Page 16 of Some Like It Scandalous
“I can’t believe this.” She pressed her hands together in front of her face and laughed a sound so hollow it bordered on sadness. “I mean, I take a job working on a scholarship fund and now my name is tabloid fodder and I have a death threat and a stalker. Wow. Have I mentioned just how not good it is to see you again?”
The verbal jab went straight to his heart. “I’m sorry, Anna. Let me try to fix this. Iwillfix this.”
“And do what? Make an announcement? Tell everyone no, we’re not together? I wasn’t born yesterday. I know that themore you feed the press a denial—especially a denial—it will just make them hungrier.” It was her turn to rub her face and her eyes gleamed with suspicious dampness, twisting the knife further in his heart. “I can’t believe this.”
“I know.” If only regret could change the past—well, if it could do that, neither of them would be sitting here right now.
Her gaze returned to the last image, again and again, until Armand flipped the folder closed. But she hadn’t pulled away from him, and he continued to massage her neck. The taut bunch of her muscles loosened with each caress.
How desperately he wanted to make it all go away. If he could take back that meeting—God, I would. I wanted to see her again, but not like this.He glanced at the glass he’d poured for her. “Do you want that drink now?”
She followed his look, then stood before he could and picked it up. She tossed it back with the same fervor he had. He smiled a little. She licked her lips and his brain locked on the action. “I can’t stay here, that’s the same as admitting to the press that their information on your indiscretion has some basis in fact.”
“I don’t really give a damn what the press has to say on the subject.” The truth of their predicament seemed to be eluding her. “They can speculate I sleep with sheep. It’s the threat against you that’s the problem.”
“But if the press lets it go…” She was reaching and he wanted to let her hold on to that naïve idea.
He really did.
“Fanatics don’t care about press reports unless it reinforces their beliefs. You’re a target becauseIcare and I can lie myself blue in the face to the press, but the simple fact is, if anything happened to you, I wouldn’t forgive myself. So you can hate me and you can be angry with me… Until we sort this out, you are staying here, Anna, and end of discussion.”
She sank back onto the chair. “So speaks the prince royal?—”
Dammit. He’d had more than enough ofthatattitude. Letting go of his patience, he grabbed her chair and jerked it toward him, launching her forward into his arms. His mouth slanted across hers and their lips fused. She came to rest against his chest, half on his lap, with his legs bracketing hers. She froze, but when he massaged her lips, her mouth opened. Her fingers curled against the fabric. Then she kissed him back, her tongue tangling with his, and he was home.
The last light of reason went out in his head.
Chapter 5
Anna
Her breath hitched in her throat. He grabbed her chair and jerked her forward. She all but fell against his chest, the last thing she saw was the anger flaming in his eyes. Her protest died unspoken when he dipped his head and claimed her mouth. She planted her hands on his chest, intending to shove him away, but her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, her anger dissolving beneath the passion in his kiss.
This is Charlie…
The thought floated, disconnected, above the surge of emotion. Her blood went hot, blazing through the wild fever of her temper. Irritation—with herself, with him, with the whole damn situation—melted under the assault of his lips. But no matter the quiet fury in his eyes, his kiss was gentle, possessive, and utterly disarming. His lips glided over hers—tentative, remembering—and when her mouth opened, his tongue slid into stroke against hers.
Oh God. No one tasted as good as Charlie did. Nothing battered right through the years of hurt, regret, and loneliness like the soft, wet kiss of his lips and the warm glide of his hands slipping down her body. She wasn’t in the chair anymore. Hedragged her across until she sat on his lap, lost in the sweet surrender of being close to him.
He sucked on her tongue and heat unfurled like a great sail snapping open to catch the wild wind. Her heart beat so fast it had to be trying to escape. When he released her lips to kiss down the side of her neck, she moaned.
The essence of them—the quick passion, the fury of it taking them—it was all there. It didn’t matter who reached for whom, or where they were. The world disintegrated, falling away to leave only them. His teeth grazed the pulse point in her throat and she slid her hands up into that dark tumble of hair. Soft and silky—just like she remembered it. Memory and reality crashed together, dragging her beneath the riptide.
Her nipples strained against the bra, the fabric rasping against their sensitive tips. Dear God, she wanted him. She needed him. She’d told herself for ten years she didn’t—she lied to herself and let the lie keep her warm at night, but the icy chill of their long separation exploded. She dug her nails in, impatient with their clothes.
He pulled away and nudged her back to her own chair.
It was so fast, her head spun, and she couldn’t catch her breath. She opened her eyes and tried to hold on to him, but he left her, shoving his chair back and rising before she could catch his hands. His eyes were black—the pupil having swallowed the iris—and they were intense with desire.
“Charlie…”
He shook his head and circled away from the table, raking his fingers through disheveled hair. “My apologies—I didn’t mean to maul you that way.”
Why wouldn’t he look at her?
“Please, stay here. Security has orders to keep you in the building if necessary.” His husky voice betrayed no quiver. “I’ll—excuse me. I’ll be with you in a few moments.”
And then he was gone.
