I simply wanted the man. Damn me to hell, I wanted him bad.
I felt the brush of his lips against my ear as he spoke. His voice was as soft and sensual as the kiss that I expected, but the words held the sting of a slap: “You shouldn’t be here.”
Ice burned in my veins, and I stood as tight and still as a statue.
He’d made me. Goddammit, how the hell had he made me?
But no. The “how” wasn’t important. Now it was all about denial and damage control.
I allowed myself only a second to rein in my fear. I let confusion color my expression—not hard under the circumstances—then I opened my eyes. He’d stepped back, and I met his gaze boldly. I expected to see anger and accusation on his face. Instead, I saw warmth. “I—” I closed my mouth and regrouped. “What are you talking about?”
“You shouldn’t be tucked away like this.” He spoke simply, apparently oblivious to my discomfiture. “You should be the center of attention. See that flower arrangement?” he asked, nodding toward the stunning arrangement of flowers that dominated the center of the Palm Court. “You outshine it a thousandfold.”
It was an utterly unoriginal line—not worthy of the man at all. I thought about telling him so, but considering my goal of getting close, insulting him probably shouldn’t be my next move. Frankly, I was so flustered I wasn’t sure what the next move should be. All I knew was that I’d gone on the defensive, and I needed to drop that before he noticed.
It took some concentration, but I managed to conjure a shy smile. “You’re very sweet,” I said. “And I’m very flattered.”
For a moment, he said nothing, but I saw the inquisitive gleam in his eye along with the way his head tilted slightly, as if he was examining something curious. “No,” he finally said. “I don’t think you’re flattered at all.”
“Excuse me?” I couldn’t help the bite of temper in my voice, but it was directed at me, not at him. I should have gone for bold, not demure. Should have stepped forward instead of stepping back.
I’d miscalculated. And I didn’t like to lose.
“You don’t strike me as a woman who needs pretty words and flattery. I think you like a more direct approach.” Once again, he closed the distance between us. Once again, the air shimmered with rising heat, this time fueled by the kind of danger that had the power to burn.
“Is that what you think?”
“It’s what I know. It’s who you are.” He took hold of my wrist, the shock of his touch effectively silencing my lie. “Tell me why you were looking for me, Sloane. Tell me flat out.”
I drew in a breath, buying time as I weighed my options and considered how to mix truth with lies. “I saw you,” I finally said. “On the television, in magazines, in newspapers. You seemed powerful and a little mysterious.”
“Always good to keep the press and the public guessing. It increases the mystique.”
“Does it? Well, I guess it worked. I’ve thought about you, Tyler Sharp. You wouldn’t leave my head. And I decided that I had to get close to you. I had to know if the living, breathing man was as interesting in person as he was in my fantasies.”
I met his eyes. Made sure that he could see the heat in mine. “I wanted to get close. I wanted to see if you were the kind of man I wanted in my bed.”
“And?”
“Now I’ve met you,” I said as I gently pulled my arm free. But my smile was slow and easy and full of invitation.
And leaving that little bit of bait dangling, I slowly walked away.
Chapter Three