing—and while Daisy prepared a whole statement in her head, something like, Nice try, buddy. While I appreciate your apology, it’s going to take a hell of a lot more than that to get me to forgive you, the words stayed lodged at the back of her throat.
And then something happened to distract her from attempting to say the things she should have said. The most amazing scents wafted out of the kitchen—pesto, garlic, basil, olive oil, fire-roasted tomatoes on fresh, thin crust—as Rosa opened the door, carrying a pizza round at shoulder level. Daisy’s mouth watered, alerting her to the fact that she was starving. Maybe some food would help her gain a little rationality, too.
Because at the moment, with Jamie Forsythe’s leg pressed so intimately against hers and his insolent gaze burning her cheeks, Daisy was about to do something completely and utterly irrational.
* * *
WHY HAD HE brought Daisy here? He never brought dates to Rosa’s. This was his place.
But Jamie would do it all over again simply to watch Daisy eat. The woman certainly appreciated good pizza. Was there anything sexier than that?
Yes.
Daisy’s red dress and the black panties that were hiding underneath.
But watching Daisy eat Rosa’s specialty, the Margherita pizza, was pretty damn sexy. The slow deep breaths she took with each and every bite, consuming the food with all her senses. The way her eyes fluttered closed as she chewed, the little sounds of pleasure that escaped her—she probably had no idea she was making them.
The woman was having a love affair with his favorite pizza.
An image of Daisy’s naked body moving—no, writhing—beneath him while she made those sounds, flashed so vividly across his brain that Jamie choked on his slice.
“You okay?” she asked, covering her full mouth.
“Fine.”
Liar. He was not fine. Not one bit. This woman, whom he barely knew, had an effect on him the likes of which he’d never experienced before. The rare combination of innocence, forthrightness and sensuality she projected brought out conflicting emotions in Jamie. On the one hand, he wanted to take care of her. Protect her. Keep her away from all the dickheads in the world.
Guys like him.
On the other hand...
Dammit. He fought the urge to back her against the wall, flip up her skirt, tear off those panties and take her, right here, right now.
Hard.
Jesus. It was insane.
“Do I have sauce on my face?”
“What?” Jamie asked.
“You keep staring at me. Am I covered in sauce?” She wiped her mouth. “God, this is so good.”
“No. You’re fine.” He hoped she didn’t hear his groan. The woman was better than fine. She was—Daisy licked her lips, her tongue sweeping over the plump, pink surface of her mouth, leaving nothing but a damp sheen behind—evil, that was what she was. Licking her lips like that? Pure evil.
It took every ounce of control not to grab her chin, pull her face close and taste those lips for himself.
Claim them.
She leaned toward him wearing a frown. What the hell was she doing?
“Actually, you’ve got a little bit—” she wet her napkin with that dangerously evil tongue of hers and reached for him “—right there.” She wiped his nose. “Got it.”
The woman had just given him a spit bath and had somehow made it sexy. With her so close—oh God, he could smell her, delicious and sweet, so incredibly sweet—Jamie lost it. His hand went to the back of her head, threading through the dark curls that had fallen loose during the ride to the restaurant. He tilted her the way he wanted her and kissed her, surprising her so that her mouth parted in shock, giving him free access to her luscious warmth.
Daisy tasted better than he could have imagined. Sweet and salty, soft and wet. At first he thought she might push him away, so he held on more tightly because he wasn’t done. Not even close.
But she didn’t push him away.
Daisy went from pressing her palms flat against his chest to gripping his shoulders to finally twining her fingers around his neck, holding him just as firmly as he was holding her. If he’d been confused about the signals she had been sending, there was no confusion now. Her lips moved as enthusiastically as his. Her tongue danced willingly between their mouths, tangling indulgently with his. Beckoning him inside. A temptress he could not deny.
“All packed now and ready to go. No problem. You pay me tomorrow, okay?” Rosa’s cheerful grin was hard to focus on because Jamie’s eyes were still glazed over from the kiss.
Was it a kiss? Jamie wasn’t sure because it felt more like their mouths had just had hot, sweaty sex.
“Wow.” Daisy sat back, touching her lips, her eyes wide in disbelief.
She felt it, too? God. Jamie stood, holding out his hand for Daisy to take. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?” she asked, looking dazed.
“Home.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“And, Daisy?”
“Yes?”
He draped his jacket around her, loving the way it hung from her feminine shoulders.
Mine.
“Between here and there, you need to decide if you want me to come up.”
“I do?”
