Christian flexed his hand, turning to his dinner date after getting his temper under control. Zoe looked miserable and embarrassed. His anger abated slightly, but he’d been sitting beside this woman for over two damn hours, keeping his hands to himself while his body jumped at every little move she made.

If she turned, so did he. If she smiled, so did he. If she licked her lips, so did he. He was like a damned teenager around her. Like an eager puppy hoping that by being all gentlemanly she would notice and pet him behind his ears. Instead Zoe had stabbed him after his legendary self-control had decided to delete itself from his amorous menu.

Under his palm, he’d felt her shiver. He’d heard the soft intake of air and the soft blush that appeared on her cheeks, spreading down her neck and along her chest. In that instant desire had ridden him hard. Thank God he’d been on autopilot, telling a story he’d previously related in interview after interview, or else he would have looked an utter fool.

He shouldn’t have touched her, not without her permission. But it wouldn’t deter him from trying to gain it, no matter the uphill battle he knew he would have to endure.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you. And I promise to never criticize your novels again, or at least when I know there’ll be cutlery nearby,” he offered, hoping she would turn those pretty green eyes back on him. A scant second later, she gazed into his and a flash of something hit him. As quickly as it was there, it was gone. Dammit. He grabbed his napkin and tossed it on the table.

Her lips twitched. “My two-year-old niece doesn’t even scream like that.”

“I yelled— grunted, actually,” Christian insisted as her body shook with barely contained laughter.

“Whatever makes you feel all manly inside.” She gave him a toothy smile and his blood turned to lava.

“I’d like to have my manly parts inside of you.” That did not just come out of his mouth.

Green eyes narrowed. “I bet you say that to every woman you meet.”

“Just the ones I want to sleep with.” He couldn’t stop himself and wouldn’t. He was balls to the wall when it came to her.

She swirled her glass of water around once, then set it down on the table. “According to gossip sites you do a whole lot more than sleep, with a whole lot of women.”

“Do you believe everything you read?”

“No.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I’m insulted you think I’m like all the others. That you think adolescent pick-up lines are what women want to hear from a man.”

Maybe she’d be more receptive if they went someplace private. “Come up to my penthouse and I’ll flatter you instead.” Martha’s warning rose in his mind, but he ignored it. He was a consenting adult, trying to hook up with another consenting adult. Hardly the stuff an agent should concern themself with in the grand scheme of things.

“Your form of flattery is highly suspect, Ian.” Unwrapping a mint she’d dug out from her purse, she popped it in her mouth, put the wrapper on the table and glanced around the room.

“I highly suspect you’ll like being flattered by me. And I asked you to call me Christian.”

“While I never asked you to call me at all,” she said, her peppermint breath tickling his nose as he leaned closer and tried to catch her eye.

“Let me show you around Vegas.”

“I’m sure you’ve got other plans.”

Actually he did, but he’d rather be with her. Hell, he’d been ordered to be with her and the photographs they’d gotten before the stabbing had been great. “They include you.” He let go of her hand and held up his. “Come on. I’m harmless.”

Zoe laughed, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “If I go out with you, then everyone will think we’re sleeping together.”

“Is that such a horrible thought?” He reached for her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing the palm. “Such delicate hands. Most men would never suspect a knife expert lurks beneath the surface.”

“I, um, I’m too old for you.” She snatched it away and reached down, bringing her purse to her lap and looking extremely uncomfortable.

What was he going to have to say or do to get her to agree? It was true that he heard yes more often than no from women. He was also entirely cognizant of the fact that it had a lot to do with his fame, his money and his reputation, his good looks merely a bonus. Women (and some men) were attracted to him. They made no secret of it.

Only nothing worked with Zoe. Not his usual lines, not his celebrity status and not even compliments. She was the one cock-blocking him from hooking up with her. It made no sense.

He wanted to pound the table in frustration. Instead he calmly replied, “I didn’t realize I had an age limit.”

She shot him a look of pure disbelief. “Did you actually talk to your last five girlfriends or whatever they were? They were all under twenty-three.”

“But over twenty-one,” he said. “And you can’t be more than twenty-five.” So, she knew about his personal life or the internet’s version of it. There was no way she was as indifferent to him as she pretended to be. Unless she’d been the one sending him anonymous hate mail. Although he doubted that very much. Zoe would most likely have it hand-delivered with her name in capital letters and a list of all the things that didn’t meet her goal, motivation and conflict guidelines.

She tilted her head to the side, a mischievous grin appearing on her face. “Are you saying twenty-five is your ceiling?”

Holy hell. He’d say whatever she wanted him to if she kept looking at him like that. Like she didn’t want to stab him again or run away screaming. Her lashes flicked and he sucked in a breath, unable to remember when a woman’s lashes held him spellbound. Hell, he couldn’t remember how old he was at the moment.

“Sure, love, twenty-five is my limit. Can’t have ‘em hovering at thirty,” he said, recovered from his momentary lapse of proper brain function.

She leaned closer and his body tensed in anticipation. Or fear. She had stabbed him. On purpose, mistaking the knife for a spoon notwithstanding. Still, she bloody meant it. Perhaps he should rethink his preoccupation with her after all.

“I hate to break it to you, stud, but I’m practically knocking on thirty’s door as we speak.” Grabbing her glass of water, she took a sip.

He blinked, then blinked again. “How bloody old are you?”

Her face turned red as the entire restaurant seemed to quiet at his shouted question. To his shock, she stood, water goblet in hand, and strode away. He sat there, until the manager came by to ask if he needed anything.

After sending the man off with a tip, Christian contemplated the small bandage on his hand, remembering the searing moment as the tip of the blade pierced his skin. The throbbing was mostly gone, but his interest in Zoe was not. Rising to his full height, he went looking for her. Again.

Chapter Five

Zoe groaned, surveying the destruction she had inadvertently caused. Potted palm trees lay prone, one on top of another like dominoes. While she’d been texting Melanie about her “date”, someone had come along and practically shoved her out of their way. Luckily, she hadn’t gotten hurt and she’d found her phone. Two for two.

A warm hand clamped down on her shoulder, making her jump. “I don’t care where in this hotel you hide. I will always be able to find you.”

They faced each other in the mirrors along the lobby, his lean form looming over her while his blond hair gleamed under the lights. Christian looked like a movie star while she, well, Zoe looked like herself.

She sighed, then turned to face him. His injured hand fell to his side.

“You embarrassed me.”

He frowned. “You embarrassed yourself when you stabbed my ass.”

“It was your hand, you big baby.”

“Look, I’m sorry for shouting at you. It took me by surprise—that’s all”

“Poor thing.” She patted his arm. “You must be scarred for life to discover that women actually age in the real world.”

Pale blue eyes drifted lazily down her body. “Like a very fine wine.”

“Did you just use the cheesiest line in history on me?”

He shot her a disgruntled look. “My original ones weren’t working.”

“Why don’t you try, oh, I don’t know, talking to me like a normal person? Ask questions about what I like to read. Or what’s on my bucket list—”

“Sleeping with the infamous Ian Romanov?” he asked with a wriggle of his brows.

“Or something as mundane as what I like to do in my free time.”

He stared at her for a moment. “Will you help me? I’ve got this PR problem and need to be seen with someone like you.”

“What do you mean someone like me?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way—”

“Never start a conversation with a woman using that phrase.”

“So noted.” Raking his hand through his hair, he gave her a crooked smile. “I need to hang out with someone who’s the exact opposite of me. Someone who’s genuine and accidentally knocks over palm trees in lobbies, because she wanted to get away from an uncouth asshole who couldn’t keep his mouth shut or his hands to himself. Better?”

Better? More like the perfect thing to say. “It’s a start, but why exactly do you need me?”

“Hey you,” a man shouted.

Christian looked over her head, his eyes widening. “What the hell?”

Turning, she followed his line of vision. An Oasis employee trotted over, wiping at his mouth. There were sweat marks under his arms and across his ample belly. Stopping in front of them, he tugged his pants up by the waistband.

“Are you stupid? The sign says don’t touch the plants and that includes trees. I saw you leaning all over them on the monitor.”

“I wasn’t leaning on them. Someone shoved me from behind, and I fell.”

A fat hand patted down a three-haired comb-over and his beady eyes narrowed in on Zoe. “You need to leave before I call the cops.”

“Why in the world would you call the cops over trees? It’s not like I was trying to smuggle them out of the lobby. Do you really think I can defy the laws of physics to fit one of those in here?” She waved her purse in the guy’s face.

Christian coughed. She turned to ask if he was okay, but he waved her off.

“No, I was gonna call the cops because you’re obviously doing business in here.” He smirked. “Although I could be persuaded to look the other way with a freebie.”

“Why you...you,” she sputtered. Christian stepped in front of her, but she pushed him aside. “I can handle this.”

A slow smile appeared as he appraised her. “Go for it, wildcat.”

She turned back to the odious man. “I don’t think your boss would very happy to know you were being so ugly to guests.”

“Being ugly,” Christian muttered. “Oh, come on.”

The Homer Simpson look-alike shrugged. “Calling it like I see it.”

“Let me talk to him, love,” Christian offered in his very proper British voice, the sound making her knees wobble.

She stepped out of his way. “Be my guest.”

Grabbing the squat man by the collar, Christian shoved him against one of the black columns that framed RARE. “I made her fall into the trees. You will apologize to the lady, because that’s exactly what she is.”

Murmurs arose from a crowd of onlookers.

Christian froze, staring down at the man he’d pinned against the restaurant. A you’re-in-for-it-now smile appeared on the guy’s face and his mouth opened. “Don’t even think about.” But Christian needed to. How would he get out of this situation? He was quite sure this kind of publicity wasn’t what his agent had in mind. The board members of B.T.S. wouldn’t be amused either.

“Cut!” Christian heard Zoe shout, then she began to clap. “Well done, gentlemen. I really liked it when you, Mr. Romanov, pushed, um, him against this column here—” She patted the faux marble. “—in order to defend the lady’s honor. A supremely nice touch.

“You can let him down now,” she added in a hushed voice that barely reached Christian’s ears.

A few people joined in, until the entire crowd was clapping along with her.

Christian watched in complete fascination as Zoe disappeared into the remaining jungle of palm trees. Where was she going?

“Uh, Mr. Romanov?” his prisoner asked.

Christian smiled, then adjusted the man’s collar before letting go. He waved to the crowd, mouthing ‘thank you’ and winking. He elbowed the facilities manager in the side. “Wave and look extremely happy while you do it. Or I’ll rip your bloody head off.” He glanced down at the name tag on the man’s uniform. “Is that understood, Mr. Fulner.”

Frantically waving, Mr. Fulner managed to get an arm around Christian and half hugged him. “Too much?”

“No,” Christian whispered back, smiling and nodding all the while. “Too much would be my foot up your arse. Here’s what you’re going to do: fill her entire room with flowers and the largest box of chocolate truffles you can find—dark, mind you, not milk.” Zoe struck him as a dark chocolate type of woman. “Now, we’re done.”

Mr. Fulner pulled at his collar, then shook Christian’s hand and clapped him on the back. “Pleasure rehearsing with you, but I’ve got to get back to work.”