Behind the lenses of those scholarly glasses, his silver-blue wolf’s eyes grew cagey. “What’s your definition of straightforward?”
“The accepted definition.”
“Got it. No groups. No toys. No Saint Bernard. Disappointing, but I can live with it.”
“Forget it! Just forget it.” She threw down her napkin. “You are way out of my league, and I don’t know why I entertained the notion, even for a moment, that we could go ahead with this.”
“Sorry. I was getting bored.” He leaned across the table to flip her napkin back into her lap. “Do you want strict missionary position, or would you rather be on top?”
Leave it to him to try to turn this into a joke. Tough. Men had dozens of ways of protecting the illusion of their superiority, but she wasn’t buying into any of them. “We can be spontaneous about that.”
“Can we take our clothes off?”
“You can. As a matter of fact, it’s a requirement.”
He smiled. “If you don’t want to undress, that’s fine with me. A nice pair of black fishnets and a garter belt should help retain your sense of modesty.”
“You’re all heart.” She traced the rim of her wineglass with her finger. “Stating the obvious, this is only going to be about our bodies. There won’t be an emotional component.”
“If you say so.”
Now came the tough part, but she wasn’t backing off. “One more item… I won’t engage in oral sex.”
“And why is that?”
“It’s just not my thing. A little too… earthy.”
“You know, you’re kind of limiting my options here.”
She set her jaw. “Take it or leave it.”
Oh, he was going to take it all right, Ren thought as he watched that delectable mouth set in a mulish line. He’d made love both on-screen and off- to the most beautiful women in the world, but not one of those exquisite faces had as much life going on behind it as Isabel’s. He saw intelligence, humor, determination, and an overriding compassion for the human condition. Even so, all he could think about was scooping her up right this minute and carrying her to the nearest bed. Unfortunately, Dr. Fifi wasn’t exactly a scoopable sort of woman, not when she had an agenda. He wouldn’t be surprised if she whipped out some kind of contract and made him sign it first.
The pulse fluttering lightly in her throat encouraged him. She wasn’t nearly as self-possessed as she pretended to be. “I’m feeling a little insecure,” he said.
“Why should you feel insecure? You’re getting what you want.”
He knew he was working with a short rope, yet he refused to let her call all the shots. “But what I want seems to have some big warning stickers plastered across it.”
“You’re just not used to women openly communicating their needs. I understand that might feel threatening.”
Who would have figured a great brain could be so sexy? “Regardless, my ego’s getting pretty deflated.”
“Metaphysically speaking, that’s a good thing.”
“Physically speaking, it isn’t. I want to believe I’m irresistible to you.”
“You’re irresistible.”
“Could you manage to sound a little more enthusiastic?”
“It’s a sore point.”
“My irresistibility?”
“Yes.”
He smiled. This was more like it.
The waiter arrived with an antipasto that included sausage, olives, and golden bites of deep-fried vegetables. Ren chose one and reached across the table to hold it to her lips. “Okay, just to summarize the agenda: no criticism and no oral sex. That’s what you said, right? Nothing too kinky.”
He’d hoped he could get another rise out of her, but she was made of stronger stuff. “That’s what I said.”
He slipped the morsel between her lips. “I guess I shouldn’t ask about whips or paddles.”
She didn’t even bother responding to that silliness. Instead, she took a delicate dab at the corner of her mouth with her napkin.
“Or handcuffs,” he said.
“Handcuffs?” The napkin stalled halfway to her lap.
Was this a spark of interest? She looked flustered, but he wasn’t stupid enough to let her see that he’d noticed. “Forget it. I was being disrespectful, and I apologize.”
“A-apology accepted.”
He heard that little stammer and fought down a chuckle. So, Ms. Control Freak might not be averse to a little light bondage. Even though he had a pretty good idea which one of them was going to end up in handcuffs, he decided it was a good start. He just hoped to hell she wouldn’t lose the key.
Ren took every excuse he could find to touch her during the meal. His legs brushed hers under the table. He stroked her knee. He played with her fingers and fed her tidbits from his plate. In a corny move he must have picked up from one of his films, he rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. How calculated could a man get? And every bit of it was working.
He pushed aside his empty cup of cappuccino. The meal had been delicious, but she couldn’t remember a thing she’d eaten. “Are you finished?” he asked.
Oh, she was finished all right.
When she nodded, he led her from the dining room toward a crooked flight of stairs, but instead of descending, he steered her up.
“Where are we going?”
“I thought you might like a bird’s-eye view of the piazza.”
She’d seen enough views for today. She wanted to get back to the farmhouse. Or maybe he’d like to do it in the car. She’d never done it in a car, but tonight seemed like a good time for new experiences. “I think I’ll pass on the view. Maybe we should head for the car.”
“Not so fast. I know you’re going to want to see this.” With his hand on her elbow, he turned down a corridor and pulled a heavy European room key from his pocket.
“When did you get that?”
“You didn’t really think I was going to give you a chance to change your mind, did you?”
The room was tiny, with gilt moldings, a swirl of cherubs frescoed over the ceiling, and a double bed with a simple white counterpane. “The only one they had left, but I think it’ll do, don’t you?” He set down his backpack.
“Very nicely.” She kicked off her sandals, determined not to let him take over. After she’d dropped her shawl on a straight-backed chair, she set down her purse, pulled out a condom, and marched over to place it on the bedside table. Naturally, that made him laugh.
“Not too optimistic, are you?” He took off his glasses and tossed them aside.
“I have more.”
“Of course you do.” He turned to lock the door. “And so, by the way, do I.”
She reminded herself that tonight had nothing to do with love or permanency. It was about sex, the predictable outcome of being around Lorenzo Gage. And right now he was her personal plaything. Oh, he did look delicious.
She tried to make up her mind where to start. Should she undress him first? Unwrap him like a birthday present? Or did she want to kiss him?
He set the key on the dresser and frowned at her. “Are you making a list?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because you have that list-making look on your face.”
“Makes you nervous, doesn’t it?” She slipped across the carpet, wound her arms around his shoulders, and drew his head down far enough so she could reach that great mouth. Then she took a small nip at his bottom lip-”Hey!”-just to let him know he had a tiger to contend with.
She grinned, hugged him tighter, and gave him a big, sloppy open-mouth kiss to heal that little wound, all the time making certain it was her tongue that stayed in the driver’s seat.
He didn’t seem to mind.
She snaked one leg around his calves. He gripped her bottom and lifted her off the ground, which was perfect, because it made her taller than he was, and, oh, she did love a position of superiority. She put a little more of herself into the kiss and slipped one foot between his legs.
He definitely enjoyed that move, and he started walking her backward toward the bed, already trying to take over. “Strip first,” she said into his mouth.