The Price of Success (12 page)

His gaze zeroed in on her. ‘I wrapped things up early.’

‘And you couldn’t find anyone in your little black book to spend the evening with?’

The thought that he hadn’t gone out and vented his sexual frustration on some entirely willing female sent a bolt of elation through her, which she tried—unsuccessfully—to smash down.

She couldn’t read the hooded look in his eyes as he set aside the gadget.

‘It’s only seven-thirty. The night is still young,’ he replied.

Something crumpled into a small, tight knot inside her, and the sharp pang she’d felt that morning returned. ‘That’s just typical. You’re going to call some poor woman out of the blue and
expect her to be ready to drop everything to go out with you, aren’t you?’ she mocked.

One corner of his mouth quirked. ‘Luckily, the women I know are kind enough to
want
to drop everything for me.’

She snorted. ‘Come off it. We both know kindness has nothing to do with it.’

As she’d seen first-hand at the awards ceremony, women would crawl over hot coals to be with Marco. And many more would do so regardless of his financial status or influence. With a body and face like his, he could be penniless and still attract women with a snap of his fingers. As for that lethal, rarely seen smile, and the way he kissed—

Her thoughts screeched to a halt as he stood and came towards her.

‘Maybe not,’ he conceded, with not a hint of arrogance in sight. ‘How was the shoot?’

The question wrenched her from her avid scrutiny of his body. ‘Aside from the free shoes, it was a pain in the ass,’ she replied.

‘Of course,’ he agreed gravely. Then without warning he reached out and plucked the pictures from her fingers. ‘Maybe you’ll even get around to wearing them instead of going barefoot or wearing those hideous boots—’

He stopped speaking as he stared at the pictures. Awareness crawled across her skin as he slowly thumbed through them, lingering over the one where she was draped over the bonnet of the not-yet-released prototype of his latest car, the Cervantes Triunfo. Eventually he returned to
that
one. And looked as if he’d stopped breathing.

‘Marco …’

She stretched out her hand to retrieve the pictures. He ignored her, his attention fixed on the picture, his skin drawn tight over the chiselled bones of his face.

‘Marco, I don’t want to keep you. I have plans of my own.’

His head snapped up. ‘What plans?’ he demanded, his tone rough and tight.

Sasha couldn’t think how to answer. Her whole mind was
paralysed by the way his eyes blazed. Shaking her head, she tried to turn away. He grabbed her arm in a firm hold.

No! Too hot. Too irresistible. Too much
.

‘Let me go,’ she murmured, her voice scraped raw with desire.

‘What plans?’ he gritted out.

‘Are you sure you want to know? You may not approve.’

His hand tightened on her arm, his eyes darkening into storm clouds that threatened thunder and lightning. ‘Then think carefully before you speak.’

She sighed. ‘Fine. You’ve busted me. I was going to beg your chef to make me that T-bone steak and salad he made for us yesterday, followed by chocolate caramel delight for dessert—I’ll think about the calories later. Afterwards I intend to have a sweltering foursome with Joel, LuAnn and Logan.’

The hand that had started to relax suddenly tightened, harder than before.

‘Excuse me?’
Marco bit out, his voice a thin blade of ice slicing across her skin.

Reaching into the handbag slung over her shoulder, she pulled out the boxed set of her favourite TV vampire show.

He released her and reached for it. After scrutinising it, he threw it down onto the sofa along with the pictures.

‘Take a piece of advice for free,
pequeña
. It’s a mistake to keep goading me. The consequences will be greater than you ever bargained for.’ His voice was soft. Deadly soft.

Sasha felt a shiver go through her. Most people mistakenly assumed partaking in one of the most dangerous sports in the world meant X1 Premier Racing drivers were fearless. Sasha wasn’t fearless. She had a healthy amount of fear and respect for her profession. She knew when to accelerate, when to pull back the throttle, when to pull over and abandon her car.

Right now the look on Marco’s face warned her she was skidding close to danger. She heeded the warning. Lashing out because of the maelstrom of emotions roiling inside her would most likely result in far worse consequences than she’d endured with Derek.

‘Understood. Let me go.’

Surprise at her easy capitulation lit his eyes. Abruptly he released her.

‘I need a shower. I guess you’ll be gone when I come out. Enjoy your evening.’

Shamelessly, she fled.

Marco watched her go, frustration and bewilderment fighting a messy battle inside him.

He prided himself on knowing and understanding women. After Angelique, his determination never to be caught out again had decreed it. Women liked to think they were complicated creatures, but when it came down to it their needs were basic, no matter how much they tried to hide it. Hell, some—like Angelique—even spelled it out.

‘I want fame, Marco. I want excitement! I can’t be with a man who’s a has-been.’

The memory slid in, reminding him why he now ensured the women he associated with knew there was no rosy future in store for them and had no surprises waiting to trap him.

A reality devoid of surprises suited him just fine.

His eyes followed Sasha’s tall, slim figure down the hallway.

She surprised him, he admitted reluctantly. She also infuriated him. She made his blood boil in a way that was so basic,
so … sexual
—even without the benefit of those pictures …

Dios!
With a growl, he whirled towards the window. When he’d gone to her room to set things straight this morning the last thing he’d expected was for her to reassure him that it had been no big deal.

Despite being totally into the kiss—as much as he’d been—she’d walked away from him last night. A situation he’d never encountered before.

Was it because she didn’t really want him? Or was she merely waiting for his brother to wake up so she could resume where they’d left off?

Acid burned through his stomach at the thought. But even the corrosive effect couldn’t wash away the underlying sexual need that seared him.

He’d rushed through his meeting with every intention of calling one of the many willing female acquaintances on his BlackBerry. But once he’d returned, his need to go out again had waned. He withdrew from examining why too closely.

He turned back from the window and his eyes fell on the pictures on the sofa. To the one of her draped all over his car …

Blindly he stumbled towards his jacket and dug around for his phone. Two minutes later reservations were made. By the time his Rolls collected him from the foyer, Sasha Fleming had been consigned to the furthest corner of his mind.

Marco stood outside the door ninety minutes later, caught himself listening for sounds from inside, and grimaced in disbelief. He’d spent the last hour or so wining and dining a woman whose name he couldn’t now remember.

He’d stared at his date’s in-your-face scarlet lips and thought of another set of lips. Plump, freshly licked lips, captured in perfect celluloid. Lips that had responded to his kiss in a way that had sent the most potent pulse of excitement through him.

Forbidden lips
.

In the end he’d thrown down his napkin and extracted several large notes. ‘You’ll have to forgive me. I’m terrible company tonight. I shouldn’t have disturbed your evening.’

The practised pout had reappeared. ‘You know I’ll forgive you anything, Marco.’

Candy? Candice? had leaned forward in another carefully calculated pose, designed to showcase her body to its best advantage.

‘Listen, I have an idea. I know how much you like your coffee. When I was filming in Brazil last month I absolutely fell in love with the coffee and brought some back with me. Why don’t we skip dessert and go back to my place and I’ll give you a taste?’

Barely containing rising distaste, he’d shaken his head. ‘Sorry, I’ll take a rain check.’

He’d led her out amid soft protests and further throaty promises of the delights of her cafetière. But coffee, or sex with Candy/Candice had been the last thing on his mind.

His sudden hunger for chocolate caramel had become overpowering.

‘Take my car. I’ll walk,’ he’d said.

And now here he stood, skulking outside his own apartment like a hormonal teenager on his first date.

He entered and approached the living room.

She was curled up on the sofa, a bowl of popcorn in her lap. Her head snapped towards him. As if she’d been listening out for him too. The thought pleased him more than it should have.

The striking blue of her eyes paralysed him.

‘You’re still awake.’
Excelente, Marco. First prize for stating the obvious
.

She blinked. ‘It’s only nine-fifteen.’ Her eyes followed him as he shrugged off his jacket and dropped it on the sofa. When her gaze lingered on his chest he felt the blood surge stronger than before.

He watched her fingers dance through the bowl of popcorn, the movement curiously erotic. His heart hammered harder. ‘You didn’t have the chocolate caramel after all?’

‘Charlie’s disapproving face haunted me. Popcorn is healthier.’ She looked away. ‘So, how was your date?’ she asked, her voice husky.

He wrenched his gaze from her fingers. ‘You really want to know?’

Her sensual lips firmed and she shook her head.

The need to gauge her true feelings drew him closer. ‘Jealous?’

She inhaled sharply. ‘I thought we weren’t doing this?’

His eyes fell to her lips. ‘Maybe I’ve changed my mind.’

‘Well, change it back. Nothing has changed since this morning. I can’t handle your … baggage. And I don’t want a relationship. Of any sort.’

Marco opened his mouth to tell her he didn’t want anything from her either. But he knew he was lying. His very presence in this room belied that.

Forbidden or not, he wanted her with a compulsive need that unnerved and baffled him. But the fact that he wanted her didn’t
mean he would have her. He was known for his legendary control. He sat down next to her, caught her scent, and simply willed himself not to react.

Forcing his body to relax, he nodded towards the television. ‘You have a thing for vampires?’

‘Doesn’t everyone?’ she replied breathlessly.

He wanted to look at her. But he denied himself the urge and kept his gaze fixed ahead. ‘What’s the story about?’

She hesitated, fidgeted and sat forward. From the corner of his eye he saw her lick her lips. Fiery heat sang through his veins.

‘Oh, you know—it’s the usual run-of-the-mill storyline. Two brothers in love with the same girl.’

Something tightened in his chest and his stomach muscles clenched. ‘I see.’

‘You don’t have to watch it.’ She shifted backwards, out of his periphery.

‘Why not? I’m intrigued.’ The two male protagonists faced off on the screen, fangs bared. ‘What are they doing now?’

Again she hesitated. ‘They’re about to fight to the death for her.’

His muscles pulled tighter. Blood surged through his veins and he forcibly relaxed the clenched fist on his thigh.

‘Which one are you rooting for?’ he asked, the skin on his nape curiously tight as he waited for her answer.

It occurred to him how absurd the conversation was. How absurd it was to be so wound up by a TV show. But every second he waited for her answer felt like an eternity.

‘Neither.’

Illogically, his insides hollowed. ‘You don’t care if either one of them dies?’ The words grated his throat.

‘That’s not what I said. I said neither because I know they won’t kill each other. They might tear chunks out of each other, but ultimately they love each other too much to let a woman come between them. No matter how difficult, or how heart-wrenching it is to watch, I know they’ll work it out. That’s why I love the show. Popcorn?’

The bowl appeared in front of him.

He declined and nodded at the screen as a female character walked on. ‘Is she the one?’

Sasha laughed. ‘Yep. LuAnn—
femme fatale extraordinaire
. With those huge brown eyes and that body she can have any man she wants. On
and
off the screen.’

‘She may look innocent onscreen but off-screen is another matter.’

It was her gasp that did it. That and her scent, mingled with the strangely enticing aroma of popcorn.

Control failed and his eyes met Sasha’s stunning blue. Marco wondered if she knew how enthralling they were. How captivating. How very easily she could give LuAnn a run for her money.

‘You’ve met her?’

‘Briefly. At one of Rafael’s parties.’

Her eyes returned to the screen. ‘As much as I’m dying to know the details of your no-doubt salacious meeting, I don’t really want the illusion spoiled. Do you mind?’

Again Marco was struck by Sasha’s contrast to the other women he’d dated. They would have been bowled over by his mention of a celebrity, dying to know every single detail. Her refreshingly indifferent attitude made him relax a little more.

When he found himself munching on popcorn another bolt of surprise shot through him.

When was the last time he’d relaxed completely like this? Shared an enjoyable evening with a woman that hadn’t ended in sex if he’d wanted it to?

He glanced at Sasha. Her eyes were glued to the screen, her lower lip caught between her teeth. Heat ratcheted through him. Correction—an evening that wasn’t going to end in sex because sex was forbidden?

He reached for another mouthful of popcorn and his hand brushed hers. Her breath caught but she didn’t look away from the screen. When he reluctantly forced his gaze away from her, he saw LuAnn caught in a heated clinch with Joel.

As a thirty-five-year-old man, who knew that sex onscreen was simulated, he shouldn’t have found the scene erotic. Especially not with those damned fangs thrown in.