Ellie took another nervous sip. She felt the light pressure of Clay’s fingers as they played over the back of the hand she rested in her lap and saw him studying her, his eyes dark and warm. The glass shook ever so slightly in her hand.
Clay watched the woman next to him. Ellie looked beautiful tonight, her hair loose around her shoulders, all sweet curves and tremulous smiles.
She was nervous, far more than he’d expected, and he wondered why. She never seemed nervous with Gerry, but then according to Flex their affair had been going on for some time. She hadn’t been nervous with Flex, but then she’d been drunk that night.
Clay didn’t want her drunk. He wanted her breathless and eager. He wanted to forget about dinner, take her straight to the hotel and make love to her.
Her hand shook as she took another long sip of champagne and glanced at him from beneath her dark-fringed lashes. Clay bent down and kissed her, a soft, chaste kiss meant to soothe instead of heat, but her lips felt so lush and sweet he forgot his purpose.
Her response was timid at first, but he didn’t stop, just nipped and tugged her bottom lip, ran his tongue over her full bottom lip, then slid inside to taste her.
When Ellie relaxed against him, Clay deepened the kiss and pulled her into his arms. He heard her tiny purr and felt her fingers slide into the hair at the nape of his neck.
She was kissing him back now, making him hard and aching. He wanted to take her right there on the seat. He massaged her breasts through the front of her dress, felt the peaks stiffen against his palm, felt her trembling with desire instead of nerves--and made a decision.
Clay gently ended the kiss and spoke in low tones to the driver. When he finished, he pulled Ellie back into his arms and started kissing her again. Until the car stopped and the door swung open, he was lost in a world of sensuous pleasure, oblivious to his surroundings. He jumped with a guilty start as the hotel doorman blew the whistle outside the car.
“We’ve arrived, sir,” the chauffer said without looking into the dark interior.
“Oh.” Ellie glanced at Clay, blushing prettily and trying to rearrange her clothes.
“There’s been a change of plans,” Clay said to her. He helped her out of the car and the doorman closed the door behind them.
“We’re at Claridge’s,” Ellie said, glancing up at the words on the marquee.
“Trust me.” Placing a possessive hand at her waist, he guided her into the lobby.
The interior was elegant, old world, and extravagant, in a style reminiscent of the thirties. They crossed the lobby and walked into the elevator, Ellie looking a little uncertain. When they stepped out on the fourth floor, he guided her down the hallway to his suite.
Inside the sumptuous room, decorated elegantly in coral and cream, he headed straight for the bar, which took up one whole corner. Pulling a bottle of Dom Perignon from the refrigerator under the marble-topped counter, Clay popped the cork, which cracked against the beautiful, molded ceiling. Ellie laughed, but it sounded a little forced. Clay poured two crystal flukes of champagne and handed one to Ellie.
“What about dinner?” she asked, glancing around as if he had lured her into his lair.
“Believe it or not, I had every intention of taking you to Le Caprice.” He smiled down at her. “But I didn’t think you could survive it, so we came here instead.” A look of relief mixed with uncertainty crossed Ellie’s face.
Clay almost smiled.
“I was really looking forward to going,” she said. “It’s just that I kept thinking about...afterward.” She glanced away.
“So did I, love.” He led her to the plush, cream-colored sofa that rested in front of the marble fireplace. Once she was seated, Clay bent over and slipped off her high-heeled shoes.
“If you’re hungry, we can have dinner sent up...or we can wait until later.”
“My stomach’s a little unsettled. Later would be better, I think.”
Clay smiled indulgently. Good God, she seemed innocent. It was endearing, even if it wasn’t entirely real. When she emptied her glass of champagne, Clay refilled it. The phone rang just as he finished.
“Damn. I told the desk clerk to hold my calls.”
When he picked up the receiver, his father’s voice cracked across the line, and Clay knew exactly how the call had gotten through. Few people had the courage to ignore a command from Avery Whitfield.
“Evening, son. Just called to remind you we’ll be there bright and early tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow? What are you talking about?”
“Surely you haven’t forgotten. The contessa is expecting us in Monaco.”
A sinking feeling settled over him. “Look, Dad, something’s come up. I won’t be able to make it. You’ll have to give the contessa my apologies.”
