He watched, feeling something—so strange. A tugging at his chest, at his gut.
She took another bite of her food, clearly enjoying it.
"I like a woman who likes food as much as I do." Maksim almost groaned at his comment. If he did know one thing about human females, they did not like men—or anyone, really—to remark on their eating habits. Especially that they liked food.
Jo finished chewing, and Maksim waited for her annoyance.
Instead she speared more of the salad, dripping with the delicious raspberry dressing. "Food is one of my favorite things."
She popped the lettuce, chicken, and dressing into her mouth and chewed with relish.
He laughed.
She smiled, mouth closed around her food, letting her eyes drift shut to show just how much she did indeed love to eat.
Instantly Maksim's mind alit with flashing images of her under him, her eyes shut, an orgasm making her arch and writhe against him. Legs splayed, wrapping around him.
His laughter stopped, desire ripping through him with an intensity that was breath-stealing.
Jo opened her eyes, her own amused expression fading as she met his gaze. He knew she saw the unrestrained longing there, but he couldn't seem to temper it. The need was just too powerful.
She swallowed, but didn't break her gaze away from his. They stared at each other, him wanting her, her aware of that fact.
Nothing in her expression gave away how she felt about his obvious desire. Not even a hint. Her face was placid, emotionless like a doll's, waiting for him to react.
Finally he did. He reached down to his lap for his napkin. Raspberry dressing glinted pink and shiny on her lower lip. He touched the corner of his napkin to the spot, wishing it was his mouth on her berry-flavored lips, instead of a stiff piece of fabric.
At first she didn't move, allowing the contact. Then his thumb strayed away from the napkin, stroking the soft curve of her bottom lip. At the touch of skin to skin, she jerked back, her chair squeaking on the flagstones at the abruptness of her movement.
She pressed her own napkin to her mouth as if to blot out the brief, grazing caress.
"Did I get it?" she asked, her voice frustratingly even and unemotional.
And something inside Maksim snapped. He couldn't handle her indifference any longer. Without a second thought, he entered her mind, ignoring the NO TRESPASSING sign, scaling the fence surrounding her thoughts and emotions.
CHAPTER 7
Jo's head spun from Maksim's slight touch, nothing more than a fleeting brush of his thumb against her lip. Probably accidental at that. Certainly nothing to warrant such a strong reaction, but she hadn't been able to stop herself. She had to pull away. It made her think and want things she absolutely couldn't.
She tried to stay calm, to react normally, but as soon as she'd asked him if she'd gotten whatever was on her lips off, her head started spinning even more.
Now she couldn't seem to focus her eyes. The restaurant shifted and blurred around her like she was peering through a kaleidoscope. She braced her hand on the table to ground herself. But that didn't seem to help.
She closed her eyes, not daring to open them for several seconds. When she finally did, she saw Maksim watching her. His own face bleached of its natural healthy color as if he was feeling the same nauseating vertigo. Confusion clouded his peridot-green eyes. And he continued to study her as if she were a complete stranger unwelcome at his table.
But instead of asking him what was wrong, she used the edge of the table to help herself stand. She didn't understand his reaction, but she couldn't focus on that.
Nausea churned in her stomach, threatening to make her retch.
"I need to use the restroom," she mumbled, glancing around for a sign to point her in the right direction, finding it on the far side of the courtyard. She didn't wait for Maksim's response as she headed that way, weaving slightly.
Once inside the ladies' room, she leaned heavily on the bathroom door, pulling in a gulping breath to calm her roiling stomach. She remained that way for several seconds, then straightened again, using the wall to balance herself.
Moving carefully, afraid another wave of nausea would hit her or she might jar her head more, which still felt muddled and heavy, almost as if she had somehow gotten a concussion, she made her way to one of the stalls.
Shoving the door closed behind her, she again propped herself against the stall wall. She closed her eyes, willing herself to calm down. The nausea had subsided, thank God. But her head. She pressed a hand to her temple. What a strange feeling as if her brain was too—full.
She rested there for a moment, eyes still closed, not moving.
Finally the strange sensation dwindled slowly away. Still she didn't move. She wasn't ready to go back out to Maksim. She didn't want to face him. Embarrassment replaced the nausea—just a different type of sick feeling. Embarrassment and dread.
She knew she'd seen desire in his eyes. She knew he wanted her. While that was awkward, what was worse was that she wanted him, too.
With just the likely unintentional brush of his thumb, she'd wanted him with an intensity she couldn't deny. Just that easily. What the hell was wrong with her? She prided herself on willpower. On control.
Although she couldn't recall why now. She hadn't been in control of anything for so long, she wondered if she'd only imagined her restraint. Look at her, she was in this restroom, fighting yet another bout of nausea, because things were happening to her that she couldn't alter.
She wasn't going to think about any of this right now. She was going to get herself composed. She was going to go out there and thank Maksim for a nice meal. And she was going back to work. That was the best strategy.
She ran a shaky hand over her face, but didn't move. Instead she rested her forehead on the stall door. Just another moment.
After a few seconds she heard something. Like the pattering of bare feet on the tiles. But she hadn't heard the door open.
Frowning, she lifted her head. And she could have sworn the three-stall restroom was empty. Even in her agitation she'd managed to make note of that. Maybe she'd been wrong.
She stepped away from the door slightly, listening. The footfalls had stopped. Jo held her breath, a sudden shiver of apprehension making her skin tingle and hair stand up on the back of her neck.
The bathroom was freezing, she realized, trying to slough off the strange sensation as just that, a matter of temperature. Cold tiles and humming air-conditioning.
Then she heard another movement, like an impatient shuffle. Carefully, silently, Jo backed away from the door more, until the backs of her legs made contact with the toilet.
She stared at the door, waiting. Her breath held, her heart racing.
This was ridiculous. She should just call out and see if anyone was there. Or just exit the stall. She opened her mouth to ask who was there, but no words formed. She willed herself to reach for the latch on the door, but her hands stayed limp at her sides.
When, after a few seconds, she heard nothing more, she bent just a little, peeking out underneath the door as much as the narrow stall would allow. Underneath, a few feet from the door, she saw small bare toes. Bare feet, just as she thought, facing her stall.
Real fear filled her, even as she tried to tell herself she was being ludicrous. It was a child. Probably nervous, maybe because she's being allowed to go to the bathroom by herself for the first time.
But without shoes?
Well, that was apparently the case, and surely lurking in her own stall wasn't putting the child at ease. Still Jo couldn't seem to bring herself to move.
Just as she'd managed to raise one of her hands and start reaching out slowly for the latch, the feet turned as if to exit the bathroom. Jo stared at the crack between the door and the stall wall. A flash of dark hair and multicolored clothing crossed past the narrow gap. Rainbow stripes.