The Sexiest Man Alive (The Romanos 1)

Flowers? For her? Her heart did one of the silly flips it had done weeks ago, the night he’d taken her to dinner at the Gilded Carousel.

“Susannah,” he said politely.

“Matthew,” she said, every bit as politely.

He cocked his head. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she said, with a little laugh, “I’m fine.”

“You look as if you’ve been crying.”

“Crying? Me? No, don’t be silly. I—I just got out of the shower, that’s all. There’s shampoo in my eyes.”

“Oh.” He glanced at his watch. “May I come in? I’ll only be a minute. I have—an appointment.”

The wispy flutter of hope, which was what it had been, even though it was agony to admit it, died a quick death in her breast.

“I understand,” she said brightly.

“And you? Are you going out this evening with one of our heroes?” His tone was flat and made the word sound foolish, but she smiled as if she hadn’t noticed.

“You frightened them off, remember?”

“And a good thing, too. We have an early start tomorrow.”

Susannah’s false smile faded. Why had her heart been doing flips? It was her stomach that should have flipped at the presence of Matthew the Insolent.

“Actually, Alejandro asked me if you and I were really seeing each other. I explained that that kiss was your idea of a little joke, and he said he might drop by for a drink later this evening.”

“Alejandro,” he said. His lip curled. “Doesn’t Sam mind?”

“Excuse me?”

“Sam.” Matthew’s eyes were dark. “You do remember Sam, don’t you? How would he feel if he knew you were going to spend the evening with another man?”

Susannah flushed. “I know it’s difficult for you to comprehend, but spending the evening with Alejandro doesn’t mean spending the night. Besides, Sam and I have an…understanding.”

“And Peter? Do you and he have an understanding, too?”

“Is that why you came here? To interrogate me about Sam and Peter?”

“I’m just curious, Madison. Your lovers seem to have a very liberated attitude toward fidelity and commitment.”

She laughed. “You’re a fine one to talk about fidelity and commitment.”

“We’re not talking about me,” he said. And, even if they had been, she was wrong. One at a time, was his motto. For a week. A month. Two months, if the woman was really special. Nonna, during one of her lectures on the importance of finding a wife, had once accused him of being afraid to make a commitment to a woman, but it wasn’t true. He just—he wasn’t ready to give up the joys of bachelorhood, that was all.

“At least I don’t keep two women dangling on the same string,” he said coldly.

“I’m sure you’re a candidate for sainthood, Mr. Romano. Fortunately, it’s a free country, and I don’t have to answer to anybody. Now, if you’ll excuse me?”

She started to shut the door, but Matthew jammed his foot in the way.

“Maybe that’s your problem. Maybe you need a man who wouldn’t accept that kind of answer.”

“I’m not interested in that kind of relationship.”

“Why not?” He smiled, and the smile sent a sudden warning heat racing through her blood “Afraid somebody like that would be too much for you to handle?” He reached out, ran a finger lightly from her temple to her throat. “I’ll bet nobody’s ever tapped into that fire trapped inside you.”

She knew better than to tell him there was no fire. He’d kissed her, he’d felt her ignite in his arms. There was nothing she could do to wipe away the knowledge, but he must never know that the fire had shocked her as much as it had shocked him, that all it would take to set it blazing again was the stroke of his hand on her skin.

They looked at each other, and the world stopped. Everything had changed. There was no teasing glint in his eyes, no taunting smile on his lips. All she had to do was move, lift her face for his kiss…

Susannah jerked back, terrified. Her pulse was racing. She wondered if he could see its telltale thump in the hollow of her throat.

“Did you come here for a reason, Romano? A business reason? If you did, let’s hear it. If not, get out.”

Her voice trembled Matthew wanted to think it was with desire, but he knew better. It trembled with anger, and the realization shattered the sexual haze that had engulfed him.

Dammit, he thought furiously, what was going on here? He’d come to apologize for usurping her authority. For giving her a bad day. For making an ass of himself by turning everything upside down, and all because he couldn’t watch her laugh and play and have a good time with those four harmless, silly, muscle-bound boys. Not that he was going to tell her that. What was the point? Susannah and he were like oil and water. Forget the sizzle. There was no way they’d ever really connect.

“I’m waiting, Romano. And time is running out.”

He looked at her. She was barefoot. Without shoes on, she didn’t even come up to his chin. Her face was scrubbed, her hair was damp, she was clutching the lapels of her robe as if he were an Aztec high priest and she were a virginal sacrifice.

Something knotted deep in his belly. Get out, every instinct in him screamed, get out, Romano, get out!

He took a step back. “Here,” he said gruffly, and shoved the bouquet at her. She looked at it as if she thought it might be hiding a beehive.

“What’s that?”

“Dammit, Madison, what do you think it is?”

“Flowers?” she said. Puzzlement shone in her eyes. “For me?”

Matthew blew out his breath. “I’m standing at your door with a bouquet in my hand. Who else would it be for?”

“Well, I thought—I assumed the flowers were for—for whichever of those girls you’re seeing tonight.”

“Girls? Oh. Oh, the models.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I’m not seeing…I’m not picking up, ah, Bernadette, until later.”

“Bernadette? Was there a Bernadette at the interviews this afternoon?”

Was there? Damned if he knew. The interviews had been a nightmare. All those overly made-up females, with their cleavage and their hair…

“Yes. No. I mean…Look, it’s a peace offering, okay? There’s no sense in you and me going at each other the rest of the time we’re here. We both want what’s best for CHIC, right?”

Susannah nodded. “Of course.”

“Then take the flowers. We’ll shake hands, I’ll leave, and you can wait for Bart to drop by.”

“Zeke.”

Matthew frowned. “Bart. Or Alejandro. I’m sure you never mentioned Zeke.”

“Alejandro said Zeke might stop by, too,” she said quickly. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter.” She looked up and smiled. “I’ll take them.”

“What?”

“The flowers. You’re right, it’s foolish for us to argue. Thank you,” she said formally, as she accepted the bouquet. “It was nice of you to think of me.”

Nice of him? Nice? Matthew swallowed hard. He thought of her all the time. Dreamed of her. Imagined what it would be like to take her in his arms….

Which was nonsense. Even if he set aside his rules about business mixed with pleasure, why would he want to get involved with a woman like Susannah? She was prickly and obstinate. She’d surely put her career ahead of anything else, ahead of him. Not that that would matter. The last thing he needed was a woman who wanted more of him than he was willing to give.

“Have a scent.”

He blinked. Susannah was smiling at him over the roses.

“Sorry? I, ah, I missed that.”

“I said, the roses have a scent. They never do, at home.”

Roses she got from Sam? From Peter? “I’m glad you like them.” He held out his hand. “Friends?”

Susannah hesitated. “Not enemies, at least,” she said, and smiled.

He smiled, too. His hand closed around hers. Her skin was cool, but when she til

ted her head and looked at him, her eyes were smoky.

“Well,” he said.

“Well,” she said.

“Good night, Susannah.”

“Good night, Matthew.”

He turned. She put her hand on the doorknob. He stepped into the hall. She began to shut the door…

“The hell with this,” he growled, and swung toward her. “Dammit, Susannah,” he said, and before his heart could take another beat, she was in his arms.

He lifted her, and she wound her arms around his neck as his hand tunneled into her hair. He kicked the door shut and kissed her without preliminaries, without gentleness. Why would there be wooing when they both knew that this moment had been inevitable?

“Alejandro’s not coming, is he?” he said, his mouth a breath from hers.