Sinful Attraction

by Ann Christopher

  “Oh, and people who talk on the phone while driving,” he added. “Get off the road, moron. You’re not so important that you can’t wait ten minutes to return a call.”

  “Agreed. Why are you wearing all black?”

  “I always do,” he told her. “Power color. And everything matches.”

  She stared at him, her smile slowly fading until he began to feel uncomfortable.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” she said, too quickly.

  “You don’t like black?”

  “I also wear only black,” she said, lowering her gaze. “Same reasons.”

  “Oh,” he said faintly.

  He was getting an eerie prickle on the back of his neck.

  He and Claudia sure had a hell of a lot in common.

  “Where did you go to school? And what did you study?” he asked, trying to keep it light when the silence became awkward. But then the strangest thing came out of his mouth: “And I’m giving you fair warning. If you give any more perfect answers, I’m probably going to fall in love with you before the flight’s over.”

  She snorted. “Well, you’d be the first man who’s ever had that problem with me. Anyway, my major is so obscure, it’s really doubtful.”

  “Try me,” he said, that eerie feeling growing until the skin all over his body felt prickly and alive.

  “I went to King’s College, London. I focused on classical studies with an emphasis on ancient Roman art and Latin.” She grimaced. “I loved it, of course, but people’s eyes usually glaze over when I mention it. So you see? Your heart is safe from me, isn’t it? And what did you study?”

  He paused, utter disbelief getting the best of him. “Ancient history.”

  She blinked those big gray eyes at him. “Oh,” she said softly.

  Marcus stared at her, frozen with conflict. On the one hand, she was a wondrous new creature, as foreign and spectacular as a mermaid sunning on the beach.

  On the other hand, she was like...

  She was...

  She was astonishing. That was the only word he could think of to describe her.

  “Claudia,” he began, running his thumb over the back of her hand again.

  To his keen disappointment, she snatched her hand free and turned to face the seat in front of her again, but not before tipping her head at the window. “I think we’re out of danger. I can see the city lights below.”

  Lights? What? He didn’t care about any lights.

  Smoothing her skirt over her thighs, she shot him a sidelong smile so cool and detached it was as though they’d reverted back to the second they first met, when she clearly didn’t want to be bothered with him. As though they’d never talked at all.

  As though they were merely strangers on a plane.

  “I do hope we land soon,” she told him, unbuckling her belt. “This flight has been a complete nightmare. I can’t get off this plane fast enough. Can you?”

  “Claudia.”

  “Excuse me, won’t you?” Even though the seat-belt light was still on, she stood and moved into the aisle, steadfastly refusing to look at him. “I think I will run to the loo after all.”

  “Claudia.”

  She was already gone, her long strides taking her as far away from him as possible.

  Her name was still on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it back because now wasn’t the time.

  And anyway—he had no idea what he’d been trying to tell her. Only that it felt important.

  * * *

  There she was.

  A powerful bolt of relief shot straight through Marcus, so strong it nearly made him dizzy. Once again juggling his overnight bag and briefcase, he waded into the crowd at O’Hare and tried to keep her in sight, because he didn’t want to lose her again. Thank God she was so tall, and thank God he could walk fast, too. Since fate was giving him a second chance to connect with Claudia, despite her ego-damaging determination to disappear, he intended to make the best of it.

  But why hadn’t she waited for him to collect his overnight bag from the overhead bin?

  Why was she so determined to ditch him after everything that happened on the plane?

  “Claudia.” He picked up his pace, edging around a couple of gangly teenagers trying to walk and text at the same time, and came level with her. Though she had to see him out of the corner of her eye, Claudia didn’t break stride, causing another little piece of his admittedly oversize ego to disintegrate into dust. But what was life without a challenge now and then? “Claudia.”

  Her hesitation was brief, no more than the space between one blink and the next. But it was long enough for him to register the slight straightening of her spine, as though she was gearing herself up for the unpleasant task of getting rid of an overzealous panhandler.

  Another jab to his ego.

  “Why, Marcus.” There was a dryly bored note in her voice that the English accent seemed to magnify, making him feel like the village idiot. “We meet again. What a surprise.”

  “Well, O’Hare’s such a small airport.” He fell into step with her as they continued the endless walk to ground transport where, they’d been told, a shuttle would take all the passengers to their designated hotel for the night. “We were bound to run into each other.”

  The edges of her mouth tried to curl, but she locked it down before it blossomed into a full-fledged smile. “Or perhaps you have the tendency to resist all efforts at eradication and turn up again and again, like a bad rash.”

  “So I’m growing on you, then. Like a rash.”

  Another dimpling half smile made lust tighten low in his belly, but she seemed determined not to give him an inch. “No, actually. I’m wondering if I need to try a stronger ointment to get rid of you.”

  “Now, why would you want to get rid of me?” he murmured.

  “Hmm. Let’s see.” Hitching her bags higher on her shoulder, she made a show of fishing her cell phone out of her pocket and thumbing through it. Her floor-eating strides never slowed, and impatience crept into her tone. “We’ve narrowly survived a near-death experience and have been diverted from our destination. I have a client who’d been expecting me for dinner, and I’ll have to call him to—”

  “Have dinner with me instead.”

  “—explain that I’ll be delayed until at least tomorrow—”

  “Have dinner with me, Claudia.”

  Her jaw tightened. “And I believe I’ve already explained to you that I’m not interested.”

  “Ah, but that was before you recanted and admitted that you thought I was—what did you say?—oh, yeah. ‘Wicked sexy.’ And that you would’ve slept with me. I distinctly remember that last part.”

  A vivid flush crept over her skin, giving her complexion a delicious sun-kissed look. “That’s one of the problems with you Americans. You have an appalling lack of manners.”

  “Appalling?”

  “Yes. It’s very bad form to remind a person of what they confessed when they thought death was imminent. It’s almost as bad as...”

  She trailed off, but he had no problems following her train of thought.

  “As bad as reminding someone of what they said in bed?”

  “Yes,” she said tightly, her chin hitching higher.

  “Oh, well. What can you do? Americans.” He swerved and dodged, narrowly avoiding being plowed down by a woman pushing a jogging stroller with a squalling baby in it. “So what about dinner?”

  “Goodbye, Marcus,” she muttered, speeding up even more. “Have a great life.”

  There was something so unyielding about her now—from her rigid spine all the way down to her white-knuckle grip on her phone—that he knew they’d crossed out of lighthearted flirting and into a dark place. At this rate, sh
e might actually slip away without him ever having the chance to break through her protective wall and approach the woman underneath.

  He couldn’t quietly stand aside and watch her walk out of his life forever. He wasn’t a stalker, but he wasn’t built for giving up without a fight, either. “Claudia.”

  She slowed, keeping her gaze resolutely straight ahead and away from him.

  “Can we just—” Rising frustration was making him sound desperate. He hated that, but, let’s face it—he was desperate. “Can we just, I don’t know—can we just talk for a minute?”

  She took another step, then stopped.

  He was so surprised by this concession that it took him a beat to get his thoughts together. Looking around, he discovered that they were in the high-traffic area just outside one of the terminal’s corner newsstands, a place that allowed him to be elbowed in the back by every other passing person. He held his arm wide and gestured her to a slightly more secluded spot a few steps away, in front of a set of elevators.

  They faced each other straight on, which was a vastly different experience from talking while sitting side by side in their seats.

  She stared at him, waiting, her gaze direct but also wary and turbulent, and the power of his reaction to her—in his thundering pulse, heating skin and tightening chest—was like a zap of lightning directly to the crown of his head.

  He’d been right, then.

  He hadn’t imagined it. This woman called to him in some primal way that, frankly, was more than a little worrisome. But if he let her walk out of his life, he’d regret it.

  And he’d had more than enough regrets in his life since Renee died, thanks.

  Opening his mouth, he tried to put his words together. It was harder than it should have been, possibly because he wasn’t used to having to chase after women, much less breaking into a nervous sweat about it.

  What was it about this woman?

  “I’m...sorry I’m coming on so strong,” he told her.

  “Oh, please—” she began, shifting impatiently and checking her watch.

  “Claudia. Look at me.”

  She hesitated. Her thinned lips and reluctance to raise her head gave him the boost of encouragement he needed. She felt it, too, then, even though she was reluctant to admit, maybe even to herself, that he wasn’t just some routine punk trying to get in her panties.

  “Please.”

  Her bright gaze flickered up to his.

  His breath caught.

  “I’m not a stalker,” he said helplessly. “Look me up on Google if you want.”

  A long pause followed, taking a year off his life.

  She nodded.

  His lungs loosened up and started working again. “Can we have dinner together tonight? In the hotel restaurant, maybe? Or anywhere else you want to go?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Back in New York, then? Next week?”

  “It’s not a good idea.”

  “But you feel this...this...chemistry?” What a weak word for something this powerful. “And the connection...when we talked?”

  “I feel it, yeah.”

  A wild swoop of hope shot through him. “Can we explore what’s going on between us?”

  It took her forever to answer. “I can’t,” she finally said, and even though he knew he had a healthy ego, he wasn’t imagining the shadow of regret across her beautiful face or the sadness in her eyes. “I have very poor judgment when it comes to men, I’m afraid.” She shot him a wry smile. “The old Claudia would already be picking out which dress to wear for dinner and which lacy knickers to put on beneath. But I’m trying to be the new Claudia, because I’ve got a new start with a new job in a new country. And the new Claudia needs a break from sex. And from men.”

  The hope he’d been feeling crashed and burned, forming a smoldering knot of wreckage in his gut. “But—”

  “I’m sorry, because you’re very handsome and very tempting. But I can’t.”

  His frantic brain was already stumbling ahead, trying to find a loophole. She couldn’t now, yeah, sure, but what about six months from now? “I’ll just give you my card, then, and you can call me—”

  “I can’t,” she repeated, turning away and picking up speed as she prepared to jump back into the flow of foot traffic.

  So there it was. The end. He had to let her go because, like he’d said, he wasn’t a stalker, and he was already skirting the line.

  “At least tell me your last name!” he called after her, choking on his frustration.

  She never turned back.

  Chapter 4

  Three hours later, when he got off the elevator and headed to the hotel’s bar, Marcus was still mad at the world and, more than that, at himself.

  For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what’d happened.

  He’d met some woman on a plane. They’d shared a near-death experience and a kiss. They had chemistry, yeah, but it would have to remain forever unindulged, because the woman wasn’t in the right place for any hookups. They would, in fact, never see each other again, and that had to be the end of the story.

  So why wasn’t that the end of the story?

  Why was Claudia’s face all he could see, as though it’d been tattooed to the insides of his eyelids?

  Hadn’t he clicked the delete button in his brain and tried to forget her? Hadn’t he done the right thing by dragging his tired and wired ass to the hotel’s gym, where he’d pumped weights until his muscles burned and shook? Hadn’t he followed that up with a five mile run on the treadmill and a shower cold enough to make ice cubes of his surging hormones? Hadn’t he made some calls and answered most of his emails in a vain effort to think about something—anything—else other than the loss of a woman he’d never had in the first place? What the hell was wrong with him and why couldn’t he forget her?

  His phone vibrated in his jeans pocket, providing him with a welcome distraction. Veering away from the bar entrance, he fished it out and checked the display. It was Cooper, his adopted brother and one of the co-owners of Davies and Sons.

  He clicked the phone on. “What’s up, man?”

  “Grounded in Chicago, eh?” Cooper asked.

  “Yeah. I’m about to drown my sorrows at the bar.”

  “Sounds promising. So it looks like I’ll catch up with you in Jackson Hole tomorrow.”

  “Say what?” Marcus dropped into a tall-backed chair in the seating area outside the bar. “Are you coming out?”

  “Yep. If we want to land this auction, we need to bring in the big guns. That would be me.”

  Marcus snorted.

  “That’s it?” Cooper sounded surprised. “I toss you a softball and you don’t hit it out of the park? What’s up? You sick?”

  Marcus leaned his head against the back of the chair and rubbed his tired eyes. “It was a bad flight.”

  “I get that. That’s why you’re in Chicago. What else?”

  “I—” Marcus gave his shoulders an irritable twitch. He was fast becoming disgusted with himself for acting like such a lovesick puppy that his brother could hear it in his voice. So Claudia didn’t want to see him again. Big deal. Screw her. “Nothing.”

  Cooper waited.

  Marcus shifted in his seat, trying to find a comfortable position. He crossed his legs, then uncrossed them. He ran a hand over the top of his head and cleared his throat, trying to unstick the words.

  “There was this woman. In the seat next to me.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  Marcus could feel the silent but acute sharpening of Cooper’s interest. “Yeah.”

  “So?” Cooper prompted.

  “So...she gave me the kiss-off. I may see her again on the flight out of here, but I may not. And if not, I’ll never see h
er again.”

  “Ah.”

  Cooper waited, which was one of his more annoying tactics. He seemed to have an innate understanding that if he kept quiet long enough and let the tension play out, Marcus would be forced to spill his guts, whether he wanted to or not.

  “I...wasn’t real happy about that,” Marcus admitted.

  “Easy come, easy go, right?”

  “Not always, man,” Marcus said. “Not always.”

  “Yeah.” Cooper let out a harsh sigh. When he spoke again, his voice was uncharacteristically morose. “I feel you.”

  Marcus snorted. The last thing he needed was fake sympathy from one of the biggest players on the Eastern Seaboard. “You feel me. No doubt. And I was born the son of wolves.”

  Silence from his brother.

  “Hello?” Marcus said sharply.

  “Every now and then,” Cooper said slowly, “you meet someone who could be...special. I get that, is all I’m saying.”

  Now Marcus’s interest was piqued. “Who have you ever met?” he demanded.

  “What? Nobody.” Cooper made a disbelieving noise that was a little too vehement to be sincere, and Marcus made a mental bookmark to bring the topic up again at the earliest possible opportunity. “This is about you, man. Go have a drink. Get laid. Get over it.”

  His brother’s advice had as much appeal as a daily prostate exam, but Marcus decided he should fake it anyway, at least with the drink. What the hell else was he going to do on this lonely and no doubt sleepless night at an airport hotel?

  “Yep,” he said. “I plan to.”

  “See you tomorrow.” Cooper yawned hugely in Marcus’s ear, forcing him to hold the phone at arm’s length. “Can you believe this? Flying out to Jackson Hole to convince Judah we can make him a lot of money? When we’ve already made him a lot of money? I’m not sure trying to get his business is worth all the trouble, frankly.”

  “You may be right,” Marcus said. “Later, man.”

  “Tomorrow.”

  Marcus hung up and headed across the lobby, passing several tall and ultramodern banquettes that were arranged around a massive gas fireplace. He was just leaving the lobby area and crossing into the bar’s dimly lit interior, when he heard it.