Constance wants nothing to do with Luca. But a poorly timed paparazzi photo lands her in the middle of a media nightmare, and Luca is her only way out. He proposes an idea that will help them both—be his fiancée to gain him some respectability and he’ll make a huge donation to her organization…and save her reputation.
But when their lie starts feeling like the truth, and the chemistry just won’t stop, they have a hard time separating what’s real and what’s fantasy…
She didn’t budge an inch, even when he stepped so close to her only a breath of air separated them. Instead, she looked up at him, one eyebrow cocked.
“I can’t quite figure out why you continue to feel it necessary to invade my personal space. Do you have a hard time hearing or seeing me from a respectable distance? Maybe Joseph needs to make you an appointment for some glasses. Or a hearing aid.”
He chuckled, the thrill of the chase running through him. He leaned closer until she was forced to take a step back. Right up against the wall. “I like being in your personal space.”
She tried to frown but the expression didn’t quite make it all the way. “Well, I don’t like it.”
“Now, that’s not true.” He placed one hand on the wall next to her head and lifted the other to draw a finger down her cheek. “Why do you blush every time I come near you then?”
“It’s ninety degrees out and you keep insisting on forcing your body heat on me. It’s not desire; it’s heat stroke,” she said, raising her pert little chin in the air.
His finger trailed down the column of her neck, skimming over the pulse beating furiously beneath her skin. He leaned in even closer, his lips hovering near her ear. “Why is your blood racing?”
“Because you’re making me angry,” she retorted, with a voice not quite as steady as it had been.
“Hmm.” His fingers stroked along her collarbone and she shivered. What he wouldn’t love to do to this woman. “I think you’re lying…to me and yourself.”
“I don’t care what you think.”
“That’s not true, either.”
She glared at him. “You don’t know me, Mr. Vasilakis. So you’re really not qualified to make that assumption, are you?”
He gazed into her eyes and could almost see her slapping her defenses in place. There was a sensual woman under the surface of all that control, begging to be released. He couldn’t wait to see the passion she was capable of when she truly gave in to her own desires.
He closed his eyes briefly, trying to get a grip on himself. What the hell was he thinking? Yes, he wanted her, but she wasn’t the type he could have fun with and then walk away from. He didn’t know what it was about her, but he had a feeling she’d get under his skin, and that was the last thing he wanted. Too risky, too much to lose.
He glanced down, his eyes raking over her from her stylishly clad feet in their shiny new sandals, to her shapely legs, the hem of her white cotton sundress just skimming her knees, the dress merely hinting at the delicious body that hid beneath it. But most of all it was the intelligence and compassion radiating from those intense eyes that stared into his own, the strength and beauty that shone from her that she couldn’t hide even if she wanted to. She was different, this woman, from any he’d known before. She was dangerous.
And still he wanted her.
“I can’t quite figure out why you continue to feel it necessary to invade my personal space. Do you have a hard time hearing or seeing me from a respectable distance? Maybe Joseph needs to make you an appointment for some glasses. Or a hearing aid.”
He chuckled, the thrill of the chase running through him. He leaned closer until she was forced to take a step back. Right up against the wall. “I like being in your personal space.”
She tried to frown but the expression didn’t quite make it all the way. “Well, I don’t like it.”
“Now, that’s not true.” He placed one hand on the wall next to her head and lifted the other to draw a finger down her cheek. “Why do you blush every time I come near you then?”
“It’s ninety degrees out and you keep insisting on forcing your body heat on me. It’s not desire; it’s heat stroke,” she said, raising her pert little chin in the air.
His finger trailed down the column of her neck, skimming over the pulse beating furiously beneath her skin. He leaned in even closer, his lips hovering near her ear. “Why is your blood racing?”
“Because you’re making me angry,” she retorted, with a voice not quite as steady as it had been.
“Hmm.” His fingers stroked along her collarbone and she shivered. What he wouldn’t love to do to this woman. “I think you’re lying…to me and yourself.”
“I don’t care what you think.”
“That’s not true, either.”
She glared at him. “You don’t know me, Mr. Vasilakis. So you’re really not qualified to make that assumption, are you?”
He gazed into her eyes and could almost see her slapping her defenses in place. There was a sensual woman under the surface of all that control, begging to be released. He couldn’t wait to see the passion she was capable of when she truly gave in to her own desires.
He closed his eyes briefly, trying to get a grip on himself. What the hell was he thinking? Yes, he wanted her, but she wasn’t the type he could have fun with and then walk away from. He didn’t know what it was about her, but he had a feeling she’d get under his skin, and that was the last thing he wanted. Too risky, too much to lose.
He glanced down, his eyes raking over her from her stylishly clad feet in their shiny new sandals, to her shapely legs, the hem of her white cotton sundress just skimming her knees, the dress merely hinting at the delicious body that hid beneath it. But most of all it was the intelligence and compassion radiating from those intense eyes that stared into his own, the strength and beauty that shone from her that she couldn’t hide even if she wanted to. She was different, this woman, from any he’d known before. She was dangerous.
And still he wanted her.
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