A Facade to Shatter(29)

She stood very still in his grasp. He didn’t hold her tight. She could have broken free with a single tug. Oh, not when he’d first gripped her hand. Definitely not then. At that moment, he’d been intending to saunter back into the gathering with his woman at his side, looking happy and enraptured for the world to see.

He knew how this game was played. He could have a fast romance and marriage, but first he had to be seen with Lia. And they needed to appear as if they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. So far, they’d looked as if they might prefer to touch anyone else rather than each other.

He had to change that perception, especially since there were at least three reporters circulating at this party tonight. Tomorrow, on the society pages of the local papers, they’d mention his date. By tomorrow evening, they’d know everything about Lia Corretti.

And what he wanted them to know was that she was mad for him.

Except she didn’t look so much mad for him as mad at him at the moment. Furious, with her snapping blue-green eyes and dark auburn hair that caught the light like a flame. Her lips parted slightly as he stared at them. Her breathing grew shallow, her creamy breasts rising and falling more rapidly.

He could see the pulse thrumming in her neck. A very male sort of satisfaction slid through him. Lia was not immune, no matter how she bristled and glared.

Zach reached up and ran his thumb over the pulse at her throat. She gasped, but she didn’t pull away.

“We were good together,” he purred. “We could be again.”

Her eyes were wide as she gazed up at him. “This is an arrangement, Zach,” she said, her voice hardly more than a whisper. “An arrangement that does not include sex.”

He was beginning to regret that he’d used that word with her. She was intent on keeping it strictly business since he’d told her this was a temporary solution to protect their families from the media.

He’d fully intended it to be temporary when he’d said it. It had seemed the perfect solution. He didn’t know the first thing about being a father, wasn’t sure he could even do it. If he married Lia, gave their child a name and a legacy, they could go their separate ways in a few months and everything would be fine.

Except, strangely, since the moment the doctor had given him the test results earlier, he’d felt a sense of duty that warred with those thoughts.

And more than duty. When Lia had come downstairs tonight, he’d felt the same shot of lust he’d experienced in his room in Palermo. The same hard knot of desire had coiled inside his gut and refused to let go.

He bent toward her, breathed in her scent. “What is your perfume, Lia?” he asked, his breath against her ear. A shudder rolled through her. He could feel it in his fingertips where they pressed into her back and throat.

“It’s my own,” she said, her voice husky. “I went to a perfumer in the village. She made it for me.”

Zach breathed again. “Vanilla. A hint of lavender. Perhaps even a shot of lemon. For tartness,” he finished.

“I—I don’t know,” she said quickly. “I didn’t ask.”

Zach couldn’t stop himself from what he did next. He touched his tongue to her throat, glided to the sweet spot beneath her ear. The sound that came out of her made him hard.

Her hands were on his lapels, clutching him. “Zach, stop …”

“Do you really want me to?” he said against her sweet flesh.

She shuddered again, and he reacted with animal instinct, pushing her into an alcove where they were hidden from prying eyes. Unless someone was standing right in front of the opening, they would not be visible from down the corridor.

It was appalling behavior for a public event, but right now Zach was operating on a pure shot of desire.

“I definitely taste lemon,” he said, tilting her chin up and back until her eyes were on his. “You are so beautiful, Lia. So hot.”

“You are trying to seduce me,” she said, closing her eyes. “You would say anything to further your purpose.”

His hand slid around her back, up her rib cage. He shaped her breast, his thumb caressing her nipple beneath the fabric. He was gratified when it pebbled beneath his touch.

“Why do you say such things? Why don’t you want to believe the truth? If you weren’t hot, I wouldn’t be unable to control myself with you. Don’t you remember how it felt? How we burned together?”

“I remember it every day,” she said, still not looking at him. “I carry a reminder.”