LITMIR.BIZ

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and swinging her legs to the floor. ‘Nobody asked you to get involved.’ She stood and faced him. ‘You did that all on your own. I would have been perfectly fine if you hadn’t been there.’

       Probably.

      She marched across the lavishly furnished bedroom—keeping a death grip on the sagging costume. What she wouldn’t give right now to be wearing her favourite jeans and a T-shirt. Somehow her speech didn’t have as much impact while she was dressed like an escapee from the Moulin Rouge.

      ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he said, his voice dangerously low.

      ‘I’m leaving,’ she replied, reaching for the doorknob.

      But as she yanked the door, all set to make a grand exit, a large, tanned hand slapped against the wood above her head and slammed it shut.

      ‘No, you’re not,’ he said.

      She whipped round and immediately realised her mistake. Her breath caught as her bare shoulders butted the door. He stood so close she could see the flecks of gold in his irises, taste the spicy scent of his aftershave, and feel the heat of his body inches from hers.

      She clasped her arms over her chest as her nipples puckered, awareness making every one of her pulsepoints pound.

      ‘What?’ she snapped, cornered. The last time she’d been this close to Gio she’d been losing her virginity to him.

      ‘There’s no need to go storming off.’ The rock-hard bicep next to her ear tensed before his arm dropped to his side. Her breath released in an audible puff as he eased back.

      ‘You misunderstood me,’ he said, heaving an impatient sigh.

      ‘About what, exactly?’ She tilted her head, thrust her chin out.

       How infuriating.

      At five foot six, and with six-inch heels on, she ought to be able to look him in the eye. No such luck. Gio had always been tall—tall and lanky—but when had he got so…solid?

      She tried to look bored. No easy feat, given her limited acting skills and the fact that her heart felt as if it were being ripped out of her chest all over again. She pushed the memory back, locking it back in the box marked ‘Biggest Mistake of your Life’, while his gaze roamed over her, the chocolate-brown giving nothing away. To think she’d once believed that bleak expression was enigmatic, when all it had ever been was proof Gio had no soul.

      ‘Carstairs deserved everything he got, and I enjoyed giving it to him,’ he said coldly, shoving a fist into the pocket of his trousers. ‘I’m not blaming you. I’m blaming the situation.’ His eyes met hers and she saw something that stunned her for a second. Was that concern?

      ‘If you needed money you should have come to me,’ he said with dictatorial authority, and she knew she’d made a stupid mistake. That wasn’t concern. It was contempt.

      ‘There was no need for you to become a stripper,’ he remarked.

      Her heart stopped and the blush blazed like wildfire.

       Did he just say stripper?

      He cupped her cheek. The unexpected contact had her outraged reply getting stuck in her throat.

      ‘I know things ended badly between us, but we were friends once. I can help you.’ His thumb skimmed across her cheek with the lightest of touches. ‘And, whatever happens, you’re finding another job.’ The patronising tone did nothing to diminish the arousal darkening his eyes. ‘Because, quite apart from anything else, you’re a terrible stripper.’

      Chapter Two

      Issy wasn’t often rendered speechless. As a rule she liked to talk. And she was never shy about voicing her opinion. But right now she couldn’t utter a single syllable, because she was far too busy trying to figure out what outraged her the most.

      That Gio thought she was a stripper. That he thought she was terrible. That he actually thought it was any of his business. Or that he should have the audacity to claim he had been her friend…

      ‘We’re not friends,’ she spluttered. ‘Not any more. I got over that delusion a long time ago. Remember?’

      His hand stroked her nape, making it hard for her to concentrate. ‘Perhaps friendship’s not the right word.’ His eyes met hers, and what she saw made her gasp. His pupils had dilated, the chocolate-brown now black with desire. He was turned on. Seriously turned on. But what shocked her more was the vicious throb of arousal in her own abdomen.

      ‘How about we kiss and make up?’ he said, purpose and demand clear in the husky voice.

      Before she could respond he brushed his lips across hers, then dipped his head and kissed the swell of her left breast. Raw desire assailed her, paralysing her tongue as he nipped at the sensitive flesh. Her breath gushed out and her head bumped against the door, shock and panic obliterated by the swift jolt of molten heat.

       Stop him. Stop this.

      The words crashed through her mind. But the only thing that registered was the brutal yearning to feel his mouth on her breast. She could still remember the way his insistent lips had once ignited her senses. Her arms relaxed their death grip on the corset, and the ripe peak spilled out.

      She sobbed as he circled the rigid nipple with his tongue, then captured it between his lips and suckled strongly. Vivid memory and raw new sensation tangled as she arched into his mouth. Her thigh muscles clutched and released as she surrendered. He pushed the sagging bodice down, cupped her other breast. She moaned as he tugged at the swelling peak.

      The firestorm of need twisted and built. Dazed, she clasped his head, gripping the silky waves—and felt the sharp knock on the door rap against her back.

      Her eyes popped open as he raised his head.

      ‘Hell, ten years isn’t enough,’ he murmured, the sinful chocolate gaze hot with lust and knowledge.

      She scrambled away, shame shattering the sensual spell. Drawing in a ragged breath, she grasped the sagging corset, covered herself, wincing as the cool satin touched tender flesh.

      The knock sounded again, and panic skittered up her spine.

      What had just happened? What had she let happen? How could he still have this effect on her?

      ‘Excuse me, Your Grace.’ The tentative voice, muffled by the door, broke the charged silence. ‘Would you like me to leave the tray here?’

      ‘Just a minute,’ Gio shouted, his eyes fixed on hers. ‘Stand over there,’ he murmured, nodding to a space behind the door that would keep her out of sight.

      She bristled at the note of command, but stepped back. She had to get out of here. Before this got any worse.

      ‘I have your brandy and iced water, Your Grace,’ the footman announced as Gio swung open the door. ‘And the lady’s coat. It was on the hall chair downstairs.’

      ‘Great,’ Gio said curtly as he took the coat from unseen hands. Glancing her way, he passed it to her.

      She stuffed her arms into the sleeves. Hastily tying the corset laces, she belted the mac as she watched Gio hand over a large tip and take the tray from the invisible footman.

      He scowled as he pushed the door shut. ‘Let’s talk,’ he said, sliding the tray onto the table beside the door.

      ‘No, let’s not,’ she said, pleased that she’d stopped shaking long enough to cover some of her modesty.

      She stepped forward and gripped the door handle, but she had wrestled it open less than an inch before his hand slapped against the wood, holding it closed.

      ‘Stop behaving like a child. Surely after ten years you’re over that night?’

      She flinched at the impatient words. Then straightened,

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