The Price Of Desire: The Price of Success / The Cost of Her Innocence / Not For Sale. JACQUELINE BAIRD
weakened.
Throw in the fruitless soul-searching she’d done into the wee hours, and the resultant sleep-deprivation, and who knew what would come of out her mouth next?
He shoved a forceful hand through his hair. ‘Dios, this has nothing to do with your contract. If you were mine to take I’d have no reservations. None. The things I would do to you. With you.’
He named a few.
Her mouth dropped open.
Lust singed the air, its fumes thick and heavy. Her fingers clenched around her mug. Silently, desperately, she willed it away. But her body wasn’t prepared to heed her. Underneath her T-shirt her nipples reacted to his words, tightening into painful, needy buds.
‘Wow! That’s … um … super, super-naughty.’
Hazel eyes snapped pure fire at her. ‘And that’s just for starters,’ he rasped.
Her breath strangled in her chest.
In another life, at another time …
No! Even in a parallel universe having anything to do with Marco would be bad news.
‘I hear a but somewhere in there. Either you still think I’m poison or it’s something else. Tell me. I can take it.’
He gave a jerky nod of his head in a move she was becoming familiar with. ‘Last night, at the awards, you spoke of Rafael like a friend.’
‘Because that’s what he is. Just a friend.’
His jaw clenched. ‘You’re asking me to take your word over my brother’s?’
‘Not really. I’m saying give us both the benefit of the doubt. See where it takes you.’
He shook his head. ‘As long as Rafael sees you as his there can be nothing between us.’
Despite the steaming coffee in her hand, she felt a chill spread through her. ‘The message has been received, loud and clear. Was there something else?’
For a full minute he didn’t answer. Then, ‘I don’t want you to think that the kiss has bought you any special privileges.’
‘You mean like expecting you to bring me coffee every morning?’ she replied sarcastically, a surprisingly acute pain scouring its acidic path through her belly.
‘My expectations from you as a driver haven’t changed. In fact nothing has changed. Understood?’
Setting down her mug on the bedside table, she hugged her knees. ‘All this angst over a simple kiss, Marco?’ The need to reduce the kiss to an inconsequential blip burned through her, despite her body’s insistence on reliving it.
He prowled to the window and turned to face her. ‘Women have a habit of reading more into a situation than there actually is.’ His raised hand killed her response. ‘While taking pains to state the contrary. But I want to be very clear—I don’t do relationships.’
Her breath fractured in her lungs. ‘I’m not looking for one,’ she forced out.
His whole body stiffened. ‘Then it stands to reason that there shouldn’t be a problem.’
She hugged her knees tighter. ‘Again I sense a but.’
‘But … for some reason you’re all I think about.’
The statement was delivered with joyless candour. Yet her heart leapt like a puppet whose string had been jerked. And when his eyes met hers and she saw the heat in them something inside her melted.
He strode back towards the bed, shoving clenched fists into his pockets. She stared up at him, her pulse racing. ‘And you’re annoyed about that?’
His gaze raked her face slowly. Then slid to her neck, her breasts, and back up again. Molten heat burned in his eyes. ‘Livid. Frustrated. Puzzled. Intensely aroused.’
Of their own volition her eyes dropped below his belt-line. Confronted with the evidence, she felt a deep longing melt between her legs. She swallowed as heat poured through her whole being.
Looking away, she muttered, ‘Don’t do that.’
A strained sound escaped his throat. ‘I was just about to demand the same of you.’
‘I’m not doing anything. You, on the other hand—you’re …’ She sucked in a desperate breath.
‘I’m what?’ he demanded, his voice low, ferocious.
‘You’re all brooding and … and fierce … and angry … and … aroused. You’re cursing your desire for me and yet your eyes are promising all sorts of rampant steaminess.’ Her eyes darted back to the bulge in his trousers and a lump clogged her throat.
‘I … I think you should leave.’
‘You don’t sound very sure about that.’
‘I am. I don’t want you. And even if I did you’re off-limits to me, remember? So you can’t … can’t present me with … this!’
A pulse jerked in his jaw. ‘I never said the situation wasn’t without complications.’
‘Well, the solution is easy. You hired me to do a job so let me get on with it. We don’t have to see each other until the season ends and we win the Constructors’ Championship. We’ll stand on the top podium and douse ourselves in champagne. Then we’ll go our separate ways until next season starts.’
‘And you will have fulfilled this promise you made?’
Surprise zapped through her. He remembered. ‘Partly, yes,’ she replied, before thinking better of it.
His gaze turned speculative. ‘To whom did you make the promise?’
She dragged her eyes from his, the sudden need to spill everything shocking her with its intensity. But she couldn’t. Marco didn’t trust her. And she wasn’t prepared to trust him with the sacred memory of her father.
She shook her head. ‘It’s none of your business. Are you going to leave me alone to get on with it?’
His mouth firmed into a hard line. ‘The team has too much riding on this for me to take my eye off the ball at this juncture. So do our sponsors. Once you have proved yourself—’
‘Yes, I’ve heard it all before.’ She couldn’t stop the bitterness from spilling out. ‘Prove myself. Don’t bewitch anyone on the team. Especially not the boss. Message received and understood. Perhaps you could take your frustrations elsewhere, then, and spare me the thwarted lust backlash?’
He stiffened with anger. ‘Dios. Has no one ever told you that the difference between attractive feistiness and maddening shrew is one bitchy comment too many?’
‘No one has dared,’ she threw back.
‘Well, take it from me. You need to stop throwing blind punches and learn to pick your fights.’ He strode towards the door. ‘Romano will drive you to your appointment and bring you back here.’
‘That’s not necessary. I’ve hired a scooter.’
He whirled to face her. ‘No. Romano will drive you.’ His tone brooked no argument.
‘Seriously, Marco, you need to dial back the caveman stuff—’
‘And you need to take greater responsibility for your welfare. If you come off your scooter and break an arm or a leg the rest of the season is finished. I thought you wanted the drive? Or do you think you’re invincible on those little piles of junk you like to travel on?’
She bit back a heated retort. Marco was right. All her hard work and sacrifice would amount to nothing if she couldn’t ensure she turned up to her races with her bones intact.
‘Fine.