definitely approved of her spirited conversation, and her sense of humour too.
Possibly a first for him where a woman was concerned.
Over the years Xander had fallen into the habit of dating models and actresses, visually beautiful and physically desirable women. But he hadn’t necessarily got to know them well enough to discover their personalities too. Mainly, because he hadn’t been particularly interested in knowing them that well, as long as they were beautiful to look at and satisfied him in bed. Which really wasn’t as selfishly one-sided as it sounded, because the same was true in reverse; as long as those women could be seen out and about and be photographed on the arm of the billionaire Xander Sterne, they seemed more than happy with the arrangement.
A little—a lot!—shallow of them, and him, perhaps, but the sort of wealth and power he possessed seemed to attract that type of woman.
Samantha was totally different from any of the women he had known before.
And not just because she was a divorced woman with a young daughter.
Samantha interested him in ways Xander had never even considered with any other woman. He wanted to know about her: her marriage, her husband, and her divorce. More importantly perhaps, what she had done and how she had lived in the years since that divorce.
And none of that had anything to do with the fact that he’d also like to take Samantha to bed.
Well, perhaps it had a little to do with it!
He certainly wouldn’t say no, for instance, if she were to offer to go to bed with him without first telling him any of those things. In any position she wanted.
Although, from the look of disgust she was shooting him now, he didn’t think that was even a possibility!
‘I’m good, thanks,’ Xander drawled.
Sam didn’t think this man was good at all. Impossible. Temperamental. Sexy. Wickedly outrageous. But he definitely wasn’t good.
She straightened. ‘I’ll see you in the morning, then, Mr Sterne.’
‘Oh, you can count on it, Samantha,’ he murmured as he watched her cross the room to the door before speaking again. ‘I meant to ask, do you have any tattoos?’
Sam froze halfway across the bedroom before turning slowly back to face him, her eyes wide. ‘What?’
‘Do you have any tattoos?’ he repeated as if this were a perfectly normal conversation.
Which it certainly wasn’t. ‘What does that have to do with anything?’
‘Ah ha, that means you do,’ he murmured with satisfaction. ‘If you didn’t you would have said no,’ he explained at her perplexed frown.
Sam grimaced. ‘Maybe I’m just too surprised by the question to have instantly denied it?’
‘Still not saying no, Samantha,’ he mocked, a wicked glint in his eyes as he looked her over from her head to her toes. ‘Now where would you choose to have a tattoo, I wonder?’
Sam could feel the colour once again warming her cheeks under the frankness of that gaze. ‘This really isn’t a suitable conversation, Mr Sterne.’
‘Oh, come on, Samantha, I’ve been stuck in hospital and this apartment for the past six weeks; surely you aren’t mean enough to deny me a little entertainment?’
‘The puppy-dog look doesn’t look so good on you,’ Sam assured him cuttingly.
‘Then answer the question! Sorry.’ He scowled darkly. ‘I’m just—’ He ran a frustrated hand through the thickness of his blond hair. ‘You aren’t seeing me at my best.’
‘No?’ Sam wasn’t sure she could cope with seeing this man at his best.
‘No,’ he confirmed heavily. ‘I was just— What’s wrong with telling me where you have your tattoo?’
‘Goodnight, Mr Sterne.’ Sam turned towards the door.
‘Is it on your breast?’
Sam faltered slightly but managed to keep on walking.
‘Your shoulder?’
Why did the door suddenly seem so far away?
‘Maybe your deliciously rounded bottom?’
Sam’s hand shook slightly as she was finally close enough to reach out to take hold of the door handle.
‘Or maybe it’s at the top of your thigh where only a lover would see it?’
Sam quickly pulled the handle down and opened the door.
‘Now the thought of that is definitely going to keep me awake long into the night!’ Xander murmured.
‘Goodnight, Mr Sterne,’ she repeated firmly before stepping out into the hallway, closing the door behind her before leaning weakly back against it, able to hear Xander’s soft laughter echo from behind it.
The man was impossible. Worse than impossible!
And the tiny tattoo on the top slope of her left breast seemed to throb as much at the moment as it had on the day she’d had it done five years ago.
* * *
‘How do you like your toast, Daisy?’ Xander frowned across the kitchen at the little girl as she sat at the breakfast bar in her pyjamas, her hair a glorious tangle of red curls about her slender shoulders. ‘I can do lightly golden or burnt?’
‘Burnt, please,’ she answered politely.
Xander had been the only one up when he’d come to the kitchen a short time ago, but that hadn’t lasted for long. Daisy had appeared shyly in the doorway just a few minutes later, obviously having heard someone moving about in the kitchen, and no doubt assuming it was her mother.
Xander’s first reaction was to panic. To wonder if he was up to dealing with her, or if he should just go and get Samantha.
What if Daisy spilt some juice and he lost it? What if she dropped cereal or jam on the breakfast bar, and his violent temper made another unwanted appearance?
The rage he had felt that night in the Midas nightclub had been frightening enough, but Xander knew he would never forgive himself if he verbally or physically hurt a child. As he had been hurt by his father.
After staring blankly at Daisy for several minutes Xander had forced down the panic, decided not to go and wake Samantha, but to instead test himself and offer Daisy the same breakfast he was having.
So far it was going reasonably well. He had tried to smile as he poured Daisy some juice, and his voice had remained reasonably calm when he offered to make her some toast along with his own.
He usually didn’t eat breakfast at all, preferring to grab a quick cup of coffee, but he was making an exception by eating a slice of toast this morning, unsure of when he would be able to eat again.
