"You received some more requests to speak," he said at last. "I was trying to see if I could organize them into a tour."
"A tour?" she repeated, praying the words wouldn't strangle on their way out. He had figured it out. He was trying to get rid of her.
"You could go in the fall. Get your name better known. You deserve that, you know. You're a princess, Zoe, not a girl wrapped in a donkey skin."
Zoe blinked at this odd reference. Realizing her eyes were threatening to overflow, she dropped her gaze to her feet. The sight of his shoes momentarily blanked her mind. He wasn't wearing his usual cowboy boots, but a pair of high-topped yellow sneakers with Wile E. Coyote painted on the sides. With an effort, she pulled her concentration back.
"I'm not sure I want to travel. My friends are here. I… I feel more comfortable at home."
Her voice was low and husky, and all the curses in the world wouldn't erase the emotion that gave away. Magnus crossed the room before she could step back. He didn't touch her, but the heat from his body was distracting. Magnus's appeal was based on more than his looks. His energy always seemed twice as high as other men's.
"Zoe…" he began.
Zoe knew she had to stop whatever he was going to say. "I hope you're not unhappy with what I'm earning," she interrupted hurriedly. "I could advertise for more clients. Maybe put a site on the Internet."
"Zoe." He gripped her shoulders in his hands, the tingling warmth of his hold like hot molasses running down her skin. She struggled not to shudder with enjoyment. "I'm not unhappy with what you make. I want this for you. Because you deserve it. You can't imagine I'm looking forward to you being gone."
She did cry then, horrible, sniffly sobs that had her gasping into the tissue Mrs. Darling had refused. Completely mortified, she tried to struggle out of Magnus's hold, but he wasn't having that. He pulled her close instead, tucking her head under his and enfolding her in his arms.
He'd never held her like this before. She had to use all her self-control to stiffen instead of melt.
"Shh," he said, then swore softly into her hair. "Zoe, Zoe, Zoe. You had to go and make this harder than it was."
"Oh, God," she cried. "You're turning me out!"
He clucked his tongue in exasperation, then tipped her head back and held her face. "I like you, Zoe. I'm not turning you out. I enjoy having you around."
She mopped the last of her crying jag from her nose. She was light-headed from her outburst and probably not thinking straight, but she knew she'd never find the nerve to ask this again.
"If you like me," she said as deliberately as he'd been addressing her, "why haven't you made a move on me?"
His green eyes darkened a second before his face followed suit, a flush washing up his chiseled cheeks. She'd thought his smile could knock a woman flat, but the intensity of this expression stole her power to think. His gaze burned down at her from his greater height. He looked like he was angry, but she was pretty sure that wasn't it.
She was certain when his lips covered hers.
His kiss might have been soft, but it sure wasn't wasting time. She felt his tongue push into her mouth and heard her own knee-jerk moan of excitement. The rest of the world disappeared as that hot, wet flesh speared deep. His heat, his scent, his pounding heart became her universe. Suddenly, his arms were wrapped hard around her, one hand forking through her curls to cradle her head. He angled it to suit his pleasure, while his second hand crushed her left butt cheek. She was wearing a gauzy, printed skirt, and he gripped that buttock like he owned it. His long, hot fingers stretched farther forward than she let most men get on a second date.
She had no urge to stop Magnus, and it wasn't just because it had been longer than she could remember since she'd had any date at all. At the first intimate contact of his fingers, her body jolted with an erotic shock so powerful it surprised her—even with the time she'd spent hankering after him. No wonder women dropped like ripe cherries around this man. His hands conveyed an energy that fairly buzzed. A flood of moisture ran into the folds he'd brushed, then overflowed them in a heated rush.
Boy, it had been too long since anyone had touched her. If the mewls she kept spilling into his mouth hadn't clued him in already, Magnus had to know what he'd done to her.
Right that moment, it didn't seem to bother him. Feeling the evidence of her arousal, he made a low, rough noise and kissed her harder, his hunger a savage, wonderful thing. His body moved in a slow undulation, his erection grinding against her belly.
God, it was big. Big and hot and—
Magnus tore his mouth away from hers.
"This is… not the plan," he gasped.
Dizzy, Zoe stroked the pulse throbbing in his neck. She had to touch him, had to feel his skin against her palms. His tendons were tight, his skin dark with the blood rushing under it. She felt starved for him, for this. Going on tiptoe, she tipped her head up for another kiss.
"No," he said, very firm but still breathless. "You're not thinking like yourself."
Zoe's head cleared reluctantly. If thinking like herself meant stopping, she didn't think she wanted to. Magnus had kissed her. Magnus had eaten at her mouth like he'd been lusting after her every bit as much as she'd been lusting after him. His big, broad chest went up and down with his labored breathing. Then he let his hands slide to her elbows and stepped back.
Zoe dropped onto her heels like a balloon with the air let out.
"I'm sorry," he said. "This isn't how I want it to be with you."
Hurt and anger had her eyes sliding to his groin. She might not be the queen of the sex parade—her oddball calling saw to that—but she remembered the difference between a man who wanted her and one who didn't. Magnus's erection shoved starkly against his jeans, its outline almost too thick and long to be real.
"This isn't how you want it?" she repeated in disbelief. "I'd say one large part of you would disagree."
"I'm easily aroused," he said with an odd, defensive dignity.
Zoe folded her arms across her br**sts, uncomfortably aware of how sensitized they were. "Well, that explains why you only f**k once a month."
Her sarcasm called a shade of purple into his face. The contrast made his eyes blaze like emeralds, in spite of which his voice was calm.
"Don't be crude, Zoe. It doesn't suit you."
Her temper, which she almost always had under control, abruptly snapped. "How about this? Is this too crude to suit me?"
She slapped her hand around the bulge of his big erection, squeezing hard enough to feel the give of his balls through the worn denim. It was possible she'd meant to hurt him, but she forgot to be angry in her enchantment. She might as well have taken hold of a python; his c**k felt that substantial, that alive. Magnus moaned, agony and pleasure mixing in the sound. His hand jammed over hers, completely covering it.