“You can’t walk away,” Lia said.
“Watch me.”
And Lia did. She watched as he turned from her and walked away. For a moment, she stood, unsure what to do.
He scared her when he was in this mood. He was so cold. Or maybe it was finding out that she had spent the last week in the company of an ex-con that had her scared. Luc was capable of taking another man’s life. He had taken another man’s life, and he hadn’t denied it. He was rich, generous with his money, and she had no idea where that money had come from. From what she could gather, he’d been poor as a child. What had changed, where had his wealth come from? The questions nagged at her mind. Look at the people he knows. Obviously, he has some sort of shady past. Her whole being fought against the knowledge. She couldn’t be so wrong. If only he would talk to her. Trust her.
She followed him back into the small parlor where they had drunk coffee earlier.
“You can’t do this,” she said, slamming the door behind her.
Luc was already pouring himself a drink. “Do what?” He lifted the decanter toward her in question and she shook her head. “Scared you’ll do something you’ll regret?” he asked. “Lose some control? Give in and give us both what we want?”
Lia had a feeling that he was goading her, purposefully trying to steer her off the subject.
“Why won’t you talk about it?”
He swallowed the drink in one go and crashed the glass down on to the tray. Lia gave a little jump, but he just poured another measure, sipping it this time as he peered at her over the glass.
“What’s there to talk about? It’s past history. Nothing to do with you.” She stared at him and finally he shrugged. “What do you want to know?” He sounded disinterested.
“I know you wouldn’t have done anything bad—”
“Of course you don’t know,” he interrupted. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
He put down the glass, gently this time, and came toward her, coming to a halt only inches away. For the first time since she entered the room, Lia forced herself to look into his eyes. Suddenly she became aware that he was furious.
A sharp pang of alarm jabbed her in the gut. Why was he so angry? What had she done?
“Scared, Lia? All alone with a convicted killer.” Raising one hand, he slowly stroked the soft skin of her shoulder. His fingers drifted down until his open palm rested over the place where her heart thumped rapidly against her breast. “Your heart’s racing, cara.”
At the feel of his warm palm, a wave of desire washed over her. Taking a step back, she dislodged his hand. He allowed it to fall to his side and stood staring down at her. He was in control, but she could sense the rage still flickering behind his inscrutable gaze.
“Why are you so angry with me?”
She was bewildered by the turn this meeting had taken. She’d come in here ready to confront him, to make him tell her what had happened, willing to let him explain it all away, wanting him to explain it all away. Instead, he was staring at her with dislike as though she had done something wrong, committed some crime. All of a sudden, she felt uncertain. She went over the confrontation in her mind. Was she being unreasonable? Why couldn’t he just tell her it was all a mistake?
“Am I angry with you?” He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. “What makes you think that?”
His voice was a smooth purr that shivered down her spine.
“Please Luc…”
“Please what, Lia?” He took a step toward her, and Lia couldn’t prevent herself from backing away. She came up against the wall. “I’m more than happy to try to please you.” He lifted a hand and stroked it down the side of her face.
“Stop it, Luc.”
“Why? It’s what we both want.”
He stepped back for a moment, and Lia sighed in relief, but then he shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it onto the back of the sofa. He loosened his tie, released his cufflinks, and shoved them in his trouser pocket, rolling up his shirtsleeves over strong, tanned forearms. Lia watched, unable to move. Luc came back to her, studied her for a moment, and placed a hand palm-down on the wall on either side of her.
“You know,” he whispered, bending in close so she could feel his warm breath against her cheek, “some women get a kick out of being with a man like me.”
“A man like you?” Lia asked weakly.
“An ex-con. A man they perceive as…dangerous.” He paused, his body bending even closer so she could smell the whiskey he had drunk mingled with the sharp exotic scent of his aftershave. “A killer.”
Lia flinched at the word. She pushed against him, and he gave easily. He straightened and stared down at her with hooded eyes. “No? The idea doesn’t turn you on?”
He turned away from her, walked over to where he had left his glass, and took a sip. Lia couldn’t seem to move. Her legs trembled. She was convinced that he had been going to kiss her and couldn’t believe how much she craved it. Even saying those awful things, she still wanted him.
“This is your chance to run away, Lia.”
She shook her head. “Why do you want to find my father?”
Luc laughed softly. “Now who’s trying to change the subject?”
“Why?”
Luc came back to her, moving with predatory grace, and she forced herself not to shift. His eyes did a leisurely perusal of her body, lingering on the push of her small breasts, the slender curve of her hips and waist. It felt almost like a caress, and her nipples responded, tightening, thrusting against the silk of her dress. He smiled, a smile not reflected in the bleakness of his cold green eyes.
“We agreed to forget your father tonight, remember,” he murmured, reaching out to stroke a long, elegant finger down the bodice. “Why don’t we just kiss and make up, huh?”
She shuddered under the caress and tried to concentrate. “Now it’s you trying to change the subject. You don’t want me—you just don’t want to answer my questions.”
He raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Lia, my darling, I’ve wanted you almost from the moment I saw you. And having you didn’t lessen that at all.” He contemplated her for a long moment. Lia thought she was going to scream as the tension rose between them.
“You want to know what you do to me?” he finally asked. Picking up her hand from where it hung limply at her side, he brought it toward him, pushing it against the front of his body, dragging it slowly down until Lia could feel the hardness of him pressed against the softness of his pants. Her fingers closed around him almost reflexively, and he groaned. She glanced involuntarily up at his face; his eyes were closed, the skin taut over his cheekbones, his mouth a savage slash.