Taken the Spaniard's Virgin

He packed the papers back into the briefcase he’d brought from his car. “By rights, I should have left you and returned later for dinner.”

“But you didn’t want to leave.” She moved to lean against the arm of the chair opposite the one he was sitting in.

“No.”

“This feels strange to me.”

“Ditto.”

She smiled wryly. “I figured. I wasn’t expecting to meet someone like you when I was here. I thought it would just be another job.”

“I do not think you can ever be prepared for the kind of attraction we feel.”

Her aquamarine eyes flared briefly with something that looked like relief. “No, I’m sure you can’t.”

He stood, moving closer to her and reached down to cup her shoulder. “I like the way you make me feel.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a man who likes being out of control.”

“I am not out of control.” But her words pricked his conscience. He hadn’t liked realizing what he felt for her bordered on need rather than desire.

“Aren’t you?”

“No.” He was not quite to that point.

“Did you intend to spend the day overseeing the shoot?” she asked innocently, but he knew what she was getting at.

He grimaced in wry acknowledgment of the hit. “No.”

“And you’ve already admitted you should have gone back to your office rather than staying here with me.”

“Your point?” But he knew what it was, onlyshe wasn’t looking at the whole picture.

“Call me crazy, but that doesn’t sound like the actions of a man completely in control.”

That was where she was wrong. He had been in control because the choices had been his. “I saw you. It was like being hit by a bullet train. I decided to pursue the attraction. But Ichose to change my schedule to accommodate my desire. Me. In control.”

And hadn’t he managed to finish his business discussion rather than hanging up like he’d wanted to and kissing her until they were both naked and writhing on the floor? But when was the last time he’d contemplated making love on the floor?

Dios. “Maybe I feel a little out of control, but I’m managing.” Who was he trying to convince? Her, or himself?

“I’m glad someone is,” she muttered under her breath, looking away. Her body language changed subtly.

An arm crossed over her waist, her hand clasping the elbow of the arm that held her drink as she moved to sit in the armchair, creating a small barrier between them. Her legs crossed elegantly, pointed just slightly away from him and in the space of two seconds, she went from being open and warm to wary and reserved.

He’d lost ground. Not sure how or why, he only knew he didn’t like it.

He leaned over and tipped her face toward him with his thumb against her chin. “What is the matter?”

She gave him the smile he’d already learned to associate with her public persona. “Nothing.”

“Do not lie to me. Ever.”

She measured him with her eyes until he released her chin. Then she spoke. “Idon’t feel in control. It took major self-discipline not to rush through getting ready so I could get back to you. I even considered not washing my hair to cut out the drying time. I always wash my hair after an outdoor shoot. I had to force myself to get a drink instead of coming over here and touch you.I don’t touch men. ”