Daisy ignored the red flag that warned against spending too much time with the wickedly charming Luiz Valquez. She had asked for four days and now she had the chance to have four weeks. She’d wanted a walk on the wild side, hadn’t she? This was her chance to make it one to remember.

‘OK. You’re on.’

Luiz took her by the shoulders and pressed a blisteringly hot kiss to her mouth. Daisy leaned into him, unable to help herself from responding with burgeoning passion. He only had to touch her and she erupted into flames. She could feel the heat rushing through her veins, sending electric sensations through every cell in her body.

His hands cupped her face, his fingers splaying out over her cheeks as he deepened the kiss. His tongue played cat and mouse with hers, teasing and taunting hers to fight back. She flicked her tongue against his, doing her own little teasing routine, delighting in the way he groaned in the back of his throat and brought his pelvis hard against hers. She felt the hard ridge of him, the pressure of his blood building as his desire for her escalated.

‘Relax for me, querida,’ he whispered against the skin of her neck.

THE PLAYBOYS OF ARGENTINA

Introducing the untameable Valquez brothers…

The Valquez brothers are living legends.

Alejandro’s business prowess is staggering, Luiz’s success on the polo field is unparalleled, and their reputations in the bedroom are scandalous!

But they’re both about to face their biggest challenge yet…

Alejandro must marry— but he never anticipated desiring his convenient wife!

And notorious playboy Luiz finds his match in the delectably innocent Daisy Wyndham!

You won’t want to miss this scorching new duet from Melanie Milburne!

You read Alejandro’s story in:

THE VALQUEZ BRIDE October 2014

Now read Luiz’s story in:

THE VALQUEZ SEDUCTION November 2014

The Valquez Seduction
Melanie Milburne

www.millsandboon.co.uk

From as soon as MELANIE MILBURNE could pick up a pen she knew she wanted to write. It was when she picked up her first Mills & Boon® at seventeen that she realised she wanted to write romance. Distracted for a few years by meeting marrying her own handsome hero, surgeon husband Steve, and having two boys, plus completing a Masters of Education and becoming a nationally ranked athlete (masters swimming), she decided to write. Five submissions later she sold her first book and is now a multi-published, bestselling, award-winning USA TODAY author. In 2008 she won the Australian Readers’ Association most popular category/series romance and in 2011 she won the prestigious Romance Writers of Australia R*BY award.

Melanie loves to hear from her readers via her website,

www.melaniemilburne.com.au, or on Facebook: www.facebook.com/pages/Melanie-Milburne/351594482609

To Fiona Lowe, who is always at the end of the phone to talk me down from the ledge!

Thanks for your warm and supportive friendship. XXX

Contents

Cover

Introduction

The Playboys of Argentina

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

IT ONLY TOOK Daisy Wyndham three and a half blocks to shake off her father’s bodyguard. She grinned as she joined her two teaching friends inside the Las Vegas hot spot nightclub where they planned to kick off their half-term holiday before the winter school term in London resumed. ‘See?’ She high-fived Belinda and then Kate. ‘I told you I’d make it before the first round of drinks. That’s a new record too. It usually takes me at least five blocks to lose Bruno when I’m abroad.’

Kate, recently appointed to teach Year Three, handed her a glass of champagne with a frown pleating her brow. ‘Is this going to happen every night we’re here on holiday?’

Belinda from Grade Four rolled her eyes. ‘I did warn you, Kate. Travelling abroad with Daze means excess baggage in the shape of a big hairy scary guy carrying a concealed weapon. Get used to it. It ain’t going to change any time soon.’

‘Oh, yes it is.’ Daisy set her posture in a determined line. ‘I’m sick of being treated like a little kid. I’m plenty old enough to take care of myself. And this holiday is the perfect chance to prove it.’

Once and for all.

Her father would have to get over it. She wanted to live her life the way she wanted to live it. Not be answerable to her dad, who thought she was still twelve years old.

‘Why’s your dad so protective anyway?’ Kate asked.

Daisy took a sip of her drink before she answered. She hadn’t told anyone of her father’s former and thankfully brief connection with the underworld. It was far easier to pretend he was overly protective because she once went missing for half an hour as a child. That her disappearance had been nothing more than a case of her hiding from her mother behind a rack of dresses in Marks and Spencer was beside the point. ‘My dad watches too many scary movies. He thinks as soon as I step foot in a foreign country someone is going to kidnap me and demand a ransom.’

Kate raised her brows. ‘I realised you came from money but—’

‘Pots and pots of money.’ Belinda held her glass out for a refill. ‘You should see her dad’s estate in Surrey. Massive. He has villas in Italy and the South of France too. I didn’t realise being an accountant could be so lucrative. Maybe I should’ve done that instead of teaching.’

Daisy chewed the edge of her lower lip. She had always believed her father’s wealth was gained through hard work and discipline, building up his London accounting firm from scratch. She still believed it…sort of. How could she believe anything else? He was a loving dad who consecrated the ground she walked on. So what if he had once done a teensy weensy accounting job for a Mafia boss? That didn’t make him a criminal. He had assured her it had been years and years ago and there was no reason to be worried now, although why he insisted she have top level security at her flat and always travel abroad with a bodyguard did make her feel a smidgeon of disquiet if she were to be perfectly honest. But that was something she had always put up with because it was easier than arguing with him about it. Arguing with her father was an exhausting and pointless exercise, which her mother, Rose, had found out the hard way when she’d tried to divorce him.

‘If you’ve got so much family money why bother teaching?’ Kate asked.

‘I love teaching,’ Daisy said, thinking of her kindergarten class with their sunny and earnest little faces. ‘The kids are so innocent and—’

Belinda gave a half snort, half laugh as she wiped up a dribble of bubbles off the side of her glass with her fingertip. ‘Yeah, like you.’

Daisy sent her a mock glower. ‘Just because I’m technically still a virgin doesn’t mean—’

‘Technically?’ Kate frowned in puzzlement. ‘What? You mean you haven’t actually slept with a guy?’

Here we go, Daisy silently groaned. Why was being a virgin such an oddity these days? Plenty of girls didn’t sleep around. What about Amish girls? Or girls from other religious persuasions? Nuns, for instance. Anyway, having an overprotective father was like being raised in a convent. He’d practically strip-searched every suitor she’d ever had. He did background checks on them too. It was beyond embarrassing. Which was how she had ended up twenty-six years old without having done the deed.

But this holiday was going to change all that. Or so she hoped. Away from her father’s watchful eye, she would be able to stretch her dating wings. Flirt a little. Relax instead of being uptight about the whole process in case her father suddenly appeared, waving a warrant for her date’s arrest.

‘Not yet,’ Daisy said. ‘But I’m not going to do it just for the sake of it. I want it to mean something. I want it to mean something for the guy too.’

‘I hate to be the one to tell you this but you’re unlikely to find your soulmate in Vegas,’ Kate said.

‘Don’t feel too sorry for her,’ Belinda said with a naughty grin. ‘Our Daze has a toy. I gave it to her when we did Secret Santa with the staff at school last year. Didn’t I, Daze?’

Daisy laughed it off but she hated that she still blushed over that wretched sex toy. She’d only taken it out of the box a few times… OK, well, maybe more than a few times. Truth be told, she hadn’t put it back in the box. It was currently in her make-up bag in her hotel room because she hadn’t wanted her new nosy flatmate to find it in her bedside drawer while she was away. Anyway, it had an absolutely brilliant massage attachment that was really handy when her neck or shoulders got tense.

‘Hey, check out two o’clock.’ Belinda jerked her head towards the right hand end of the bar. ‘The guy standing next to the girl in the dress that looks like aluminium foil. Do you know who it is?’

Daisy studied the tall black-haired man leaning indolently against the bar as he chatted to a young woman dressed in a tight sheath of a shimmering dress that clung to every curve of her supermodel-perfect body. The man’s open-necked shirt was startlingly white against his deep tan and his eyes were so dark they looked as black as molasses. His hair was long enough to curl against his collar and was tousled, as if he’d not long tumbled out of bed or run his hands through it, or both. His mouth was nothing short of mesmerising. A sculptured sensual curve surrounded by a day or two of dense black stubble, the top lip curved upwards in a smile that looked more cynical than amused, and a bottom lip that hinted at a dangerously healthy sexual appetite. In spite of the heat in the crowded nightclub Daisy felt an involuntary shiver run over her flesh. ‘No, who is it?’

‘Luiz Valquez,’ Belinda said. ‘He’s a famous Argentinian champion polo player. He’s nicknamed in the press as the king of one-night stands. There’s not a playboy out there who can change partners as fast as he does. He’s practically turned it into a sport. Talk about smoking-hot.’

Hot wasn’t even close, Daisy thought. She hadn’t seen a man who looked anywhere near as heart-stoppingly handsome as him. He looked like one of those male magazine models, the ones who advertised designer eyewear or expensive aftershave. Oozing testosterone and sex appeal. Simmering with sensual energy that radiated out from him in soundless waves. She couldn’t seem to drag her gaze back to her friends. It was glued to the man as if invisible wires had tethered her eyeballs. There was something about him that was so…hypnotic. Captivating. It wasn’t just his staggeringly gorgeous good looks. There was something about his aura of supreme confidence she found intensely intriguing. She could see it in the arrogant tilt of his head, the hawk-like blade of his nose, the sharply intelligent gaze. It was as if he knew he was in command of the room and was biding his time to demonstrate it.

‘Stop drooling, Daze,’ Belinda said. ‘He doesn’t associate with mere mortals like us. He only ever dates supermodels or Hollywood starlets.’

Daisy was about to look away when he suddenly turned his head and his dark-as-night eyes met hers across the crowded nightclub. An electric jolt shot through her as his black brows lifted in blatant male appraisal. A hot spurting sensation arrowed between her legs and she almost fell off the bar stool she was perched on. She quickly crossed her legs but his gaze followed her right thigh as it hooked over her left one. Then his gaze came up ever so lazily the whole length of her body from ankle to hip, from her waist to her breasts, stalled there for a pulse-thundering pause, before coming up to her mouth.

He paused again. Longer this time.

Daisy felt her lips burn as if he had pressed a hot brand to them via his sexily hooded gaze. He then moved his gaze from her mouth to do a leisurely sweep of her chestnut hair, which she had bundled into a half-up, half-down do that framed her face and brushed her shoulders at the same time.

Then he came back to her eyes.

Daisy had heard the expression ‘time stood still’ many times. She had even used it on occasion. She knew it wasn’t logically possible but this time it really did stop. She felt it. It was as if every clock in the nightclub, every clock on every smartphone, every watch on every wrist shuddered and then stopped.

Tick. Tock. Stop.

Belinda snapped her fingers in front of Daisy’s face. ‘Earth to Daze.’

‘Oh, my God.’ Kate nudged Daisy in the ribs. ‘He’s coming over!’

Daisy sat with her heart pounding like a piston in an engine long overdue for a service. Her skin felt tingly all over. She could even feel the backs of her knees fizzing like sherbet trickled into a glass of soda. She felt giddy. She had to grip the edge of the bar with one of her hands to stop from tumbling to the floor in an ungainly heap.

She couldn’t remember a time when a man had looked at her like…like that. As if she was the only woman in the room. As if he could see through her little black dress to the black bra and lacy knickers she was wearing underneath. As if he could see how her body was responding to him of its own volition, as if he had cast some kind of magic spell over her. It was shocking and yet somehow wickedly thrilling to feel as if she had no control over her body or her senses. It was as if the universe had heard a whisper of her desire to step out of her good girl shoes and was offering her up the most tempting bad boy man on the planet. No man had ever singled her out in such a brazenly sexual way. No man had ever triggered such a primal need in her. It pumped through her body like a potent steroid, making her aware of every inch of her flesh.

As he walked across the dance floor Daisy was reminded of Moses parting the Red Sea. Not that this particular Moses would be taking any notice of the Ten Commandments, she thought wryly. He had probably broken every one of them before breakfast. She watched as people stepped back in unison like a standing Mexican wave, and even the strobe lighting seemed to highlight his progress as if his coming over to speak to her was the main event of the evening.

He came and stood in front of her, so close her crossed over right knee was almost touching his trouser zip. Her kneecap began to twitch, the nerves beneath the skin doing frantic little somersaults at the thought of brushing against that hard and potent male body.

His mouth curved upwards in a smile so arrantly sexy it should have had an Adults Only rating. ‘Hola.’

Daisy practically melted into a pool of molten wax at his feet when she heard his deep baritone voice greet her in his native tongue. Spanish was delightful to hear from just about anyone’s mouth but never more so than from an Argentinian’s. The influences on Argentina from large migrations of Italians in the nineteenth century gave the accent in some regions an Italian flair that was as lyrical as music. But reading such information in a travel guide hadn’t prepared her for the real thing.

She sat spellbound and speechless for five full seconds as the sound of his voice moved its way through her body like a seductive caress. She felt a slow blush creep over her cheeks and finally managed to get her voice to come out of her throat. It was a little mortifying it came out like a mouse squeak, but still… ‘Hi…erm…hello.’

Luiz Valquez’s eyes were even darker up close. She couldn’t find his pupils in that glinting sea of bottomless black. His mouth was even more tempting now she could see its contours so intimately. His philtrum running down from beneath his nose was so well defined she could have placed her pinkie fingertip in the dish between the stubble-coated lines. She curled her fingers into her hand to stop from actually doing so. The force field of his body was so strong she felt like a microscopic iron filing in front of an industrial strength magnet. Pull. Pull. Pull. It was all she could do to remain upright on the bar stool.

‘Would you like to dance?’ He asked the question in English but with that distinctive accent wrapped around every word it made her spine feel as if someone was unbolting each vertebra.

But the confidence and self-assurance she had admired just a moment before now began to annoy her. He expected her to say yes. Kate and Belinda expected her to say yes. The whole nightclub crowd expected her to say yes.

Physically she wanted to say yes, but her rational mind snapped back to attention like a soldier clicking his heels in front of a drill sergeant. The one thing she loathed in a potential date was cocksure arrogance. Who the hell did he think he was? He could go and crook his little finger someplace else. If and when she got involved with someone it would be with someone who had the decency to treat her as an equal, not like some desperate little sports star groupie looking for a quick trophy shag.

‘No.’ Daisy softened it with a brief smile that didn’t show her teeth. ‘Thanks anyway.’

Something in his pitch-black eyes sharpened. His nostrils widened as if taking up the challenge of getting her to change her mind privately excited him. His charming smile, however, didn’t falter. ‘You’re with someone?’

‘No…I mean yes. My friends from school. The school I teach at. We teach at. In London.’ Daisy pointed at her friends, only to find they weren’t there. They had slipped off the bar stools next to hers and were currently dancing on the dance floor with two men she’d seen them chatting to as she’d come in from shaking off her bodyguard.

Thanks a bunch, girls.

He followed the line of her gaze. ‘They look like they’re having fun.’

What did he mean? That she wasn’t? That she was too strait-laced and uptight to have a good time? She might not be used to colouring outside the lines but she had her crayons sharpened. But she was going to use them on someone a little less self-assured than him. ‘Yes, they are.’ Her chin went up. ‘So am I.’

The meshing of his brown-black gaze with her blue one felt like a taser shock to her system. Her whole body reacted with a zinging fizz that whizzed through her blood like a missile. ‘Is this your first time?’

Daisy felt her blush spread a little further until her whole body felt as if it was being engulfed by fire. How could he know that? How could he possibly know that? ‘Erm…in Vegas, you mean?’

His slow smile tilted the side of his mouth. It tilted her stomach as well, like a paper boat on a tidal wave. ‘Sí.’

Oh, God, please don’t keep speaking in Spanish or I will sleep with you. Here. On the floor right in front of everyone. ‘It’s my first time to the US, and yes, to Vegas as well.’

‘What do you think of it so far?’

Daisy kept her gaze locked on his, not that she had any choice in the matter. Her eyes weren’t responding to the message from her brain to stop staring at him like a star-struck fan in front of a Hollywood superstar. ‘It’s bold and brash and in-your-face. Vegas, I mean. Not the States in general. I haven’t been anywhere else except LA and that was only when we landed at the airport.’

‘Did you fly or drive down?’

‘We came by bus.’

His half smile was still doing weird and exciting things to her insides. His smell was doing equally weird and exciting things to her senses. His citrus-based cologne had grace notes of a rain-washed cypress pine forest that was powerfully intoxicating. For a tiny moment Daisy wondered if she’d done the wrong thing in knocking back his offer of a dance. She was supposed to be fluttering her flirting wings. What better way to get off the ground than with a bad boy who did nothing but flirt and have fun? But then she saw the anticipatory glint in his eyes. He thought he had her in the bag—erm, bed. Damn him.

‘How long are you staying in Vegas?’ he asked.

‘Four days.’

His eyes moved over her face again, as if memorising her features. He lingered a little too long on her mouth, making her itch to send out her tongue to moisten her lips. Daisy had never been more conscious of her body language. She knew it had the potential to contradict every word she said. If it hadn’t already.

‘If you change your mind about that dance I’ll be over there.’ He jerked his head towards the area of the bar he had come from.

She raised her chin again, giving him a pointed look. ‘With your date?’

He gave a negligent shrug of one of his broad shoulders. ‘She’s someone I just met.’

‘And will sleep with just the once before you move on to the next candidate?’

His smile widened. ‘You’ve heard about me?’

Daisy gave him the sort of look she would give one of the naughtiest boys in her kindergarten class. ‘It’s not a reputation to be proud of. Sleeping your way around the world with a bunch of nameless women you’ll never see again.’

His eyes glinted wickedly. ‘It’s a tough gig but someone’s got to have the stamina to do it.’

Do it. The words triggered a flood of erotic thoughts to her mind. Him doing it. Her doing it. With him. Their naked bodies wrapped together, his hair-roughened thighs entrapping hers, his hands cupping her breasts, touching her in that secret valley between her thighs.

Daisy suppressed a whole body shudder, somehow keeping her features in her best haughty schoolmistress mask. But, looking at his dancing black eyes, she suspected he knew exactly the effect he was having on her. It was the same effect he had on any woman with a pulse. He was utterly gorgeous. Über-sexy. Terrifyingly irresistible.

She gave him another one of her stiff on-off smiles to disguise the torment of temptation currently assailing her. ‘Will you excuse me? I’m falling behind my friends in the having-a-good-time stakes.’

He didn’t move a millimetre, which meant she had to sidle down off the stool and brush past his tall muscle-packed frame. The shock of his body against hers was like coming into contact with an electric fence. She glanced up at the laughing gleam of his gaze and another fiery blush swept over her entire body.

‘A word of advice before you go.’

Daisy pursed her lips. ‘Go on.’ If you must. She didn’t say that bit out loud. She didn’t need to. Her folded arms and rolled eyes said it for her.

He pointed to the drink she had left behind. ‘Don’t leave your drinks unattended.’

She gave him an irritated glance. How galling to have him point out her oversight. It made her feel all the more foolish and gauche. ‘I have been out at night before.’

‘Maybe, but some of the nightclubs along the strip have had a problem with drink spiking. Better to be safe than sorry.’

‘I know how to take care of myself.’

His eyes had the most annoying habit of staring at her mouth, which made her want to stare at his. She fought the impulse but within a heartbeat her gaze had tracked to the sensual seam that was no longer smiling but set in more serious lines. For some reason it made him even more stop-the-traffic gorgeous. She drew in a breath that felt as if it had thumbtacks attached. The ear-throbbing music faded into the background. The sweaty, gyrating crowd on the dance floor might have been in another state for all the notice she took of them. In spite of all the competing aftershaves and expensive perfumes, she could still smell him. The sharp fresh tang of his cologne was imprinted in her brain and she knew she would never be able to walk past a cypress pine without wanting to hug it. It was a shame he was so arrogant. A little fling with someone like him would have been fun to talk about with the girls when she got home.

But a one-night stand?

Out of the question.

Daisy gave him an arch look. ‘Do I have lipstick on my teeth or something?’

‘Why don’t you smile so I can check?’

She pressed her lips together. Where was a naughty step when you needed one? ‘Why did you come over to talk to me?’

His eyes twinkled as they held hers. ‘I saw you staring at me.’

‘I wasn’t staring!’ Daisy spluttered. ‘My friends pointed you out and I merely glanced at you to see if I recognised you, which I didn’t. Sorry if that upsets your ego.’ She wasn’t one bit sorry.

A hint of a smile still lurked in the black ink of his eyes. ‘It doesn’t.’

‘No, I imagine not.’ She knew she sounded ridiculously prim but she couldn’t seem to help it. The words kept coming out in a steady stream—sounding scarily like Miss Edith Cassidy, her starchy soon-to-retire headmistress. ‘I expect you’re used to young women the world over dropping into a swoon when they see you but I’m not one to be impressed by outward appearances.’

‘What does impress you?’

Daisy paused as she thought about it. ‘Erm…’

He leaned back against the bar and crossed one ankle over the other as if prepared to settle in for the night. ‘Money?’

She frowned. ‘Of course not.’

His mouth curved in a cynical arc. ‘What, then?’

‘Manners. Intellect. Morality.’

His smile became an amused chuckle. ‘An old-fashioned girl hanging out in Vegas. Who would’ve thought?’

Daisy was sure she would have permanent lines around her mouth from all the lip-pursing she was doing. ‘Were you born naturally obnoxious or is it something you’ve worked on over the years?’

He pushed himself away from the bar and ran an idle fingertip down the length of her bare arm from her shoulder to her wrist, still with that mocking smile curving his mouth. ‘Save the last dance for me, querida.’

Daisy gave him a withering look as she brushed past him to join her friends, ‘Dream on.’

* * *

Luiz decided to leave the nightclub at 3:00 a.m. He’d lost sight of the English girl when he’d stopped to chat to someone he knew on the polo circuit. By the time he’d turned around again she had disappeared. He refused to acknowledge the strange little pit of disappointment in his belly. Easy come, easy go. There were plenty of other girls he could pick up if he could be bothered.

He wasn’t sure what it was about her that fascinated him so much. She wasn’t his usual type with her girl-next-door looks and prim goody-two-shoes manner. But her chestnut hair had highlights that shone like spun gold and her darkly lashed intensely blue eyes reminded him of the Aegean Sea. Her skin had that roses and cream bloom young English women were famous for and her mouth was generous and full, suggesting a passionate nature behind the haughty I’m-too-good-for-the-likes-of-you air she affected.

He’d spent most of the evening watching her watching him. It amused him to see her try and disguise her interest. Hiding behind a drink she barely touched or the shoulder of one of her friends. Pretending to be having a good time when clearly the nightclub scene was not her usual stomping ground. For all that she’d dressed for the part in a little black dress and high heels, she looked out of place. She reminded him of Bambi pretending to be Barbarella.

Luiz walked back to his hotel room alone. He’d had plenty of offers he could have taken up but for once he wasn’t in the mood. He was still shaking off the jet lag from when he’d flown in from Argentina, where he’d spent some time with his older brother and his new wife, Teddy. Seeing his brother so happy had triggered a restless feeling he couldn’t block out with endless partying. It used to be just him and Alejandro. They were a team. The playboy Valquez brothers, notorious the world over for having a good time. Women flocked to them wherever they went.

Now Luiz was on his own, wandering around the globe in search of the next victory on the polo field. Trophy after trophy lined the bookshelves at his villa—the villa he only ever visited when the polo schedule allowed. He lived out of an overnight bag; he didn’t stay long enough in one place to warrant a suitcase. He checked in and checked out of hotels like he checked in and out of relationships. One-night stands were his speciality. What was the point of hanging around for someone to do the check out on you? He had seen his mother do that to his father. He had seen his brother suffer the public humiliation of being jilted at the altar ten years ago. Sure, Alejandro was happy now, and Teddy seemed like a top sort of girl, but that sort of commitment wasn’t for him.

No one was ever going to have the power to hurt him. Again.

Luiz was five doors away from his suite when he saw her—the English girl with the cut-glass accent. She was with a man who was leading her by the hand towards a room on the other side further down the corridor. However, something about the little tableau didn’t seem right. The English girl was not steady on her feet and her blue eyes were no longer clear and bright but glazed and disoriented.

‘What are you looking at?’ the man with her snarled at Luiz.

Luiz glanced at the English girl. ‘Are you all right, querida?’

The girl looked at him vacantly, her head lolling to one side. ‘I need to go to bed…’

‘In here, sugar,’ the man said as he shouldered open his door.

Luiz put his arm across the door jamb like a blockade. ‘You want me to call the cops or will you let her go quietly?’

The man breathed alcohol fumes over Luiz’s face. ‘She wants to be with me. She said so earlier.’

Luiz wanted to punch the man’s teeth into the back of his preppy pretty boy head. ‘She’s not capable of saying anything and you damn well know it. Did you do this to her? Give her something in her drink to make her come with you?’

The man gave him a cool it look. ‘Hey, man, what’s your problem? Is she yours or something?’

Luiz felt a sour taste come up in his mouth. Anger came up with it, moving through his body like a bloated tide. What sort of man treated a woman like a toy they could pick up off a shelf? You do, a little voice piped up. He brushed aside the pricking arrow of his conscience and directed his ire where it belonged right now. ‘I’m going to ask you again. Did you do this to her?’

The man’s eyes darted either side of the corridor. ‘Is this a sting or something? Are you undercover?’

Luiz grabbed the man by the throat and pushed him back against the wall so hard all the pictures hanging along the corridor rattled in their frames. ‘I’m going to give you three minutes to check out of this hotel. After that I’m calling the cops. Got it?’

The man swallowed against the heel of Luiz’s hand. ‘I didn’t do it. It was my mate. He said it wouldn’t hurt her. He put a few extra shots of vodka in her drink when she wasn’t looking. I wanted her to loosen up a bit. She was acting all stuck-up. Said she wasn’t interested, but I know she was. They all are in Vegas. That’s why they’re here. To have a good time.’

Luiz bared his teeth like a wolf against a rival. ‘You come anywhere near her again and I’ll make sure you’re sipping your meals through a straw for the rest of your life. Understood?’

The man nodded as he rubbed at his throat, slinking away like a cowed animal until he disappeared into one of the elevators.

Luiz muttered a curse and bent down to where the English girl had slumped to the floor. He touched the side of her creamy cheek with a light fingertip. She was a ghastly shade of white and her skin was clammy but her breathing was normal. ‘Are you staying in house?’ he asked.

She blinked owlishly at him. ‘Have we met before?’

‘Briefly.’

She cocked her head and narrowed her gaze as if trying to place him. ‘You look kind of familiar…’

‘Your room number?’ he prompted.

Her smooth brow wrinkled for a moment as he helped her to her feet. Luiz tried not to notice the way the skin of her hand felt against his, soft as the petals of a magnolia.

‘I think it has a seven in it.’ She gave him a bright smile. ‘That’s my lucky number. I once won a day spa package in a raffle we had at school. It was so relaxing I didn’t want to leave. It was the first time I had a Brazilian. Belinda talked me into it. It hurt like hell. Funny thing is I get them all the time now. I guess my pain threshold has risen or something. Normally I’m the biggest coward out. I cry when I take a plaster off. It’s pathetic.’ Her dazzling smile faded a little as she added, ‘I blame it on losing my mother so young. She died in an accident when I was ten…’

‘I’m sorry to hear that—’

‘My father never remarried,’ she went on as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘I thought he would replace her as soon as he could, but no. He never did. Not that he hasn’t had lovers. He’s had lots and lots of them. No one ever likes to think of their parents doing it, do they? It’s gross. My dad is over sixty. I mean, what is he thinking? Isn’t it time to put his tackle away and have a rest?’

‘I guess boys will be boys, no matter what their age.’

She gave him another angled look. ‘Am I keeping you from something? Someone?’

‘No.’

‘No hot date?’

‘Sadly, no.’

She scrunched up her forehead again. ‘Why not?’

‘I asked a girl to dance with me but she turned me down.’

She made a sympathetic sound. ‘Oh, poor you. Were you terribly crushed?’

‘Irreparably.’

She put a hand on his arm, sending a shock of electricity straight to his groin. ‘Never mind. I’m sure you’ll find someone some day. I think there’s a soulmate out there for each of us. We just have to be patient and wait until the planets align. Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself.’

Luiz momentarily lost his train of thought as he looked at the soft and generous bow of her mouth. Her lips were still glossy from a recent coating of lipgloss, making them look even more luscious and tempting. He could smell the flowery scent she wore, a mixture of gardenia and honeysuckle that teased his nostrils and made him think of sultry summer nights. ‘How much did you have to drink?’ he asked.

‘Hardly anything. I’m not a big drinker. I talk too much when I have wine. I guess that’s why it’s called truth serum, huh? In vino veritas. That’s Latin, by the way. The truth is in the wine.’ She gave him another megawatt smile. ‘That’s why I stuck to vodka. One shot with orange juice and I didn’t even get to finish it because I was too busy dancing. Did you see me? It was awesome. I’ve never been able to do the Macarena before.’

Luiz felt like a parent handling a wayward teenager after a night out on the town. ‘Do you have your room key with you?’

She fished around in her purse, her brow doing that little crinkly thing again, her teeth embedded in her lower lip. After a fruitless search she dropped her purse and reached inside the left hand cup of her bra and handed him a card key with another broad smile. ‘I knew I put it somewhere safe.’

Luiz could feel the heat of her breast on the card. His fingers moved over its surface in a stroking manner as he locked gazes with her. ‘This card isn’t from this hotel. Do you know which one you’re staying at?’

She wrinkled her nose like a child refusing to eat spinach. ‘I don’t want to go there. This is much nicer.’

‘Do you know where you are? What floor you’re on?’

She gave him a vampish look, batting her impossibly long eyelashes coquettishly. ‘I’m on your floor.’

He ignored the wanton come-on in her gaze on principle. He could have any woman he wanted. He didn’t have to resort to drunk or stoned ones. He might be considered an irascible rake but even he had some standards. ‘Listen, querida, you need to lie flat in a dark room until you sober up.’

She pushed her lush mouth out in a pout. ‘I’m not drunk. Look, I can walk in a straight line.’ She tottered off along the corridor, arms out wide to stabilise her passage. She turned and came back towards him but the fourth step was her undoing. Her legs suddenly tangled and she came down in a heap and would have fallen badly if not for him catching her in time.

He gathered her slim body in his arms, trying not to notice the sweet cinnamon of her breath on his face as she snuggled up close with her arms flung around his neck. ‘I’m soooo tired…’ She gave a huge yawn and dropped her head against the wall of his chest and closed her eyes with a soft little sigh.

He gave her a gentle shake. ‘Hey, you didn’t tell me your name.’

She made another soft purring sound and burrowed closer to his chest. ‘Need to sleep now…’

Luiz caught sight of himself carrying his rescued damsel in one of the gilt mirrors hanging above the hall table. Her shiny shoulder-length hair was swaying loose in a soft cloud over one of his arms, tickling the skin where he had rolled back the cuffs of his shirt. Her conservative black dress had ridden up, revealing slim legs and thoroughbred-narrow ankles, and a soft dreamy smile curved her mouth as her cheek settled against the steady beat of his heart as if she had finally found home.

He let out a low rough expletive. ‘Now what, Sir Galahad?’

CHAPTER TWO

DAISY WOKE WITH a construction site hammering inside her head. Her mouth felt as if she had been sucking on a gym sock all night and her stomach was churning so fast it could have spat out pats of butter.

She cranked open one eye to find herself in a plush penthouse suite instead of her budget book-three-nights-get-one-free hotel room. Chandeliers dripped from the high ceiling in a waterfall of sparkling and twinkling crystal. The walls were papered in a luxurious satin-embossed two-toned stripe that was unapologetically masculine and yet opulently stylish. The lighting was softly muted but she could see a sliver of bright sunlight through the gap in the brocade curtains, suggesting it was well past dawn. The acre of carpet looked so thick she was sure if she took one step on it she would be knee-deep. Maybe neck-deep. The pillows behind her were as soft as clouds and the sheets that covered her naked body were super-fine Egyptian cotton.

Her stomach swooped. Naked body? She lifted the sheet and peeked beneath it. Eek! She’d had sex with someone? No. Not possible. Not in a million squillion years. She was not the type of girl to go to bed with a stranger. She hadn’t even gone to bed with a friend. Flirting was one thing. Sharing her body with someone was something else again. But why on earth would she be naked in bed if she hadn’t?

No. No. No.

Surely she hadn’t. Had she? She pressed her legs together. Nope. Doesn’t feel any different. She checked her breasts for any love bites. Scrambled up onto her knees to glance in the mirror to see if her neck had any signs of foreplay.

Nothing.

The door of the bedroom opened and Daisy choked out a shocked gasp and quickly cupped her hands over her breasts as Luiz Valquez with his laughing black eyes entered the room. ‘You?’

He gave a mock formal bow. ‘At your service, mi pasión.’

His…passion? Double eek! Daisy dived under the sheets, pulling them right up to her chin. Oh, dear God. What had she done? Or, more to the point… What had he done? Anger came to her rescue, filling her voice with fulminating rage. ‘Where are my clothes?’

The half-smile that tilted his mouth had a glint of devilry about it. ‘Where you left them.’

Her eyes widened in horror. Had he—gulp—stripped her? Stolen her clothes? Was she to be sold into sex slavery? Never to be heard from again? Where was her damn bodyguard when she needed him? She threw Luiz a combative glare, determined not to show how terrified she was. ‘I won’t let you get away with this. You don’t know who you’re dealing with. I have connections that could wipe the floor with you.’

He had the gall to chuckle. ‘You mean those two travelling companions of yours?’

Daisy felt her flesh shrink on her bones. Oh, dear Lord. What if Belinda and Kate had been kidnapped as well? Were all three of them to be shipped off to some ghastly foreign hellhole where disgusting men would paw and slaver over them? She could already see the headlines. Three London Infant Teachers: Tragic Victims of International Sex Slave Ring. ‘Wh-what about them?’

His dark eyes gave nothing away other than amusement. ‘They weren’t the least bit interested in coming to your rescue.’

She narrowed her gaze to slits. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I asked them to fetch you from my suite last night but they refused.’

Daisy shot him a look of pure venom. ‘I don’t believe you. They would never leave me to fend for myself.’ Hmm, maybe Belinda would. ‘Anyway, how did you contact them? You didn’t have their numbers or names.’

He inspected his square and buffed nails in a casual manner. ‘I sent a staff member to find them. Apparently they were too busy with their dates to come and collect you.’ He looked at her again and added, ‘Their message to you was—and I quote—“Have fun”.’

I am so going to kill you, Belinda.

Daisy huddled further up the bank of pillows under her shroud of luxury sheets. He looked so…so unlike a sexual predator. He was too sophisticated. Too clock-stopping handsome. Why would he have to resort to kidnap when he could crook his little finger and have any woman he wanted? Except you, she thought as she recalled her haughty rejection of him in the bar. She swallowed to clear the ropey knot of part dread, part excitement currently clogging her throat. She had spent the night with one of the world’s most notorious bad boys. How had he changed her mind? And why couldn’t she remember a single second of it? ‘What happened last night?’

He hooked an ink-black eyebrow upwards. ‘You don’t remember?’

She frantically hunted through her memory but it was like rifling through a file that hadn’t been organised properly. Nothing made sense. She could only remember watching him for most of the night, feeling annoyed he was never without a partner. He seemed to be flaunting them before her every time she looked at him, doing raunchy dance moves with an array of nubile young women.

It was nauseating.

Daisy had staunchly remained a wallflower—her default position—until a compatriot from Ealing had asked her to dance. She hadn’t really wanted to dance with him but she must have changed her mind for she remembered being on the dance floor and at one point cannoning into Luiz. The shockwave of touching his hard male body had sent her senses spinning like a top. His dark eyes had run over her partner in a sizing up look and his top lip had curled as if to say, Is that the best you could do? But after that her memory was a blank.

She gave him a caustic glare. ‘Why did you bring me here?’

He sent his gaze over her in a long lazy sweep. ‘You can’t guess?’

In spite of her trepidation, Daisy felt every pore of her skin flower open in response. Heat rushed along her veins, lighting a fire that fanned out from her core. Damn the man for being so attractive. How shameful of her to be so turned on by such a fiend. No wonder her father thought she needed a bodyguard. Clearly she was a ticking time bomb when left to her own devices. One night let loose on the town and she hooked up with the world’s most wicked playboy. ‘Did you—’ she swallowed tightly again ‘—undress me?’

His expression was now deadpan. ‘No.’

Daisy looked at him blankly. ‘Then who did?’

‘You did.’

Her eyes were so wide with shock they felt as if they were going to pop out of her head. She hadn’t been naked in front of anyone since she was twelve. She was twenty-six years old and she still got dressed under a towel at the gym. Body issues had plagued her since she hit puberty. Small breasts, a jelly belly if she didn’t do a hundred sit-ups a day and thighs that had a tendency to look like cottage cheese if she didn’t stick to her diet of cottage cheese. ‘I don’t believe you.’

A glimmer of a smile came back in his eyes. ‘I thought you said you were a teacher. Where did you learn the stripper routine?’

‘You’re lying!’ she choked. ‘I would never do something like that!’

‘It was the best lap dance I’ve ever had and I didn’t even have to tip for it.’

Daisy felt a blush move over her face like a flame let loose beneath her skin. ‘I don’t believe you. You’re making this up.’ You must be. You have to be.

He shrugged as if he didn’t give a damn either way. ‘You want some breakfast before you leave?’

Daisy frowned in a combination of confusion and an inexplicable sense of disappointment. He was letting her go? ‘You mean you’re not going to keep me here chained to the bed to have your wicked way with me?’

Those sinfully dark eyes roved over her huddled form once more, sending another wave of heat to her core. ‘Thanks, but no.’

She knew it was inconsistent of her to feel slighted but surely she hadn’t been that much of a flop in bed? Sure, she might have been unconscious, but still… ‘Fine. I’m leaving.’ She scrambled off the bed, taking the sheet with her. ‘If you’ll lead me to my clothes I’ll be right on my way.’

‘They’re on the coffee table near the sofa. I took the liberty of having them cleaned while you were sleeping.’

Daisy swung around to face him, a dangerous manoeuvre given she was mummy-wrapped in one of his sheets. She would have gone over except one of his hands shot out to steady her. It was warm and strong against her flesh, his fingers like velvet-covered steel. Something flashed through her brain…a vague memory of strong arms holding her close. Protectively close. Fresh-smelling laundry detergent and lemon-scented male flesh close to her face. A rock-steady heartbeat. A sense of being carried to safety… She frowned to bring the memory closer but it floated away like an apparition that no longer wanted to be seen.

She craned her head right back to look into his eyes, her stomach folding over at the satirical gleam that permanently shone there. ‘Why did you do that?’

‘Have your clothes cleaned?’

‘Yes.’

‘Seemed the right thing to do under the circumstances.’

‘What…erm, circumstances?’

His mouth had that half smiling slant to it again. ‘After the lap dance you had an episode of dispensing with the contents of your stomach in my bathroom. Unfortunately, your aim was off.’

Oh, dear Lord above. Could this nightmare get any worse? ‘I was…sick?’

‘Spectacularly so.’

Daisy chewed her lower lip, desperately trying not to picture how that might have played out. No one looked their best when being sick. But it was the ultimate humiliation to have disgraced herself in front of him. He was so self-assured. So suave. How he must have gloated over her misfortune after the way she had rejected his offer of a dance. He couldn’t have asked for a better comeuppance for her. She had been so dismissive of his warning the night before. Arrogant even. How had she been so stupid and trusting to let something like that happen? Ugh! She was not some silly young girl on her first night on the town. She had a university degree, for God’s sake.

She rummaged inside her purse for a handful of banknotes, thrusting them at him. ‘I’m terribly sorry for any inconvenience I’ve caused. I hope this covers the expense of…erm, seeing to my needs.’ Bleah. Bad choice of words.

He pushed her hand back with a gentle but firm pressure, his eyes locked on hers. ‘I don’t want your money.’

Daisy was having trouble concentrating. Her thoughts were flying all over the place. The energy coming from his hand where it was holding hers back was making her whole body fizz with reaction. It was like being plugged into a power outlet with too high a voltage for her sensitive wiring. She was going to short circuit for sure. He was so intensely male. So unbelievably handsome it made a hollow space inside her belly vibrate. Her eyes kept tracking to his mouth. Had he kissed her? How annoying she couldn’t remember. That was a mouth that would know how to kiss. There would be no teeth scraping and nose bumping and awkward repositioning of lips and tongues. That was a mouth that knew how to seduce, to slay her senses with one brush of those hard male lips against hers. She drew in a shaky little breath and pushed back against his hand. ‘Take it. I insist.’

He pushed back a little harder. The uptake of tension triggered something deep and low in her pelvis. She felt it between her thighs, a tight ache that was part pulse, part contraction. A frisson shimmied down her spine as his fingers wrapped around hers, tethering her to him. His hands were not smooth but slightly calloused, which was strangely arousing. His thumb found her pulse and measured its frantic pace. ‘I have plenty of money.’

Daisy gave him an imperious look to disguise the catastrophic effect he was having on her senses. ‘Is that supposed to impress me?’

A lazy smile teased up the corners of his mouth. ‘Nothing else has so far.’

She raised one of her eyebrows. ‘You mean I wasn’t left breathless and gasping by your…erm, attentions last night?’

He gave a deep chuckle, which combined with that toe-curling stroking along the thumpety-thump-thump-thump of her pulse, made her senses careen off into another tailspin. ‘Your honour was safe with me, dulzura. I didn’t lay a finger on you.’

Daisy pulled out of his hold, blinking at him in surprise. ‘Y-You didn’t?’

He shook his head with mock gravitas.

‘Why not?’

‘I prefer my women sober.’

She glared at him again, stamping her foot for good measure. ‘I was not drunk! I’ve never been intoxicated in my life.’

‘You were legless last night. Just as well I came along when I did. You were about to get down and dirty with the man in Suite 1524.’

Daisy stopped glaring at him. Another fragmented memory filtered through the haze of her brain. The guy from Ealing pressuring her to have a drink. Refusing his offer but finding he had bought her one while she had gone to the restroom. He insisting he keep her company while she drank it. She had suffered his company because she’d become so irritated with seeing Luiz Valquez working the room like Casanova with catnip. Surely a single vodka and orange wouldn’t have caused her to lose all sense of control? ‘How do you know I was going to…erm, become intimate with that guy? I might’ve just been going to his room to—’

‘Look at his etchings?’

She gave him a look. ‘Not all men have one-track minds, you know.’

He moved over every inch of her sheet-wrapped body with the smouldering heat of his gaze. ‘They do when someone looks as gorgeous as you.’

Daisy knew it was a throwaway line but she couldn’t help feeling a little thrill all the same. It wasn’t that she wasn’t used to compliments. She knew she wasn’t model-thin or billboard-beautiful but she was pretty enough in a girl-next-door sort of way. But hearing him say it made her feel all fluttery and feminine. It made her want to flirt with him, which was rather surprising as she never flirted.

She shuffled over to where her clothes were folded in a neat pile on a coffee table next to one of the plush sofas. ‘I have to get moving. The girls will be waiting for me.’ She scooped up her clothes with her free hand, turning back to glance at him. ‘Do you mind if I use your bathroom to get changed?’

His eyes had that laughing glint in them again. ‘Be my guest.’

Daisy sniffed the air in the luxuriously appointed bathroom for any trace of sickness. To her very great relief it smelt of citrus with a hint of lemongrass and ginger. She unwrapped herself from the sheet and quickly donned her clothes, her fingers tracing over the lace of her bra and knickers as she thought of Luiz handling her intimates, even to pass them over to the laundry staff. Had he put her to bed? Had he carried her or had she walked/stumbled/crawled on her own? Had he tucked her in? A shiver passed over her flesh at the thought of his hands on her naked body. Damn it. Why couldn’t she remember the most exciting moment of her life? If he hadn’t acted inappropriately given the way he said she had, then why not? Wasn’t he supposed to be a bad boy or something?

Or did he have some scruples after all?

When Daisy came out of the bathroom he was standing with his back to her, looking down at the Vegas strip in all its crazy madness. ‘Are you decent?’ he asked.

‘Hardy-ha-ha.’

He grinned as he turned around to face her. ‘Don’t you like your men with a sense of humour?’

Her men? What a laugh. If only he knew the only men in her life were her father, her bodyguard and Robert, the elderly gardener at Wyndham Heath.

Daisy was afraid she was starting to like Luiz Valquez a little too much. His uncharacteristic chivalry was potently attractive. If what he had said was true about her having been in danger of being taken advantage of by the Ealing guy, she owed him a huge debt of gratitude, not censure. Anything could have happened to her last night but he had stepped in and made sure she was safe, possibly putting himself at risk in the process. She’d had him pegged as a hard partying bad boy and yet he had acted with honour and propriety.

Had the world got it wrong about him? Or did he cash in on his racy reputation because it fitted the image of the sporting superstar? Who was he behind that mask of sophisticated playboy? If she had offered herself to him so shamelessly and he’d refused, then he must surely have far more to him than met the eye.

She held her purse in front of her stomach with both hands, suddenly feeling terribly gauche…well, even more so than usual. ‘About last night…’ she began.

‘Don’t mention it. I won’t.’ Another glinting look. ‘It can be our little secret.’

She gnawed her lip as she thought of all the thousands of followers he would have on Twitter or other social media. He could make an absolute fool of her with a couple of hash tags. What if he’d taken pictures of her without her knowing? Her stomach dropped. The stripper routine. Oh, God. What if he’d recorded it? Uploaded it? Sent it out to cyberspace. What if he blackmailed her? What if—?

He reached into his trouser pocket and handed her his phone. ‘You can check it if you like.’

Daisy stared at his phone as if it were a grenade with the pin pulled out. ‘I really don’t think that’s—’

‘Here, I’ll show you.’ He came and stood shoulder to shoulder with her, accessing the camera roll on his phone. ‘See?’

She peered at the images he was scrolling through, conscious of the way his light lemony and citrus cologne sharpened the air. She could feel the slightest brush of his hair-roughened arm against her smoother one. Her traitorous mind began assembling images of them in bed together, limbs entangled, lips locked, tongues mating. ‘Good gracious, is that a dress that girl is almost wearing?’

He gave one of his deep rumbly chuckles that sent her senses spinning all over again. ‘For a simple scrap of fabric it was damn hard to get off.’

Daisy gave him a wry glance. ‘What? She didn’t offer to help you?’

‘Can’t remember.’ He carried on thumbing through another few photos.

‘How long ago was it—erm, she?’

‘Ages ago.’ He flashed her a sudden grin. ‘A couple of weeks at least.’

Daisy rolled her eyes and then pointed to a picture on the photo stream of a slightly older woman standing next to Luiz at what looked like a cocktail party. ‘Who’s that?’

‘My mother, Eloise.’

Something about the way he said his mother’s name alerted her to an undercurrent of tension. ‘She looks very beautiful. Very glamorous. Like a movie star.’

His lips moved in the semblance of a smile. ‘Yes, she likes the spotlight, that’s for sure.’

‘You’re not close?’

He looked at her briefly, his eyes meshing with hers in a moment of silence. There was a vacancy in the back of his gaze, as if he was looking in the past for something but was having trouble finding it. ‘We were once, or so I thought.’

‘When was that?’

He clicked off the screen of his phone and slipped it back into his pocket in a subject closed manner. ‘What do you normally eat for breakfast?’

‘Well…ideally, I would eat an egg white omelette and drink a herbal tea.’

His brow lifted. ‘Ideally?’

She gave him a self-deprecating look. ‘I’m rubbish at sticking to diets. I last about three days and then I cave in and eat everything that isn’t nailed down.’

‘How does bacon and eggs, pancakes, maple syrup and a side of hash browns sound?’

Daisy swayed on her feet as if about to go into a swoon. ‘Like heaven. I’m so hungry I could eat a horse and chase the rider.’

He stood looking down at her with a gleaming look in his dark as pitch eyes. ‘I’ve heard there are some riders out there who like to do all the chasing.’

Daisy held his look with an aplomb she had no idea she possessed. Who knew flirting could be so much fun? ‘Then perhaps those riders should make sure they never get caught.’

He picked up a lock of her hair and twirled it a couple of times around his tanned finger. She felt the gentle tug as one by one the roots of her hair lifted off her scalp. His eyes slipped to her mouth, lingered there as if he was weighing up whether to kiss her or not.

Do it. Do it. Do it, a voice chanted in her head.

His head came down in a slow motion action, blocking out the light shining in from the window. He stopped a mere millimetre away from her mouth, close enough for their breaths to mingle. His smelt of toothpaste. God alone knew what hers smelt like after a night on the tiles. Bathroom ones included. Ack!

Daisy put a fingertip against his lips, her voice coming out as little more than a husky whisper. ‘Wait.’

He nibbled her fingertip with his lips, making her legs unlock at the knees. ‘What for?’

‘I haven’t even told you my name.’

He turned her hand over and kissed a tickling pathway from her wrist to her elbow. ‘So, tell me.’

She shivered as his lips came back down to the sensitive skin on the underside of her wrist. ‘Daisy…Daisy Wyndham.’

He held her wrist to his mouth as his eyes meshed with hers. ‘Nice.’

Daisy had trouble breathing. His eyes were so dark she felt as if she were drowning in their bottomless depths. His stubble-surrounded mouth against her skin was making her belly do somersaults worthy of a Cirque du Soleil performance. She even heard the rasp of his skin as he moved his mouth to the heel of her hand as his tongue made one flicking lick against the ridge of flesh. A flashpoint of heat triggered a tumult of sensation in her core. She hadn’t even realised that part of her hand had an erogenous zone.

The doorbell sounded behind him and he dropped her hand with a regretful smile. ‘Breakfast.’

CHAPTER THREE

FOOD HAD NEVER been further from Daisy’s mind, which was saying something as normally it was always on her mind. Forbidden food. The yummy stuff she secretly craved but rigorously denied herself in fear of losing control. Her father had drummed it into her from early childhood that being in control of one’s mind and body and physical appetites was the mark of a well-disciplined person. In order to win his approval she denied herself anything that was the slightest bit sinful. But the years of self-denial hadn’t made her stronger and more disciplined. If anything, they had made her all the more conflicted and confused about what she wanted and why she wanted it.

She watched with her mouth watering and her stomach rumbling as Luiz opened the door to the hotel attendant, who wheeled in a loaded trolley of silver domed dishes. The delicious aroma almost knocked her off her feet. Crispy bacon, soufflé-soft scrambled eggs, deep-fried hash browns, fluffy buttermilk pancakes, the sweetness of maple syrup—not the cheap imitation but the real stuff—a platter of tropical fruit, coffee and even a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket.

The attendant left with a sizeable tip in his hand, closing the door on his exit.

‘Wow.’

Luiz tossed his wallet on the sofa. ‘Hungry?’

‘I meant the tip.’ Daisy’s eyes were still out on stalks. ‘Did you really give that young man two hundred dollars?’

He shrugged a loose shoulder. ‘I can afford it.’

‘Do you light your cigarettes with a fifty?’

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