He lifted her chin with one finger and her eyes met his. "I'm sorry. I screwed that up. Let me try again. You look beautiful." His words were exactly what Natalie wanted to hear, but his manner suggested he wasn't telling her the truth. His lips were pressed flat, his brows were pulled down in a frown, and there was a visible tic in his cheek.
She remained silent as he examined her, and she concentrated on taking one breath after the other. His hand left her chin and slid to an earring where he touched it--picked it up and looked at it--then let it drop, his hand sliding to the curve between her neck and shoulder. Natalie sucked in a breath and watched him from under her lashes as his eyes lifted to her hair where the stylist had managed an elaborate partial up-do, leaving the length to fall back down to her neck.
Finally, he spoke again, his thumb making swipes across the pulse in her neck. "What'd you do to your hair?"
"It's an up-do." Her brain was fragmented; she couldn't concentrate on the conversation they were having, not while his touch was on her and his awesome scent was filling her nostrils.
"I'm talking about the color. It wasn't that way when you left this morning, was it?" His voice was brusque, in direct opposition to the way his hand caressed her.
"Oh--no. Chris added highlights." She swallowed hard, trying to stay steady on her heels while she attempted to guess at his meaning. "You don't like them?"
He didn't answer her question; he ignored it completely as he continued with his own line of questioning. "Chris. As in Christine?"
She forced her brain off his intimate touch, his hand now splaying across her throat, and remembered the stylist who had worked on her hair. "No, probably Christopher."
"Christopher? A man styled your hair?" His tone was sharp as his hand fell to her shoulder and gripped tightly, drawing her a few inches toward his torso.
Her heart beat loudly in her ears as she managed to answer him. "Yes."
A dark frown settled over his features but then his eyes lifted to her hair again and he sucked in a breath. "He's probably gay."
Natalie couldn't keep up with the myriad of emotions showing on his features--not when her own were in shambles. "I don't know--I didn't think much about it."
"How could you not think about it? His hands were in your hair."
"I don't know--I was too involved with the cut and color--I didn't think about whether the masseuse was gay or straight either."
Dead silence came between them and his cheekbones became tinged with red. He breathed in deeply. "A man gave you a massage?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I didn't arrange it, Marco--or even ask for one. Joy did."
"And you let him?"
"I--It was the first one I've ever had." Mortification spread through her. "Was a female supposed to do it?"
His nostrils flared and he gripped her wrist, preparing to leave the room. "In the future--yes."
****
Marco escorted Natalie out to the lobby where he had a car and driver waiting on them. His usually analytical thought process had been shot to hell since he'd seen Natalie in the dress. She looked--amazing. Amazing and different. He wasn't sure if he liked it yet. There was no question that she was stunning. Stunning in a way that made him want to touch her, give her the best orgasm she'd ever had in her life, and then lock her in the penthouse.
The dress was beautiful--but it wasn't something any of his other dates would have chosen. It was white, for one thing. The virginal color looked good on her, it enhanced her skin tone and defined the soft curves of her body. And yet, it also intensified his awareness of her unsophisticated innocence. It made him feel as if he were about to seduce an innocent, to take advantage of her inexperience, and it didn't sit well with him.
The earrings had to go. They looked as if they came from a gumball machine and they weren't going to cut it at the function they were about to attend. Again, they reminded him that she was very probably inappropriate for what he had planned for her.
But that wouldn't stop him.
The highlights in her hair were another matter. They added an element of shine and depth to her hair, making it vivid and bold--silky. He wanted to run his fingers through it, clench it in his fists as he imagined that first moment he sank inside her.
But again, although they added a new and undeniably gorgeous dimension to her features, he wouldn't have chosen to allow her to do it had he known the outcome.
She was too beautiful now, too alluring, too--noticeable. And he didn't want anyone--any other men--noticing her.
She had been softly pretty before--even seriously beautiful. But now--she was--dangerously appealing.
He'd have to be on his goddamn guard all fucking night long.
****
Natalie sat in the back of the car beside Marco and tried to calm her nerves so that her inner-self matched her outside poise.
She was a quivering mass of tension and when he told the driver to stop outside a large jewelry store, her heart rate only accelerated more.
"Stay here. I'll be back in a minute."
Natalie concentrated on her breathing and on a small crease in her dress she hadn't noticed before as she waited. He wasn't gone for longer than seven or eight minutes.
He sat back down beside her and closed the door, once again locking her into the intimate space of the back seat that the drawn partition created in the limousine.
The car pulled away from the curb and Marco handed her a small box. "Put these on."
Natalie lifted the lid and gasped out loud. Diamond studs lay on a bed of velvet, sparkling and huge. "I don't think--"
"You don't need to think, Natalie. Do what I said--put them on."
She continued to hold the box in her hands, looking down at the diamonds. She sucked in a breath as she felt his hands on her lobes, removing the earrings she wore. His fingers were cool against her hot skin, and a stream of need flowed from the point of contact down her body to flare into heat between her thighs.
Pocketing the costume jewelry, he lifted the first earring from the box and put it in her shaking palm. "Go ahead."
"Are they real?" She deliberately closed out her sexual awareness of him and tried to focus on the jewelry he wanted her to wear.
He lifted one sardonic eyebrow.
She tried again. "I don't think--"
"Sweetheart," he said softly--almost too softly, and her pulse went skyrocketing again. "I'm not in the mood for an argument. If you continue to argue with me, I'm going to shut you up the way I want to--with my mouth on yours. The way I'm feeling right now--your pretty little hairdo won't survive. Neither will your make-up. Possibly you don't realize this, but I've been having a bit of trouble keeping my hands to myself. Now be a good girl and put the earrings on."