Rebel with a Cause

Her eyes closed, her body blanking everything so it could focus only on the touch. His gentleness so unexpected, the rush of sensation pierced through her.

A moan—was it her? The softness, the slowness, the sweetness over whelmed her. She trembled again and his hands tightened. This wasn’t enough.

And then it was over.

She couldn’t breathe. She saw his eyes zooming in on her. Jet black now. Intense. Beautiful. Time and motion stopped for a moment that felt like infinity. Her every nerve was wired, waiting, wanting. Would he come back—would he kiss her again?

‘No,’ he said roughly, stepping back. His hands dropped—leaving her suddenly cold. ‘You were right. I was wrong.’ He walked out of the door. ‘I really am sorry.’

CHAPTER FOUR

SOPHY managed to stay standing ’til Lorenzo was out of sight, then collapsed into the chair. Fisting her hands over her eyes, shoulders rising—blocking all sensation. Just for a second. Just to stay sane. Her whole body tingled, as if she’d been zapped by some kind of extra-terrestrial ray-gun making all her cells jiggle.

The disappointment was devastating.

Why had he stopped? She

knew he’d felt it—she’d seen it in his eyes, heard it in his voice. But he’d practically run away.

If she was Rosanna she’d have been the one to move that second time. It would have taken nothing—the slightest tilt of her chin to resume the contact. She’d had it on a platter. Yet she hadn’t taken the chance.

Now she was mad with herself for wishing she had, even madder for having been so damn passive. Why hadn’t she had the guts to take the risk? But she’d been knocked—first by his words, second by the kiss and the emotion that had flooded through her.

And now he was sorry? Not just for what she’d overheard, but for kissing her. She under stood. But she couldn’t under stand how he could regret it. He’d felt it as she had; that kind of chemistry couldn’t be one-sided.

And she wanted more. She really wanted more. A fire had been lit in her belly and it needed feeding. Except it looked as if she was going to be left starving.

Well, she was taking her lunch break today. She was working to rule and jolly well going to work on her own project. Spurred on by what she’d said to him—she did have her own ambition. And now, more than ever, she was determined to make it. She’d do this exhibition and show them all she had more to her than great organisational skills. She had dreams—and she’d make them real.

That had been a mistake. Oh, man, had that been a mistake. Lorenzo’s body hurt as he moved—every cell rebelling as he made himself walk away.

Yeah, she had emotions all right—her want for him so hot and sweet. He wanted to bury himself completely in the delectable softness she offered.

She’d stared at him. Just waiting with her eyes so huge. It was like corrupting an innocent. She really was a good girl, wasn’t she? And Lorenzo never messed with good girls. Ever. Things got too messy. And it was obvious things with Sophy would get nuclear messy. Hell, she’d been crushed by that stupid comment he’d made to Alex. Her big eyes brimming with hurt—from just a few silly words. And he felt bad for it—an absolute heel. Because she hadn’t deserved it. He didn’t like feeling guilty.

And now he knew for sure there was no way in hell she was frigid. She wasn’t just warm either. She had volcanic qualities. Like a snow-capped mountain, she was capable of blasting fire when you least expected it, able to melt granite with her heat.

That just made it fifty times worse because he ached to make her tremble again and again. Being with her, in her, would be more than explosive, it would be some kind of divine experience. But if she was hurt by just a few words, no way could she handle a short-term fling. And that was all he ever did. She was a relationship woman. Ms Monogamous.

She was far too good for him—literally. He just wasn’t crossing that line. It didn’t matter how hot he was for her, it wasn’t going to happen. Because Mr Monogamous he wasn’t. He’d tried it once when he’d been young and naïve enough to think the past wouldn’t matter. He’d been shot down and wasn’t taking a hit like that again. Sure, he liked women—lots of women—for the physical fun of sex. No more than three times with a partner—preferably in the same night. That wasn’t a kind of deal straight, sweet Sophy could handle.

But he couldn’t stay away, not all day. He told himself he couldn’t be rude and ignore her after what had happened. Somehow he had to get them back to a purely professional footing. Going to be tricky given he was the one who’d been flashing skin the whole time.

She was at the desk, her head bent as she concentrated on the stuff in front of her—piles of tiny objects. She had a bag open on the edge of the desk, small sharp-looking tools to one side while she made her decisions. It was the first time he’d seen her actually sitting still and not busily typing while filing and talking to someone on the phone all at the same time. Now she was so concentrated, so quiet, looking so intently at the stuff on the table in front of her. He leaned his shoulder against the door jamb and said nothing. Just waited for her to realise he was there, enjoying the time he had to observe.

It was several minutes until she glanced up, did a double take and squeaked.

‘Oh, sorry.’ The tempting colour rose under her skin. ‘I didn’t hear you.’

‘What are you doing?’ He’d figured it out already but didn’t want to admit just how long he’d been standing watching her like some stalker.

Her hands moved, as if to hide it from him, her serenity broken as she started packing it all away. A velvet covered board with grooves in it into which she was arranging small semi-precious stones or beads or other bits.

‘It’s okay,’ he said, wishing he hadn’t shattered her moment of calm so completely. It was as if he’d tripped the switch and now the efficient au to ma ton was back. ‘You’re allowed a lunch break.’ Except lunch had been hours ago. Had the goody two-shoes abandoned her job all afternoon?

She looked guilty.

Yep, he’d caught her out. He couldn’t stop his mile wide smile. ‘What are you making?’

She blinked at him, hurriedly looked away. ‘A necklace.’

‘A hobby of yours?’ He saw her tension spike.

Then she nodded. All back to brisk. ‘Yes.’

He watched as the guilt gave her an all-over-body sweep of red.

‘Sorry,’ she muttered. ‘I lost track of time.’

She was just never going to be a cheat, was she? Never going to be someone who could do something she shouldn’t and not own up about it. He bet she’d never done anything remotely dodgy in her whole life. Jeez, they were poles apart.

‘Don’t worry about it.’ He didn’t care. She’d done an amazing job clearing up the mess that was the Whistle Fund office. Everything was running on schedule again. Even the opening of the bar looked as if it was going to go off okay. The chaos of the last couple of weeks seemed to be at an end. In no small part thanks to Sophy. She was allowed an afternoon to slack off. ‘Just go home early. You’ve done heaps already.’

She lifted her head, the cool look back. ‘Okay. Thanks.’

He lingered for a half second too long, tempted to say or do something more. Finally he made himself turn and walk along to his own office. It had just been a kiss. Nothing more than that. He could forget it. He could ignore the tantalising prospect of seducing her. Sure he could.

At least try to do the right thing, Lorenzo—for once in your life.

Sophy hadn’t had any sleep. She’d sat up late again, working on her pieces. Unhappy with the necklace she’d made the night before. Her jewellery had to be something really special—couldn’t be something anyone could make in their own home if they had the time and the inclination. It was all about the eye, the detail and the little spark of difference. She had the resources—had been collecting vintage bits and bobs for years. Had gathered a lot while in Europe and had got invaluable experience when she’d worked on the floor of a jewellery shop in France. She’d spent her lunch breaks sitting in the workshop with the jewellers learning some of the finer points. She’d done a few courses too, so she had a reasonably solid technique now. But she didn’t have so much time to make the amount she needed for the show. And she wasn’t sure she had them exactly how she wanted them.

But on top of everything she was distracted. Wished Rosanna were on hand to help her out—with Vamp 101 classes.

She didn’t see Lorenzo all morning. But early afternoon, as the sun was hitting its zenith, she heard that familiar sound. She looked out of the open window. He was on his make shift basketball court, wearing jeans of course. But his torso was covered this time—with a loose NBA style singlet.

He glanced up to the window, saw she was watching. She pulled her head back in but she saw his grin. He bounced the ball a few times. Executed some fancy run up to the board and jumped high—landing the shot.

He glanced back up to her. Yeah, okay, she was still watching and he knew it. Too slowly he lifted the hem of his singlet, used it to wipe the sweat from his brow—revealing his abs in the process. Deliberately. Provocatively.

He lifted his head and looked up at her.

He wanted a reaction? Impossible—she couldn’t move, just stared at him.

His smile appeared and both his hands moved to the hem of his singlet. In a flash he’d whipped it over his head—tossing it to the side.

Oh God, she just couldn’t take it any more. She slammed her window shut. Heard his laugh anyway. That tore it. She stood and marched down stairs, opened the back door, let it slam behind her. He turned, she saw his surprise. So he was just winding her up? He’d pay.

She walked past him and went to where the ball was rolling towards the fence, scooped it up. It was bigger than the netball she used to play with. She prayed to the sporting gods for some kind of benevolence. It had been years since she last played netball, but she had been Goal Attack—responsible for shooting through the hoops. She rolled the ball against her palms, pulling it in tight to her chest, getting the feel for it. She was too steamed to care much anyway. Really she felt like throwing the thing at his head rather than the hoop.

She turned. He was too close behind her. She gave him a pointed look and he took a step to the side. Neither said anything. She looked up at the basket. So damn high. Still, she had energy in her muscles that needed to be expended.

She aimed and threw. The net swished as the ball slid through. Confidence from her success swamped her and she turned to stare hotly at him.

‘Been keeping secrets?’ His voice was low. ‘You want to play with me, Sophy?’

‘I want to beat you.’

His whole body tensed. She saw the electricity surge in him.

‘No one beats me.’

‘Not afraid, are you, Lorenzo?’

The briefest pause and then that smile curled. ‘What are we playing for?’ He quietly walked closer.

Yeah, she’d hoped she could bring out his wicked side. She just hadn’t realised quite how easy it would be. ‘What do you want to play for?’

Was this her? Leaning provocatively close to him, practically purring?

His amusement deepened but it didn’t bother her, for she saw the fire too. ‘You’re the one suggesting the game; you come up with the prize.’