Seduced by the Playboy

Author:Pamela Yaye
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2014-12-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Nichola asked, climbing down the front steps of Demetri’s Lake County estate and joining him in his Mediterranean-style garden. “Angela Kelly’s a piranha in Gucci pumps. You might need backup.”

“Go home, Nichola. I’ll be fine.” Demetri pointed his silver watering can at the terra-cotta pots and moved slowly down the row of leafy plants. He wanted his publicist to leave so he could go inside and get ready for his date in peace. It had been months since he’d invited a woman to his house, and he wanted everything to be perfect—the food, the ambience, his appearance. Angela was in a league of her own, and Demetri knew if he wanted to make headway with her this afternoon he had to bring his A game. “Have fun at your sister’s bachelorette party.”

“I have a bad feeling about Angela Kelly coming here.”

“Don’t worry. It’s all good. We made a truce.”

Nichola’s eyes thinned and shrunk into a glare. “You’re not interested in her romantically, are you?”

“Who, me?” Demetri coughed to clear the lump in his throat. He didn’t want anyone—especially his brothers—to know he was interested in Angela. In part because he knew they’d laugh him out of the room. He was attracted to the very woman who had dissed him on national television, and more shocking, he’d been thinking about her nonstop since they’d kissed at Dolce Vita. If that isn’t crazy, I don’t know what is! he thought, shaking his head.

“This is a business lunch,” he said. “We’ll talk, and then she’ll be on her way.”

“And you’re sure you don’t want me to stay and run interference?”

“I’m a grown man. I don’t need anyone to hold my hand or fight my battles,” he said, trying to keep the lid on his frustration. “And besides, Angela Kelly isn’t a threat. I can handle her.”

“Speak of the devil...”

Demetri glanced over his shoulder. When he saw Angela exit her navy blue jeep, the fine hairs on the back of his neck shot up. Wide-eyed, he watched her glide up the mosaic-tile steps with the grace of the First Lady. Her walk was poetry in motion. Mesmerized, he stood beside the decorative oak bench, speechless. Angela’s belted mustard dress showcased her curves, and her ankle-tie pumps gave her a sexy bad-girl edge. Her classy, sophisticated look was a home run, and he was so aroused by the sight of her mouthwatering shape, his brain turned to mush.

Smiling brightly, Angela waved as she approached. Her long, black hair flapped wildly in the light spring breeze, drawing his gaze up from her hips to her beautiful oval face.

Demetri felt the urge to run, to sprint full speed ahead toward her. It was impossible to be around Angela and not feel good. Yesterday at the food bank, they’d talked and joked and laughed with ease. He’d felt like his old, jovial self, like the person he used to be before the media started gunning for him and his injuries began piling up.

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