Nobody Does It Better Read Online Free Page B

force of his magnetism.
    Alexander glanced her way, then said something to a nearby woman, who turned to the crowd with the promise that Mr. Alexander would be right back.
    Before Paris realized what was happening, before she could still the flutter in her chest, he caught up with her. Her breath caught as his gaze caressed her, starting at her toes, and she surprised herself by trembling under the scrutiny. She took inventory of her appearance—black heels, little black dress with spaghetti straps, pinned-up hair—and wondered if he approved.
    When he reached her face, Paris saw real desire in his eyes and fought hard not to blush. When he leaned in and kissed her cheek, she almost dissolved into a puddle of goo right there.
    Her logical half knew she should be throwing a fit, hurling accusations and demanding explanations. Baser instincts urged her to grab the moment, to melt into his arms and taste his kisses. She concentrated on just keeping her balance.
    "We shouldn't keep meeting like this," he said, his voice straight from her fantasies. "People will say we're in love."
    Paris gasped, knocked even more off-kilter. A right punch to her stomach wouldn't have shocked her as much. He was quoting a line from her first book, and Paris wasn't sure if she should be comforted, or very, very worried.
    She took a shaky breath. "Have you read the book?"
    He hesitated. "Why do you ask?"
    Paris shrugged. "No reason," she said, trying hard to throw some ice into her tone and take control of, not only the situation, but her own leaping pulse. "It just seemed like an odd line to choose, since Joshua, the hero, says it to a female spy after she's tried to kill him three times."
    "I assume she fails."
    Paris squirmed, aware that her own insides had turned to jelly with nothing more than the simple brush of his lips across her cheek.
    "She doesn't kill him, right?" the stranger pressed.
    "He, um, he manages to convince her otherwise."
    "You mean he seduces her and manages to turn her into a counteragent. Nice technique he had, wouldn't you say?"
    "Under the circumstances, I suppose," Paris muttered, trying to get a grip on herself.
    Discussing a seduction scene with a man who could reduce her to quivers with one heated look was not a good idea. It was bad enough to have a crush on a man her imagination had conjured up, but that could be justified as a creative mind working overtime. But to have a libidinous reaction to some practical joker who was surely little more than a wanna-be actor was just plain ludicrous … no matter how much he looked and acted like the man of her dreams.
    She needed to sit down, but nothing was nearby. Squatting on the floor would give entirely the wrong impression, and running screaming from the room simply wouldn't do. She had no choice but to stick it out.
    "Who are you and why are you here?"
    "Isn't it obvious?" The mild accent hinted at
New York
, not the cultured, almost British lilt she'd always imagined. Even so, it was familiar. She was just too rattled to remember why, who, where.
    As if observing herself in a dream, she felt her features smooth into a polite mask punctuated by a sugary smile. "We need to talk."
    "We're not talking?" His voice was almost a whisper. Sultry. Sexy.
    For a moment, Paris thought that talking wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Kissing would be better. If she melted from nothing more than a peck on the cheek, imagine what a real, deep, mind-numbing kiss would do to her…
    She gave herself a mental kick in the pants. He was not Alexander. He couldn't be. And she wasn't going to let herself crumble in a pile of lust at his feet.
    "We need to talk now," she repeated. He nodded, just barely, and pressed his hand against her lower back, guiding her toward the kitchen. His heat through the thin material distracted her, and it took all her concentration to keep her feet moving and her lips smiling.
    As they moved toward the kitchen, a few people called out to him, one or two