His reaction was instant. And evident. Heat pooled between her legs at the unmistakeable feel of him. What she had managed to elicit. As though she had some kind of power over him. It was a heady sensation. She lost track of where they were, what was around them and she rocked against him, her body splayed against his.
‘Dieu,’ he growled in her ear, barely catching her hand from sliding down his chest to his trousers. ‘Is this where you choose to come to me? Out here, on the tarmac?’
She blinked, crashing back to earth. Remembering where they were.
‘I... The photographer,’ she whispered hoarsely.
‘Has more than enough, believe me.’ His voice was harsh, tight. ‘Now, get into the car.’
It took everything she had to stay calm and not scramble to get inside, wondering if she’d ever felt so mortified. When Louis joined her on the butter-soft leather she couldn’t help her yelp of discomfort. Though she noticed he did nothing to close the gap between them.
‘Quite a show,’ he accused her.
She had no idea how she managed to raise one eyebrow at him, her voice shockingly level.
‘I thought that was the whole point.’
‘I asked for a kiss, not an open invitation to take you right there on the runway. That part of it is something I’d rather do with you in private.’
‘Really? This, from the king of sex spectacles?’
‘With other women, Alex,’ he bellowed. ‘Not with you.’
It sliced her deeper than she’d thought possible. An unambiguous slap in the face of just how gauche, how sexually unsophisticated she was.
So much for keeping her head around him. One minute in his company and she was losing her mind and her morals. It was more confusing than ever. Like being a human pendulum, swinging wildly from one extreme to the other.
Now, like a wounded animal, she retreated to her corner of the car to lick her wounds. Louis, on the other hand, stewed silently in his.
CHAPTER TEN
IT WAS LIKE some kind of illogical torture. Sitting here, at the restaurant, both equally frustrated yet having to flirt, to play the loving couple, just to conceal their row from the other curious diners so that they could forge ahead with the main goal of tonight. To stage their very public engagement.
The timing couldn’t have been worse. After this afternoon he was still smarting. Smarting. As though their contretemps had actually got to him.
And yet it had. Even now, when he thought back over what had happened on the runway, he couldn’t work out where it had all sprung from.
A row.
As if they were a proper couple.
It was almost enough to make him laugh. And somehow the thought chipped the first sharp corner off the block of granite that seemed to have taken up residency in his chest.
‘I apologise,’ he murmured. ‘For what I said to you this afternoon.’
She looked up at him in surprise, then belatedly smiled. To him, it was too brittle to be a real smile, but he knew that, even to fool the hawk-eyed photographers, it would appear to be the sweetest, shyest smile.
‘You mean for reminding me how I don’t match up to any of the other women you’ve...dated?’
The smile didn’t even waver. If anything, he felt it become that much sharper, like a scalpel blade pressed against his chest. But it was her words that had him taken aback. He fought to keep a frown from his face.
‘That certainly isn’t what I said.’
‘Yes, it is.’ She nodded vigorously before remembering herself. She leaned forward across the table so no one could possibly overhear them, although they both knew it would simply look as though she was captivated by him.
Incredible how much he suddenly wished that was true.
‘You’ll have to refresh my memory.’