Loving The Temperamental Adonis
Chapter 271 - 9

Chapter 271: Chapter 9

"When are you expecting him to arrive?"

His casual, conversational tone was as startling to Rayne as his quick conclusion that she was expecting a man, but somehow she managed to glance over her shoulder, smile, and answer his question as casually as he’d asked it. "Tomorrow evening, probably."

As she added ice to his glass, she waited for Liam to comment, and when he didn’t, she felt compelled to fill the awkward silence with added information about a boyfriend she didn’t really want to discuss with him in the first place.

"He’s been trying to pursue some company to partner with them for the past few weeks. He flew down here with me five days ago, but his assistant called him and told him the company changed their minds again, and so he had to turn around and fly right back home. He thought the pursuing would be over quickly, but it’s been dragging on and on."

As Rayne finished speaking, she realized the additional remarks about Max were probably a good idea. She’d not only confirmed to Liam that she had a boyfriend, she’d provided enough additional facts about him to bring him into sharp focus right there in the room, where he would now be a barrier between Liam and her.

If Liam’s earlier comment about the ’tempo’ he preferred had actually been a sexual reference, Rayne knew there would be no more of those to deal with now.

He wouldn’t try to kiss her again, either, so she wouldn’t be foolishly tempted to let him. No matter how likable he seemed or how attractive he was, the fact remained that Liam was a Casanova, who would only play with women’s hearts and toss them aside once he was done, and they were alone together in a hotel room.

"We’ve been in a relationship for years," she threw in for good measure, to further eliminate any lingering chances of overtures and temptations.

Rayne poured the wine over the ice in Liam’s glass, serenely certain that everything she’d said about Max would ensure that the lovely evening ahead would be completely free of any more unnerving sensual undercurrents.

Liam watched her, completely satisfied that the busy boyfriend was no obstacle whatsoever to their going to bed together tonight. It was apparent to him that Rayne didn’t imagine she was in love with this boyfriend; women who believed they were in love gave off unmistakable signals, particularly when they spoke of their lovers, and Rayne Wallace wasn’t giving off any of those signals.

The boyfriend wasn’t even likely to be an annoying inconvenience if Rayne and he decided they wanted to enjoy each other for an additional day or two.

In Liam’s experience, businessmen who predicted that they could successfully convince another company who’d rejected them at first in a few days were either deluding themselves or trying to delude someone else—in this instance, Rayne.

In his mind, Liam envisioned a prosperous, middle-aged businessman who’d managed to dazzle Rayne with his wealth after her family had lost everything and promised to give her a better life. He’d never heard any words about her being in a relationship. She must be hiding it because he was way older than she was. He could have confirmed his suspicions with a few questions, but it was disadvantageous to the mood of the evening to further discuss another lover with her.

Besides that, Liam felt it would be in bad taste for him to pry into the absent man’s personal life at a time like this.

Under his personal code of sexual conduct, sleeping with another man’s woman was perfectly allowable if the lady was willing. However, discussing the absent man with her was a needless and tasteless invasion of the man’s privacy. It was ungentlemanly. And Liam dislike ungentlemanly behavior.

Unaware that her discussion of Max had accomplished exactly the opposite of what she thought, Rayne added a slice of fresh lime to the drink, and handed Liam the drink.

When she held the glass out, he made a silent joke about the Michelada she’d spilled on him earlier by stepping back and eyeing her warily before he cautiously took the glass from her outstretched hand.

Of all his attractive qualities, Rayne decided she liked his disarming sense of humor best—undoubtedly because it was easier to forget his good looks and relax when they were joking with each other.

Smiling good-naturedly at his jibe about the Michelada, she asked the first question that came to mind. "Where did you learn to speak Italian?"

"In Italy," he replied, and took a sip of his drink.

"When were you there?"

"When I was ten or eleven."

He seemed a little unforthcoming on the subject, but Rayne stuck with it anyway, because it seemed like a good conversational starting place. "Why were you in Italy at that age?"

"I went to Europe with my father because he had some important business to attend to in Milan."

"I’ve never been to Milan," Rayne said as she turned away and headed back toward the wine cabinet, "but it’s definitely on my list. Do you know what I think of whenever someone mentions Milan?"

"No," Liam replied, studying the easy, self-conscious grace of her walk and the way her dark red hair tumbled in a gleaming waterfall of waves and curls halfway down her back. "What do you think of when someone mentions Milan?"

She shot him a rueful laughing look over her shoulder as she crouched down in front of the refrigerator. "The same two things you do, I’m sure."

"Beautiful women and high fashion design?" Liam speculated with a smirk.

She stood up with a bottle of wine in her hand, but instead of saying he was correct, she fumbled with the top on the bottle for several seconds, trying to get it off. Intending to offer to help her, Liam started to walk forward; then he realized her shoulders were shaking with laughter and he stopped in surprise.

Rayne wasn’t surprised at his words, what more would she expect from a Casanova?

"Whenever i think of Milan," he stated with certainty, "that’s the first thing that comes to my mind. Beautiful ladies in designer wears. And whenever someone mention Amsterdam, all I see are window prostitutes and restaurant menus with Marijuana."

She laughed harder and shook her head vigorously from side to side, causing her hair to shift across her ivory shoulders like a wavy crimson curtain. "That is not what most people think of," she managed unsteadily after she finally got the top off the wine and poured some of the sparkling liquid into her glass.

"What else is there to think of?" he asked, curiously.

She turned fully toward him then, her face alight with laughter. "Street performers in ball gowns and gelato!" she informed him, picking up her glass and crossing the room to him. "Everyone thinks of gelato when they think of Milan."

"Not everyone, obviously," Liam pointed out.

"Apparently not," she agreed, but then said, "I’d be surprised if you went to Milan and didn’t notice the women."

"Why? Because I am a man with a large appetite for women? What do you call that again, oh, a Casanova, right?" He raised an amused brow as he noticed the color that surged to her cheekbones at his words. He already knew what she thought about him: a Casanova, and he had no intentions of denying that. He liked his women and loved to make them happy, but at this moment, he wasn’t thinking about them but the blushing redhead in front of him.

To stop him from talking about his flings in Milan further, Rayne held up her hand and laughingly put an end to the subject. "Do not say another word about Milan, or the women there. Besides," she added as someone knocked on the door, "our dinner is here."

Liam noticed the relief in her voice and understood that she had genuinely felt uncomfortable discussing sex and women with him. This didn’t surprise him much, as he had already observed how reserved she was for an adult woman.

Over the next few minutes, he observed her directing the waiters and overseeing the placement of the elaborate meals on the terrace table, handling it all with the ease of someone accustomed to managing such tasks in upscale restaurants.

Less than two hours ago, she’d knelt beside an injured stray dog and looked at him with tears of pleading in her eyes, and a few minutes after that, he’d found her sitting on a curb next to a busy driveway, serenely unconcerned with her image, or her clothes, or the reactions of the other hotel guests.

She genuinely liked him, and she wasn’t trying to hide that...and yet, he had the feeling he made her nervous. She was vividly, almost exotically, lovely...but when he’d admired the way she looked in those flowing pink silk pants and a little white top held up by gossamer strings tied into bows at her shoulders, she’d seemed so self-conscious that he’d remarked on her hair, instead.

A few minutes ago, they’d been on the verge of a kiss...but when the music interrupted, she backed away and tried to pretend nothing had happened.

In view of all that, Liam began to wonder if he’d been wrong about her feelings for her boyfriend. Perhaps the reason she’d stayed with him for years was that she was emotionally committed to him —or at least determined not to stray. Liam fervently hoped neither was true, because she was attracted to him, he could tell, and he was very much attracted to her.

In fact, he was extremely attracted to her, he admitted to himself as he watched the waiters depart.

Behind him from the terrace, she said lightly, "Dinner is served."

Liam turned and saw her standing in candlelight beside the table, the island breeze ruffling her fiery mantle of red hair around her shoulders.

Wildly attracted.