LITMIR.BIZ

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over mine?” Draco said with chilling politeness.

      Her face turned an angry shade of crimson.

      “You’re despicable!”

      “And you are wasting my time.”

      “You knew who I was all the time, Valenti!”

      “You will address me as ‘prince’ or ‘sir,’” Draco heard himself say, and tried not to wince at the idiocy of it, but what better way to deal with the representative of a smarmy Sicilian gangster than to play on the ancient, if ridiculous, elements of class distinction?

      “That’s why you invited me to sit with you.”

      “I hope you know what you’re talking about, madam, because I most assuredly do not!”

      She strode forward, came to a stop inches from him. The scent of her rose to him, something as feminine, delicate and sexy as her stiletto heels.

      He recalled the scent from those moments she’d lain in his arms on the plane.

      He recalled more than that.

      The feel of her, pressed against him. The softness of her breasts against his chest. The heat of her body. The swift race of her heart against his, the sigh of her breath …

      Draco frowned.

      His body was remembering, too. Damnit, that was the wrong thing to have happen right now.

      “You offered me that seat for a reason!”

      “I offered it out of the goodness of my heart and the graciousness of my soul.”

      “Ha!”

      She tossed her head again. A couple of golden curls slipped free of whatever it was women called those silly things they used to catch their hair and keep it from falling free, as nature had intended.

      “How pathetic! That you’d stoop to such measures.”

      Her mouth was curled with contempt. Yes, he thought, but he could uncurl it in a heartbeat, kiss that mouth until it softened and sweetened under his.

      “You—knew—who—I—was,” she said hotly, punctuating the words by jabbing her index finger into the center of his chest. “And don’t bother trying to deny it!”

      Had he missed something? Had he been so busy remembering the taste of her, the feel of her, that he’d lost track of the conversation?

      The realization made him even angrier.

      “Deny what?” he demanded. “And stop doing that,” he growled, clasping her hand and folding his fingers around hers.

      “What happened on the plane. What you did.”

      “Excuse me?”

      “Kissing me. It was all for a purpose.”

      He laughed. He couldn’t help it. What man wouldn’t laugh at such an accusation?

      Her eyes flashed with anger. “You think this is amusing?”

      “Let me be sure I understand this. You’re accusing me of kissing you on purpose?”

      “Absolutely.”

      “Well, that’s a relief. I mean, I’d hate to have you accuse me of kissing you without any purpose.”

      Anna blinked. How could he do this? Twist her words so they came out wrong. Take her accusations and turn them into jokes.

      Most of all, how could he be so damnably arrogant and officious and clever and still be so incredibly easy on the eyes? How could the feel of his fingers wrapped around her wrist make her remember the feel of his body against hers? The feel of his mouth? The taste of his kisses?

      “Don’t play dumb,” she said. “You thought if you seduced me it would be impossible for me to represent Cesare Orsini’s interests.”

      He gave her a long, steady look. Then, curse the man, he laughed. Again.

      “Dio, am I clever!”

      “What you are is a bast—”

      “I hate to rewrite your script, madam, but you’ve got it all wrong. I had no idea who you were. The only thing I knew about you was that you had one hell of a quick temper.”

      “What I have, oh your worshipful highness, is no tolerance for bull.”

      “A quick temper. A sharp tongue.” Suddenly his voice turned low and rough. “And you fell asleep in my arms and came awake wanting me as much as I wanted you.”

      Anna’s heart banged against her ribs.

      “I was half-asleep. You took advantage. You wanted to compromise me.”

      He gave a soft, sexy laugh.

      “Compromise is not the word to describe what I wanted of you.” His arms went around her. “What we wanted of each other.”

      “Let go,” Anna said.

      “That’s what you said on the plane.”

      “Exactly. And I’m saying it again. Let—”

      “You said it only after the lights came on.” His arms tightened around her; she could feel every inch of him against her. “Until then, you were as turned on as I was.”

      “That isn’t true! I wasn’t—”

      His gaze dropped to her lips. She could almost feel the warmth of his mouth on hers, taste those remembered kisses.

      “The hell you weren’t.”

      His voice was husky. Hot with masculine warning. He was aroused. The hard ridge of his erection was against her belly.

      Desire, urgent and primitive, shot through her blood. He was the enemy. He was everything she despised, a damnable aristocrat, a man who obviously thought he could treat a woman as if he owned her. He was her father’s and her mother’s enemy, for heaven’s sake …

      But what did that matter when her body throbbed with need?

      They could finish what had started hours ago.

      Alone. Here, with no prying eyes to see them, no one to interrupt a joining of eager bodies.

      Anna shuddered. A whisper of sound sighed from her mouth. Her lashes fell, veiled her eyes as she rose toward him …

      His arms opened, dropped to his sides.

      She blinked. Looked up. Saw that his face was stony, his mouth cruel.

      “Now,” he said calmly as he took a step back, “now, signorina, you have been compromised.”

      Her hand balled into a fist at her side. She wanted to hit him. Hard. Leave an imprint on that smug, cold, handsome face.

      “You did that once,” he said coldly. “I would advise you not to do it again.”

      Anna took a steadying breath. And laughed, though it took everything she possessed to choke out the sound.

      “You’re so easy, Your Highness. Oh, sorry. Does the news come as a shock? Do you honestly believe one look from you turns my knees to water?”

      Draco narrowed his gaze.

      What he believed was that she was lying. To him. To herself. If he wanted her, he could have her. Now. Here. But he didn’t. Damnit, he didn’t. What he wanted was to get everything to do with Cesare Orsini out of his life.

      “Enough of these games,” he growled. “What is your name? And what do you want?”

      “I want you to face facts.” Anna’s voice was steady. Amazing, because her pulse was ragged. “No matter what you claim, I can make an excellent case for you knowing my identity all along.” She smiled brightly. “So if you want to talk about compromising one’s

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