you sleep.’
‘Oh!’ Mortification brightened her cheeks as one hand clapped to her mouth. Marco instantly regretted his thoughtless quip. He’d been teasing and it wasn’t true anyway; she’d looked adorable when she slept, her chin tucked towards her chest, her golden lashes fanning across her cheeks.
‘Actually, you don’t,’ he said gruffly. ‘But I couldn’t say you snored, since you don’t.’
‘You cad.’ Laughing, she dropped her hand to hit him lightly on the shoulder, and before he thought through what he was doing he wrapped her hand in his, savouring the feel of her slender fingers enclosed in his, the softness of her skin. Her eyes widened and her breath shortened.
Always it came back to this. The intense attraction that seemed only to grow stronger with every minute they spent in each other’s company. Carefully, Marco released her hand. ‘We’ll be landing soon.’
Sierra nodded wordlessly, cradling her hand as if it was tender, almost as if he’d hurt her with his touch.
The next few hours were taken up with clearing Customs and then getting out of the airport. Marco had arranged for a limo to pick them up but nothing could be done about the bumper-to-bumper traffic they encountered all the way into Manhattan.
Finally the limo pulled up in front of The Rocci New York, a gleaming, needle-like skyscraper that overlooked Central Park West.
‘It’s gorgeous,’ Sierra breathed as she stepped out of the limo and tilted her head up to the sky. ‘I feel dizzy.’
‘I hope you’re not scared of heights.’ He couldn’t resist putting his hand on the small of her back as he guided her towards the marble steps that led up to the hotel’s entrance. ‘We’re staying on the top floor.’
‘Are we?’ Her eyes rounded like a child’s with excitement and Marco felt a deep primal satisfaction at making her happy. This was what he’d wanted seven years ago: to show the world to Sierra, to give it to her. To see her smile and know he’d been the one to put it there. No, he hadn’t loved her, but damn it, he’d liked her. He still did.
‘Come on,’ he urged as they mounted the steps. He realised he was as excited as she was to see the hotel, to share it with her. ‘Let me show The Rocci New York.’
* * *
Sierra followed Marco into the hotel’s soaring foyer of marble and granite, everything sleek and modern, so unlike the faded old world elegance of the European Rocci hotels. This was something new and different, something created solely by Marco, and Sierra liked it all the more for that reason. There were no hard memories to face here, just anticipation for all that lay ahead.
Marco spoke to someone at the concierge desk while Sierra strolled around the foyer, admiring the contemporary art that graced the walls, the sleek leather sofas and chairs and tables of polished wood. Everything felt clean and polished, sophisticated and streamlined. Empty, too, as the first guests would not arrive until tomorrow, after the official opening. Tomorrow night the hotel would have a gala in its ballroom to celebrate, and then the next day she’d fly back to London. But she’d enjoy every moment of being here.
Marco returned to her side, a key card resting in his palm. ‘Ready?’
‘Yes...’ She eyed the key card uncertainly. ‘Are we staying in the same room?’
The smile he gave her was teasingly wolfish. ‘Don’t worry, there’s plenty of room for two.’
It didn’t feel like there was plenty of room, Sierra thought as she stepped into the mirrored lift that soared straight towards the sky. The lift was enormous, their hotel suite undoubtedly far larger, and yet she felt the enclosed space keenly; Marco’s sleeve brushed her arm as he stood next to her and Sierra’s pulse jerked and leapt in response.
She needed to get a handle on her attraction. Either ignore it or act on it. And while the latter was a thrilling possibility, the former was the far wiser thing to do. She and Marco had way too much complicated history to think about getting involved now, even if just for a fling.
But what a fling it would be...
She could hardly credit she was thinking this way, and about Marco. What had happened to the man who had seemed so cold, so hostile? And what about the man she’d fled from seven years ago, whom she’d felt she couldn’t trust? Had it all really changed, simply because he’d finally been honest? Or had she changed and let go of the past, at least a little? Enough to make her contemplate an affair.
Not, she reminded herself, that Marco was thinking along the same lines. But she didn’t think she was imagining the tension that coiled and snapped between them. It wasn’t merely one-sided. She hoped.
The lift doors opened into the centre of the suite and Marco stepped aside so she could walk out first.
‘Welcome to the penthouse.’
Sierra didn’t speak for a moment, just absorbed the impact of her surroundings. The penthouse suite was circular, with floor-to-ceiling windows surrounding her so she felt as if she were poised above the city, ready to fly.
Marco’s footsteps clicked across the smooth floor of black marble as he switched on some lights. ‘Do you like it?’ he asked, and he almost sounded uncertain.
‘Like it?’ Sierra turned in a circle slowly, taking everything in: the luxurious but understated furnishings, nothing taking away from the spectacular panoramic view of the city. ‘I love it. It’s the most amazing room I’ve ever seen.’ She turned to him, gratified and even touched to see the relief that flashed across his face before he schooled his features into a more neutral, composed expression. ‘But surely this isn’t the whole suite?’ The circular room was a living area only. ‘I don’t see any beds. Or a bathroom, for that matter.’
‘The rest of the suite is upstairs. But I wanted to show you this first.’
‘It really is amazing. You must have a fantastic architect.’
‘I do, but the idea for this suite was mine.’ Sierra saw a slight blush colour Marco’s high cheekbones and she felt an answering wave of something almost like tenderness. ‘He didn’t think it was possible, and I nagged him until he conceded it was.’
‘Clearly you’re tenacious.’
‘When I have to be.’
His gaze held hers for a moment and she wondered at the subtext. Was he talking about them? If she’d confessed her fears to him all those years ago, would he have been tenacious in helping to assuage them, in making their marriage work? It was so dangerous to think that way, and yet impossible to keep herself from wondering. But she didn’t want to imagine what life could have been; she wanted to think about what still could be.
‘Let me show you the upstairs,’ Marco said and took her hand as he led her to the spiral staircase in the centre of the room, next to the lift, that led to the rooms above.
Upstairs there were still the soaring views, although the space was divided into several rooms and the windows didn’t go from ceiling to floor. Marco showed her the kitchen, the two sumptuous bedrooms with luxurious en suite bathrooms, and Sierra noted the small amount of hallway between them. There was room for two as Marco had assured her, but they would be sleeping right across from each other. The prospect filled her with excitement and even anticipation rather than alarm.
What was happening to her?
‘You should refresh yourself,’ Marco said when he’d shown her the guest room that she would use. ‘Rest if you need to. It’s been a long day.’
‘Okay.’
‘The ribbon-cutting and gala are tomorrow but if you feel up for it we could see a few sights today,’ Marco suggested. ‘If you’re up for it?’
‘Definitely. Let me just get changed.’
As she showered and dressed, Sierra gave herself a mental