“Only you, Alex Markov, would keep a house on the side to help you clear your head.” Her laugh was music, so bubbly and happy, it might have been composed by Mozart.
“I like my casino pad, but it’s not exactly homey. It’s important to have a retreat.”
Dana’s lips continued to curl upward in a silent tease. It would be so easy to claim those lips right now, to lick at the corners and nibble their fullness.
But he didn’t.
They were having an actual friendly conversation, one in which neither of them was declaring the intention of fucking the other. He wanted to sleep with her and he knew she wanted to sleep with him.
It probably wasn’t what either of them needed.
Alex kept his lips to himself and swallowed his sigh of sexual frustration.
One step at a time.
“Okay, Alex. I’d love to see your retreat. Do you mind if we stop at my place first, so I can get my laptop?”
“Sure. I’ll get my driver to take us, so neither of us falls asleep at the wheel. Sound good?”
“Yeah.” Dana’s voice was quiet, pensive, but the smile hadn’t left her face. “Sounds good.”
Chapter Fourteen
Dana had figured Alex’s home away from home would be something special.
What she didn’t expect was a Mediterranean-style estate.
She’d seen a few nice homes in her time. After all, her role at the tourism association involved a fair amount of hobnobbing. She’d been a guest at numerous wine and cheese parties, weddings, and open houses. Her long-term clients had invited her to many exquisite functions.
This was just a whole other level of exquisite.
Perhaps it only seemed that way because Alex’s apartment at Vice was so spare and basic. It made this custom-made home seem even more luxurious. Under the bright sun, she could see all the details that proved the house was well maintained. There wasn’t a single patch of dead grass on the green lawn. Not one chip marred the brickwork. And the floor-to-ceiling windows sparkled.
Before getting out of the car, he leaned over and whispered in her ear. “I know. It’s a bit much, but I like it.”
She gestured toward the courtyard and the elegant arch at the doorway. “Who wouldn’t?”
He smiled. He got out of the car, grabbed her briefcase with his left hand, and held the door open for her. “Ready?”
“Probably not, but I’m coming anyway.”
Alex spoke to his driver, Pierre, and let him know he wouldn’t be needed for a while. The man waved and drove away.
As they walked to the front door and passed through the archway, Alex tried to sling his right arm over her shoulder. Upon remembering his splint, he huffed in annoyance, and lowered it. “I can’t wait ’til this thing is off.”
“You never told me what happened.”
“It’s a long story.”
“I have time.”
“How about I make you breakfast while I tell you?”
“But your arm.”
“I’ll manage. Are you hungry?”
“I could eat.”
