“What? No, that isn’t it,” he said. “I just need to tell you something.”
“Yes?”
“You said I was smarter than you are. That isn’t true, and it bothers me that you think it is. The fact is, you’re a hell of a lot smarter than I am, and no, I’m not going to explain why.”
He turned to leave, and as he headed to the door, she stepped up behind him. “Flattery isn’t going to work on me. You’re still a bonehead.”
Michael started to laugh. Shaking his head, he spun around just as Isabel took a step forward and bumped into him. Instinctively, he reached out to her. With his arms wrapped around her, he responded. “It wasn’t flattery.”
“It sounded like it.” For the next few seconds they stood pressed together, neither one of them moving, and then Isabel kissed the pulse at the base of his neck.
He flinched. “Stop that.”
“You don’t like it?”
“Stop fooling around, and let me get the hell out of here before I do something we’ll both regret.”
Michael let go of her and stepped back. The problem was, she wasn’t letting go. He had to get out of her bedroom and away from her bed. The longer he stayed, the more difficult it became not to touch her. He admitted he loved being close to her. No other woman had this effect on him, but Isabel . . .
all she had to do was walk past him or smile at him, and every part of him reacted. He kept telling himself it was nothing more than raw animal attraction, but that lie wasn’t working any longer.
“Good night, then,” she whispered. She leaned up and brushed her mouth against his. There wasn’t anything wrong with a good-night kiss. It was . . . platonic, nothing more. But then he pulled her to him and kissed her, and it was anything but platonic. His mouth was hot, and his tongue made love to her as he lifted her, her pelvis pressed against his.
Michael had kissed her before but nothing like this. His passion ignited her own, and Isabel suddenly couldn’t get enough of him. She moved restlessly against him, her tongue dueling with his, and when he abruptly ended the kiss, she all but collapsed against him.
Without a word, he pulled her hands away from him and walked out the door.
Isabel dropped down on the bed and closed her eyes. Michael was turning her into a slut, she decided, and he didn’t even know it. Trying to blame him for her behavior didn’t work. She had all but attacked him. Yep, it was official. She was headed down the road to Trampville.
She laughed out loud at the absurdity of it all, and she was beginning to accept the fact that she was letting her imagination get away from her, but then a line for a song came to her, and all she could think about was a melody. Unlike other times when she’d been inspired with an idea, however, she didn’t let herself dwell on it long. She needed to get some sleep.
Isabel had no idea what tomorrow would bring, but there was one thing she was sure of: it was either going to be a catastrophe . . . or a miracle.
FIFTEEN
FRIDAY MORNING ARRIVED, AND ISABEL WAS FREAKISHLY CALM. NO ONE WAS MORE
surprised than she was. She ate breakfast and kept it down. That was another surprise.
A little before noon Alec packed the car and drove her and Regan to the Hamilton. Ignoring Isabel’s wishes, Regan put her in a large one-bedroom suite. It was quite beautiful and spacious, with a panoramic view of the Charles River in the distance. The living room was done in blacks and grays with upholstered furniture throughout, and it was separated from the bedroom by a pair of French doors. The bedroom was a mixture of muted grays. On the king-size bed was a soft plush down comforter and luxurious white linens. The bathroom, all in white marble, was almost as big as the bedroom.
“I don’t need all this room,” Isabel protested.
“People will be coming and going,” Regan reminded. “Hair and makeup will be here shortly, and Vera is coming up in case you need something pinned or tucked, so yes, you do need this much room.”
She made the comments while she helped one of the maids hang up Isabel’s clothes and unpack her bag.
Isabel wasn’t used to being pampered. It was sweet and thoughtful of Regan to move her into a suite, and Isabel was grateful. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble, but I really appreciate it.
Thank you, Regan.”
“We’re happy to help,” Regan replied. “Aren’t we, Alec?”
“Of course we are,” her husband agreed as he took the empty bag Regan handed him and set it in the back of the closet.