responded to him so instinctively—and with so little caution? She’d been so transparent, the instant physical connection between them so intense, he was sure it had to be an act. But act or not, he was still captivated. And intrigued. It was certainly a very long time since he’d felt this level of attraction. He glanced round, smiling at his own impatience, then pushed away from the column as he spotted her standing by the rest-room doors, talking into her cell phone. Not talking, pleading by the look of it. She snapped the phone closed, stuffed it into her purse, then rushed out of the back entrance of the gallery.
He was so astonished, it took him a moment to figure out that she’d left. Acting on impulse, he charged after her, snaking his way through the crowd.
Where the hell was she off to in such a hurry? He didn’t even know her name. And he wasn’t finished with her yet. Not by a long shot.
CHAPTER TWO
‘HEY, wait up.’
Eva’s head whipped round at the shout from behind her. She skidded to a halt, stumbling as she recognised the tall silhouette backlit by the light from the open doorway.
Strong fingers grasped her arm, steadying her. ‘You okay?’
The firedoor crashed shut, throwing the alleyway into shadow.
‘Yes,’ she murmured, cursing the guilty blush burning her neck. ‘Thank you. I’m not used to these heels.’
His fingers stroked down her arm, setting off a series of lightning bolts, before he let her go. ‘I always wonder why women wear those ankle-breakers.’
‘To make our legs look longer.’
He gave a gruff chuckle, the sound strangely intimate in the darkness. ‘Is that so?’ She saw his head dip as her eyes adapted to the low light. She took a staggered breath and his tantalising scent engulfed her, masking the aroma of wet pavements and disinfectant.
‘You don’t need any help on that score,’ he remarked, his voice low and amused.
She wrapped her arms around herself, the chilled autumn air not the only thing causing her goosebumps. Was he flirting with her again? Why had he followed her? And why was his attention as intoxicating as it was terrifying?
‘I suppose you’re right,’ she said. ‘Given that broken ankles are even less attractive than short legs.’
He laughed again, the rough murmur chasing the blush into her cheeks.
Stop being so literal, you muppet.
‘Where are you going?’ he asked, mercifully ignoring her pathetic attempts at conversation.
‘I…’ She choked to a stop. She didn’t have an answer. Her instinctive need to flee from him seeming even more ridiculous than her small talk. ‘I wanted some fresh air. It’s stuffy in there,’ she lied.
Unfortunately, the lie didn’t quite come off when she shivered.
‘You’re cold.’ Shrugging off his jacket, he lifted her bag off her shoulder. ‘Here.’ Warm leather surrounded her. His scent clung to the garment, and she had to purse her lips to stop from sighing.
‘Let’s go for a ride.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ she stammered, the tone of his voice making all sorts of inappropriate, but far too appealing, thoughts pop into her mind.
‘A ride.’ He buried his hands in his back pockets, hunched against the cold in the crewneck sweater and nodded down the alleyway. ‘I’ve got my bike round the corner. And I was looking for an excuse to escape myself.’
‘You mean a motorbike?’
Placing a warm palm on the small of her back, he directed her towards the end of the alleyway, subtly leading her in the direction he wanted to go. ‘It’s a great way to see the city. You’re a Londoner, right? Like me.’
‘Um, yes,’ she said, dazed by the little sizzles of electrical energy where his palm rested on her lower back.
‘So when did you arrive?’
‘I…’ She paused. She should tell him now. But her tongue seemed to get stuck in neutral again. ‘This afternoon. I’m visiting my friend Tess.’
‘The other nosey one?’
She gave a nervous laugh. ‘Yes, sorry.’
‘Don’t be,’ he said as they drew level with a monstrous black motorbike, its swirling logo and silver trim gleaming dangerously in the street lamp light. ‘I like getting talked about by beautiful women.’
‘Oh,’ she said, not sure how to take the compliment. Was he trying to be funny? She looked good tonight, but no one would mistake her for beautiful, not unless they were seriously myopic.
Unlocking the box at the back of the bike, he lifted out a helmet. ‘Put this on.’
She took the helmet without thinking. Standing dumbfounded as he mounted the huge machine with easy grace.
He glanced back at her. ‘Hop on.’
‘But I’m wearing a dress,’ she said, struggling to slow things down a little. She’d never been on a motorbike before, especially not with a man of his… Power. ‘And heels,’ she added. ‘What if I fall off?’
Placing a proprietary hand on her hip, he nudged her round to face him, took the helmet from her, and plopped it on her head. ‘You won’t.’ He tucked the tendrils of hair into the helmet with a focused concentration that had her pulse throbbing in her throat. ‘Not as long as you hold on tight.’
Fastening the helmet’s strap, he ran his thumb across her chin. The tiny touch made her shiver and her tongue slipped out of its own accord, licking lips that had gone dry as a desert.
His gaze dipped and she pressed her lips together, the buzz of anticipation almost unbearable. When his eyes lifted back to her face, she could see amusement. And a disturbing intensity.
‘Where do you want to go?’ he murmured.
Anywhere you want to take me.
She slammed down on the impulsive thought and the much more impulsive thrum of tension that had her whole body vibrating.
She shouldn’t be doing this. It wasn’t just impulsive, it was reckless—bordering on inappropriate. And she’d never done anything before that bordered on reckless, let alone inappropriate.
But maybe that was exactly the problem, she realised, as the thrum of tension refused to subside. In that split second of indecision, her whole well-ordered and completely appropriate life seemed to stretch out before her in a rolling canvas of total and extreme boredom and the impulsiveness took hold of her tongue.
‘I don’t know. You decide,’ she said, the whispered words so liberating she heard a strange sound come out of her mouth, which sounded suspiciously like a giggle.
Niccolo Delisantro chuckled back. ‘See, that wasn’t so hard,’
