“Well, good for you, Mr. Maxwell.”
Was she questioning my masculinity?
“I’m perfectly able to take care of myself,” I reiterated.
She snorted, not even bothering to cover up the sound.
“You think differently?” I growled, stepping closer.
“Why, no . . .” she drawled, sarcasm thick in her tone.
I scowled. “You don’t exactly sound convinced.”
“Well, why don’t you check with your assistant about that? The one who booked your flight, ordered your liquor, and didn’t think to inform you of the winter weather? I bet she heats your croissants for you as well, doesn’t she? Brings you lunch daily?” She smirked knowingly. “After all, you don’t even know how to make an omelet.”
I stalked the rest of the way toward her until we were almost nose-to-nose. “That’s what I pay her for.”
“Money well spent, I’m sure.”
“At least I don’t have to worry about her being rude to guests at the hotel I own. Maybe I should mention that to Mr. Walsh when I speak to him.”
“Go ahead,” she challenged. “Tell him exactly what you think of me.”
I would do precisely that if I knew what I thought of her. I wanted to pull out my hair in frustration.
“Are you of sound mind?” I snarled.
“What?”
“You blow hot and cold. One minute you smile at me with a warmth I’ve never experienced, and the next you’re spitting fire at me with your words. Your mood swings are constant.”
The anger melted away from her expression, making her appear vulnerable. Once again, I noticed how fatigued she looked. It caused an odd ache in my heart and made my own ire dissipate. Quiet yearning replaced the annoyance.
“I don’t mean to,” she whispered and looked away.
The air around us changed and became charged with a deep, tender energy I wasn’t used to feeling.
I reached up and cupped her cheek, stroking the soft skin. “I like it better when you’re smiling. Especially at me. You have a beautiful smile.”
Her eyes widened and her breathing picked up. “Dylan, you can’t . . . You shouldn’t . . .”
I leaned down, my mouth hovering over hers, her sweet breath washing over my face. “I want to. Please.”
Then I placed my mouth on hers. Her soft lips melded to mine. I wound my arm around her waist, dragging her to my chest as our mouths moved together as though they had done so for a lifetime—and lifetimes before that one. It felt as if I’d found something I didn’t know I was missing. Heat settled in my chest, blooming like a slow, flickering flame, my entire being easing at her nearness. Groaning, I pulled her closer, the kiss morphing into carnal, blistering desire
. Entwining my hands in her long, silky hair, I tugged and clutched it. Our bodies were meshed together, and I slipped my hand under the loose shirt she wore, pressing into the warmth of the soft skin of her back. Her hands fisted on my shirt, the most erotic, quivering whimpers low in her throat. I moved my lips to the smooth skin of her cheek, trailing light kisses over to her ear, pulling the lobe in my teeth.
“Alex . . .” I moaned.
She stiffened and stepped back, her face flushed, lips swollen. She was beautiful.
I tried to pull her back, but she pushed against my chest, stepping back farther. Her hand flew to her face, her eyes wide with fear. “I . . . I can’t,” she breathed out. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this!”
She turned and fled from the room as if the hounds of hell were pursuing her.
I sat down heavily in the chair closest to me, my chest heaving.
What had I done? One moment, we were arguing, and the next . . .