“Nothing’s wrong.”
“You-” she pointed a pitiless finger “-are seriously into denial.”
Feeling badgered, she crossed her arms over her chest. “What makes you think something is wrong?”
“Because your skirt’s on backward.”
Katie looked down and saw that Tanisha was right. Her zipper was twisted around to the front, not in the back where it belonged. It must have happened in the theatre.
Her face heated. Good grief, she was seriously into denial.
Denial that her feelings for Liam were growing too fast and too strong.
Tanisha narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Have you fallen off the cold-turkey wagon? Where were you during your lunch hour?”
Thankfully, her extension rang and she snatched up the receiver to avoid answering her friend’s probing questions.
“Katie?”
She caught a skittish breath. The sound of Liam’s voice, as spellbinding as snake-charmer music, curled through her body. Her tongue was cemented to the roof of her mouth and her hand tightened around the receiver. A dozen erotic images erupted in her mind.
She recalled the way he had looked at the movie theatre, muscles coiled tight, face scrunched up in ecstasy. Her hands tingled, recalling how her fingers had brushed against the smooth skin of his strong, clean-shaven jaw. Her nose twitched in memory of the tangy scent their lovemaking generated. Her mouth watered and her sex clenched with electric shivers. She wanted to do it again.
And soon.
But it wasn’t just the physical act, and her enjoyment of it, that had her aching to be joined with him again. What she remembered most about their adventure in the theatre, what frayed her heart with an emotion she didn’t want to think about, was the way he’d tenderly cupped her face in his hands. He’d stared deeply into her eyes and then kissed her lightly, tenderly, the moment after they’d climaxed together.
“Katie,” he repeated.
“Uh-huh,” she whispered, her pulse skipped a zealous message to her brain. I want him.
“I know this is short notice,” he apologized, “but are you free on Wednesday night?”
“Um…what’s up?”
“Mayor Delancy is having a dinner party at his house and I need a date. Can you come with me?”
Can I come with you? That was a loaded question if she’d ever heard one. “I’d love to.”
“Great, I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.” He rang off without another word.
Katie hung up, feeling a strange mix of emotions-anticipation mingled with sheepishness and a light dusting of bafflement. She’d been a flirt since childhood. Teasing men, leading them on and then taking off when things got too serious for her to handle. She liked keeping guys off balance, making them unsure of where they stood with her.
But Liam was different. Here he’d gone and asked her for a last-minute date and she hadn’t hesitated. In the past-with any other guy-she would have pretended she had another date. Instead, she eagerly accepted Liam’s invitation without thinking twice. How messed up was that?
Katie put a hand to her stomach, alarmed. Something very strange was happening to her. Something she could not control or explain.
And she wasn’t at all sure she liked the path she was headed down.
9
LIAM PACED his penthouse apartment, his nerves shredded, even though he was loath to admit Finn Delancy held that much power over him. Tough guys didn’t get nervous over being the guest of honor at dinner parties thrown by their illegitimate fathers.
The only thing that calmed him was the knowledge that he would have Katie by his side. She knew how to successfully navigate blue-blooded waters. One ally. That was all he needed to give him the strength to confront the man he’d never called father.
He picked Katie up in his Lamborghini at seven-thirty on the dot. She opened the door looking exactly like what she was-a well-bred Boston Brahmin. She wore a little black cocktail dress that fit her curves perfectly and showcased her sleek blond hair. The dress showed enough cleavage to be enticing without being vulgar. The skirt hem hit right above her knees. Not too long, not too short.
A five-carat diamond lay draped around her long slender neck, and she had on a matching bracelet. She’d twisted her hair up off her shoulders like Aubrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s-his mother’s all-time favorite movie.
She’d struck exactly the right note.
He stared, stunned by the simplicity of her beauty. “You look amazing.”
Her smile was surprisingly shy. “Thank you.”
“I brought you a corsage.”
“I can see that.”
He suddenly felt like a giant dork standing there with the vibrant red rose corsage in his hand. He’d gotten it on Vanessa’s recommendation, but now the gesture seemed way too high-school-promish. “It’s a dumb idea.”
“No, no.” She reached for the corsage. “Flowers are never a dumb idea.”
“Should I pin it on for you?”
“Please.”
He took the corsage out of the box and stepped forward to pin it on her dress. She smelled so good, so tempting. His knuckles grazed the curve of her skin, his fingertips brushing the velvety material of her dress. She felt so warm and alive.
Katie lowered her lashes, watching him pin the corsage in place. The fact she was watching him threw Liam off his game. Her succulent aroma, mingled with the smell of the roses, enticed him. He wanted to lean over and nibble on the creamy expanse of her exposed neck.
“Your thumb,” she exclaimed. “Look, Liam, you’re bleeding.”
It was only then he noticed he had poked his finger with the pin while putting on her corsage. He’d been so overwhelmed by her that he hadn’t even felt the prick of pain.
Katie snatched a tissue from a nearby box, reached out, took his hand and dotted away the blood.
Something knotted inside him at her tender touch. Something alien and scary.
He wondered how he looked to her, successful entrepreneur in a tux, Boston’s most eligible bachelor, all suave and debonair, sticking his finger with a pin and not even paying attention because her beauty had so preoccupied him.
“Where did you get that tattoo?” she asked. “It doesn’t fit with the rest of you.”
He stiffened. He was sensitive about the tattoo. He wore wide watchbands to hide it, but when he looked down he could see the inky barbs peeping around the edge of his Rolex.
“I got into some trouble when I was a kid,” he admitted, hoping a simple explanation would be enough.
“What kind of trouble?” She breathed, and he could tell she was intrigued.
“I got mixed up with a gang,” he mumbled.
“A real gang?”
“Real enough.”
She blinked. “I don’t believe you.”
He didn’t know what possessed him to do what he did next. Her tone of voice, maybe. Or perhaps he had a desire to shock her. But the next thing Liam knew he was stripping off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt.
A smile curled her lips. “I like the way this is going.”
Her teasing frustrated him. He aimed to stun, not titillate.
He whipped off his shirt and then tugged down the right side of his trouser waistband, revealing the jagged silvered scar just above his hipbone.
Katie’s eyes widened to the size of quarters. “Ohmigod!”
Talking about being stabbed was more difficult than he’d thought it would be. But Liam was not prepared for what she did next.
Katie crossed the distance between them, sank to her knees and softly pressed her lips to his scar, leaving behind the scarlet imprint of her mouth branded against his skin. The gesture sent quivers shooting through his groin. Uncontrollably, his penis hardened. Disturbed by her response and his reaction to it, he held out a hand to help her to her feet.
“Tell me,” she whispered, and touched his arm, leaving him wishing he’d never started this.
He lifted his shoulder, shrugging as if it had been no big deal, rather than a defining moment in his life. “It was the stupid mistake of a fourteen-year-old kid, looking for a place to belong.”