The Passion Price by Miranda Lee Page B

Angelina was desperate to put some physical distance between them. She was glad when he dropped her hand to unlock and open his front door. But that was only a short respite. She needed longer.
    â€˜I—er—have to use your bathroom,’ she said as soon as Jake shut the door behind them.
    He gave her a sharp look, as though he knew exactly what she was doing. And why.
    â€˜This way,’ he said crisply.
    Her five-minute stay in the bathroom helped, although not the sight of the bathroom. How many people had bathrooms which had black marble rightto the ceiling, not to mention real gold taps and corner spa baths big enough for two?
    Angelina recalled that the living room—which she’d followed Jake across on her way to the bathroom—also had black marble tiles on the floor, not to mention thick white rugs, red leather furniture, sexy steel lamps and a television as big as a movie screen. Then there was the far wall, which was all glass, beyond which was a wide terrace and a view to die for.
    The place had ‘seduction palace’ written all over it! ‘This is a very expensive apartment, Jake,’ she said when she finally joined him in the kitchen. It, too, had the same black marble on the bench-tops, and the latest in stainless-steel appliances. Above the double sinks was a wide window that overlooked the terrace and caught some more of the brilliant view of the harbour, and the bridge.
    â€˜It was all Edward’s doing,’ he said as he spooned the coffee into attractive stoneware mugs. ‘He insisted I buy a flashy harbourside apartment with some of my inheritance.’
    â€˜Well…this is flashy all right.’
    He looked up from his coffee-making, his expression disappointed. ‘You don’t like it.’
    â€˜No, no, I do. What’s not to like? It’s just…well…it does have “bachelor pad” written all over it.’
    â€˜True. But then that’s what I am, Angelina. Abachelor. I thought that was one of the things you liked about me. I fitted in with your priorities in life.’
    She looked away before he glimpsed the truth on her face, walking over to slide open one of the glass doors that led out onto the balcony. ‘Could we have our coffee outside?’ she threw back at him, deliberately directing the conversation away from her priorities in life.
    Jake shrugged. ‘Whatever you fancy.’
    Leading words, and one which Angelina struggled to ignore. If only he realised how much she fancied him . So far, she’d done a good job of keeping her desires hidden, but the fact she was even here, with him, alone, had to be telling.
    She was standing against the glass security panels that bounded the terrace, her hands curled tightly over the top railing, when he joined her with the two steaming mugs.
    â€˜I remembered how you liked your coffee from last Saturday,’ he said. ‘I hope I got it right. Black, with one sugar?’
    â€˜Perfect,’ she said, and went to take it from him. Stupidly, not with the handle. On contact with the red-hot stoneware, her hand automatically jerked back. At the same moment, Jake let the mug go and it crashed to the terrace, splintering apart on the terracotta tiles, some of the near-boiling black coffee splashing onto her stockinged legs.
    Her cry of pain was real, Jake’s reactions swift. Shoving his own mug onto a nearby table, he scooped Angelina up in his arms, and carried herwith long strides back inside and over to the kitchen. There, he sat her on the marble counter, stripped off her shoes and swivelled her round to put her stockinged feet into the larger of the two sinks. Turning on the tap, he directed the cold water over her scalded legs.
    â€˜That water’s freezing!’ she cried out, and stamped her feet up and down in the sink.
    â€˜That’s the idea,’ he replied. ‘It’ll take the heat out of your skin and stop it from burning. Now,