“Honeysuckle?” At her nod, he lifted a bright red curl and brought it to his nose for a moment before letting it slip through his fingers, immediately jealous of the strand as it caressed a bare shoulder. “Do you taste as sweet as you smell?”

She crossed her arms over her chest, scowling. “Stop doing that, please.”

“Stop doing what?”

“Staring at me.” She glanced around, then back at him. “It’s making everyone else stare, too.”

“I’m not allowed to look at you?” he snapped, chagrinned at the memories she provoked.

Glossy lips pressed together. “Do you need a how-to-stop-being-a-jerk manual? I’ve got a copy in my purse, and it’s the one for dummies.”

He scraped a hand through his hair, willing away his misdirected anger. She couldn’t help what scent she wore. “By chance, do you have a manual on how to apologize appropriately to a woman while still holding on to your man cards?”

“Afraid someone will tear them up?” Her brows quirked.

“Just a little.” He grinned.“Where are you staying? I’d like to take you out. Actually, I’d love to make you breakfast.”

Her cheeks flushed a charming shade of pink. “At The Oasis, but I’ll be busy with meetings and a book signing.”

“What’s your name?” he asked and for a moment her eyes flashed at him, but then her rosy lips curved into a smile that sucked away his breath.

“Zoe Ambrose.” She pulled her phone out of her purse.

“Ian Romanov.”

She frowned, but he wasn’t sure if it was at him or the message on her phone.“I know.”

“Call me Christian.” It slipped out before he could stop himself.

Her lashes flicked up, giving him a glimpse of forest colored eyes. “I’d rather not.”

The relief that should have accompanied her answer never hit him. Instead her answer annoyed the hell out of him. Now he needed her to call him Christian. He also needed his head checked for caring about anyone’s opinion of him, while standing in the middle of an airport, with his bodyguards on one side and random people on the other, taking pictures and uploading videos to You Tube.

However, it didn’t stop him from asking, “Where are you from?”

“North Carolina.” Small white teeth worried her bottom lip as she typed.

“Small town?” How serendipitous would it be to land at McCarran and find his small town image remake at the airport? It also didn’t hurt that she looked…normal. She was exactly what the girl-next-door should look like. Pleasing to the eye, but not the kind of face and body to drive a man insane with lust.

He let his gaze travel over her. On second thought, the curves highlighted by her dress were something that needed to be studied. In his bed.

Her fingers paused and her brows drew together. “No, it’s a state.”

A what? Oh, good God, she thought he didn’t know…He bit back another grin. “Yes, I’ve worked at the studios in Wilmington before. Is the town you’re from small or large?”

“Oh…oh,” she said, her cheeks turning pink again. She glanced down, her thumbs nimble over her keypad. “It’s small.”

Fantastic. He stepped closer to her, his body humming in anticipation. “I’d love to get together while you’re here.”

“Sorry, but I’ll be too busy to socialize.” Tucking her phone back into her purse, she smiled. “Well, have a nice day.” She turned, grabbed her carry-on and walked away.

From him.

He couldn’t form a proper reply. He was too damn stunned at being so easily dismissed.

She tripped over the smooth floor, stumbling into a guy wearing a Brooks Brothers’ suit and making him drop his luggage to catch her. Envy stabbed at Christian’s gut when the man wrapped his arms around her and she laughed up at him.

Christian frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. He widened his stance, ignoring everyone but Zoe as he eavesdropped on their conversation.

“Here’s my card. Maybe we can—”

“No thanks, I already have a lawyer. Do you know where the drivers wait?” She handed the business card back.

The dark-haired lawyer pointed to the left, his shoulders slumping when she told him to have a good day. Then they both got to watch her cute little bum as she marched off.

A strange feeling passed over Christian. It was almost as if he recognized that walk. Then again, she had said they’d met before. Perhaps that’s why she was so irritated with him. But honestly, he couldn’t remember meeting someone who looked or sounded like her.

Zoe turned right and disappeared, then reappeared a few seconds later heading in the opposite direction.

Oh, she was extremely adorable. And, he noticed as she glanced back in his direction, extremely unnerved by him. What had he done to her? Or rather with her.

It didn’t matter. He wanted her for his image remake. Whatever he had to do to get back on her good side, he’d consider it his absolute pleasure.

Gripping her book in his hand, he smiled victoriously. Every woman he knew liked to read by the pool or in the bath. It was up to him to return it to her like any other Good Samaritan. He grabbed his duffle bag from the floor and slid the book in a side pocket. “Now who’s lucky?”

With his bodyguards flanking him, he followed the woman who was doing her best to escape him. Suddenly, she ducked around a corner. There was no way he was going to let her get away. She was the answer to his prayers.

Chapter Three

She had gotten away.

Christian took a shot of vodka from one of the glasses set on the table beside him. Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on how a man looked at things), this was only shot number one. No matter how irritated he was, he wouldn’t ruin his chance with B.T.S on his end.

The three women in his penthouse chatted with each other as they texted and searched for just the right channel on the flat screen. Twins plus one had seemed like a great idea. Actually, the text he’d received from Vanessa Carlton during his layover in New York had seemed like an erotically brilliant idea. But that had been before he met Zoe.

Now here he was, an hour later, and not remotely interested in doing anything beyond pouring drinks and flirt. Poorly.

Not his usual MO. And he was a healthy, red-blooded bloke.

Letting out a harsh breath, he pushed at a couple of glasses. They smacked into each other with dull thuds. He had to find her. It wasn’t just because she turned him down. She was perfect for what he needed: small town girl, unimpressed with who he was and had a wicked wit.

He’d had fun verbally sparring with her. He’d had fun teasing her, and reading (very clearly) the expressions on her face. She also had a very lovely smile when she wasn’t scowling at him.

Zoe. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head against the back of the chair.

“My name is Vanessa not Zoe.”

Christian’s eyes popped open. “What?”

Vanessa’s narrowed as she walked over to stand in front of him. “You called me Zoe when I asked if you wanted to go out with us later.”

Oh, hell. He examined the shot glass in his hand, trying without success to think of something to say.

The twins joined in, planting fists on their hips. “Her name is Vanessa.”

“A very lovely name.” He stood and strode to the bathroom. “This has been most…diverting, but I’ve need of a shower.” Imitating how Sebastian talked should send them scrambling for the elevator.

“But we haven’t done anything,” Vanessa said.

“Maybe he’s going to divert us in the shower,” said one of the twins.

“Sorry, I’ll be diverting by myself,” he said, flashing an apologetic grin.

Spiked heels clicking on the tiled floor followed him in, but he ignored it. He braced his palms on the vanity top and looked into the mirror only to find them staring expectantly at him.

“Who’s Zoe?” Vanessa pressed.

“Do any of you speak French?”

“No,” they answered in unison.

“Zoe means awesome in French,” he improvised.

“We speak American,” Vanessa said with a disgusted look on her face. The twins nodded in agreement.

He rubbed a hand over his face. “If you ladies will excuse me...”

Of course, they stayed rooted in place.

Why couldn’t he be an asshole and make them leave? Because he wasn’t a completely heartless bastard or a hypocrite, that’s why, and he’d been intent on having all sorts of fun with them, before he’d met a prickly brunette with lovely eyes and a thick-as-honey accent.

Sighing, he strode to the toilet and shut the door behind him. He closed the lid and sat on top of it. Maybe if he stayed in here for a while, they’d get the hint.

A knock sounded on the door. Guess not. “I’m busy.”

One of the women knocked again. Exhaling, he stood and opened the door. The trio stood in his way, blocking his exit. “Can I help you?”

“Are you okay?” one of the twins asked.

“Jet lag,” he lied. “I think a shower will help.”

They moved as a group out of his way, whispering as he snagged a towel. He walked to the shower, turning on the multiple heads before shedding his clothes.

As they continued to stare, he had an urge to cover himself. “Please don’t wait around for me. Go try your luck at the slots,” he suggested, stepping into the hot blasts of water.

“Go on, Kylie.” Vanessa shoved her forward.

“We, like, think that you should, like, introduce us to your friends, Wade and Brennen McGowan. You did say they would be here tomorrow, right?” Kylie asked. “Vanessa said there would be some producers here, too.”

Christian grabbed a bar of soap, scrubbing at his skin to wash away the guilt that covered him. Kylie and her sister shouldn’t be here. They should at college parties, not trying to live the Hollywood hype. Vanessa, however, knew exactly what she was doing. As a B-list actress with A-list goals, she’d been playing the be-seen-with-a-celebrity game for years now. It was a game that every actor, male or female, had to play at first.

He slathered shaving gel on his face. “Yes to all of the above. Brennen and Wade would love it if the three of you joined us tomorrow tonight.” Well, Brennen would. Wade, however, would probably grunt and cross his arms.

They clapped and squealed like little girls, almost making him nick his chin as he shaved. “All of you are over twenty-one, aren’t you?” That’s all he needed to place the final nail in the coffin: pictures of him doing coke and under-aged girls in his hotel room. Fantastic.

All three nodded their heads and he relaxed. Again Kylie answered, “Oh yeah, we’re, like, twenty-three and stuff. Don’t worry it’s all street legal with us.”

He quirked a brow, his reflection mimicking the movement in the fog resistant mirror hanging on the tiled wall. “Street legal?”

“You know, like, the game about cars and stuff. We can’t, like, get arrested for partying here ‘cause we’re legal.”

“That certainly clears things up.” He finished shaving, then leaned against the tiled wall and welcomed the hot water beating down on his body. His head ached and he felt closer to eighty than twenty-six.

The trio sighed, startling him. He smacked his head against the wall, his eyes watering in pain. “You’re still here?” He blinked a couple of times and rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand.

“Oh, were we supposed to go?”

“I thought we were going to watch him diverting.”

“My ex-boyfriend liked to record me when I’m diverting.”

Christian wanted to bang his head against the tiles, on purpose this time. Instead, he breathed deeply and gave his signature smile. He got out of the shower, turning off the spigots and wrapping an extra large black towel around his waist. “Be at Shift around eleven tomorrow night. All of you will be on my guest list.”

That seemed to appease even Vanessa. They gathered their things and headed to the elevator.

“This is so zoe, Ian Romanov,” Kylie squealed as the elevator doors shut.

He groaned, rubbing his hand over his face. Stupid, stupid, massively stupid. Zoe was French for awesome? Christ.

Looking around the room, he zeroed in on the book sitting on a table by the elevator doors. He ambled over and picked it up, rubbing his thumb along the outline of the author’s name and paused.

Was that a Z?

He rubbed it again and frowned. Tilting it toward the lamp, he nearly dropped the book when the name caught the light. He barked out a laugh and walked back to his bedroom, tossing it on the dresser. Zoe Ambrose was the author. No damn wonder he’d pissed her off.

Grabbing his phone, he texted Wade, then sank down into the mattress. A yawn cracked open his jaw.

Tomorrow. He would find her tomorrow and apologize.

***

Christian forged a wet path with his tongue down to her breasts, sucking on each nipple in turn as he plunged inside of her. God, it felt so good to be in her, to be gripped so tightly that he couldn’t see straight.

She writhed beneath him, her lush curves an erotic contrast to his. Delicate hands ran up and down his back as he pleasured her. She slipped them beneath the waistband of his trousers to cup his ass, her nails digging in and making him growl.

He bit the side of her neck and then laved at the spot. She trembled against him.

“I’m going to come,” her words were a breathless rush.

Gazing at her, satisfaction filled him when he found the mask she usually wore replaced by the face of Zoe Ambrose.