Virgin: Undone by the Billionaire: The Innocent's Dark Seduction / Count Maxime's Virgin / Untamed Billionaire, Undressed Virgin

“I’m sure,” Roark said, sounding amused. “What are you doing? Looking both ways before you cross the street?”

“Hailing a cab,” she said, annoyed.

“You’ll never get a cab this time of the morning. Where’s your driver?”

“It was an unnecessary expense. I let him go when I had …” When I had a baby. She coughed, coloring. “Lately, I’ve been working more from home.”

“I can help.” Roark indicated the black Rolls-Royce that was waiting discreetly at a distance. “My driver can take you wherever you need to go.”

She ground her teeth. “I am not one of your floozies, Roark, waiting breathlessly for your assistance. I can get my own cab.”

He lifted his hands in surrender. “Go ahead.”

She looked first one way, then the other down the quiet street. A few cars went by. She lifted her arm as several taxis passed—all of them already filled with passengers. And she felt Roark’s amusement.

She glowered at him, reaching into her handbag. “I’ll call a car service.”

He placed his hand over hers. “Just let me take you.”

She swallowed as she felt his heat through her white gloves. Why did his slightest touch always have such an effect on her? “You’ll take me straight to work?”

“Yes. I promise.” He stroked back a tendril of hair that had escaped her chignon. “Right after breakfast.”

Breakfast? Was that a metaphor for a morning of hot, fiery sex? She licked her lips. “I’m not hungry.”

He gave her a slow-rising grin that she felt to her toes. “I think you’re lying.”

She sucked in her breath, tried to regain control. “I told you, I need to go to work.”

“And I’ll take you there. After breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” she whispered. “You mean breakfast at … at a restaurant? With food?”

“That is how breakfast is usually done.” His eyes gleamed wickedly, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. He glanced up at her town house. “Unless you want to invite me inside.” He stroked her inner wrist beneath her glove, making her tremble all over in a flash of heat. “I rather like the idea of you cooking for me.”

Swallowing, she glanced back at the town house, where her baby was playing with Mrs. O’Keefe. Oh, my God. At any moment, the widow could come out with Ruby for their morning walk.

She had to get Roark out of here!

She whirled to face him, ripping her hand away from his touch. Her eyes glittered. “If I made you breakfast, I’d dump salt in it, boxes and boxes.”

He gently stroked her chin. “You don’t mean that.”

“Count yourself lucky it wasn’t rat poison!”

His smile broadened. “You’re quite a woman, Lia.”

“And you’re quite a rat. Don’t ever try and push me into another broom closet. If you even think of—”

“No more closets, I swear.” But even as she exhaled in relief, he finished in a low, dark voice, “The next time I take you, Lia, you’ll be in my bed.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

LIA took another sip of the fragrant strong coffee, rich with cream and sugar, from a tiny cup painted with pale-blue flowers and traced in twenty-four-karat gold.

The owner of the expensive French café sprang forward to refill her cup as she set it down, but she covered it with her hand. “No more for me, thank you, Pierre. I’ll just finish this, then go.”

The manager nodded sagely. “Oui, madame. Of course. But,” he said with a tsk, “we’ve missed Mademoiselle Ruby today. I hope she is well?”

Lia nearly choked on her coffee. She felt Roark watching her.

“She’s very well,” she managed. “She just … couldn’t make it today.”

“I’m glad to hear that, madame.” Bowing, he backed away respectfully.

“Who’s Ruby?” Roark inquired.

Lia’s teeth chattered. When Roark had allowed her to choose the restaurant, she’d picked her favorite place. She’d thought it would make her feel comfortable, that it would make her feel calm and strong enough to face Roark.

How could she have failed to consider the fact that Pierre served her and Ruby brunch every Sunday? He adored the baby. He always brought her little origami cranes which he made for her out of the linen napkins.

Rattled, Lia scraped the last of her syrup on the very last bit of waffle and stuffed it all in her mouth.

“Ruby’s a friend,” she mumbled. “Just a good friend.”

A very good friend indeed. The darling of Lia’s life, the cutest baby in the world, who’d just learned to crawl. Swallowing the lump of waffle, she stood up so abruptly that her napkin fell to the floor. “I’m done. Let’s go.”

Lia almost expected Roark to fight her, to insist that she stay. Or worse—to pick her up in his strong arms and drag her to some hotel room.

But he didn’t. He just paid the bill, took her hand and escorted her back to where his driver awaited them outside.

As the Rolls-Royce edged slowly through the mid-morning traffic, she slowly started to breathe again. Was it really that easy? By some miracle, would he leave her like he’d promised?

“Right up here,” she told the driver. Relief flashed through her when she saw the nineteenth-century building that contained her tiny West Side office. She’d made it!

“Goodbye, Roark,” she told him, opening her door. “Thanks for breakfast. Good luck in Asia.”

“Wait.” He grabbed her wrist. She took a long, shuddering breath, then turned back to face him. He looked up at her. “Invite me inside.”

“To my office? Why?”

He gave her a wicked grin that made her hair curl, that made her body feel sweaty all over even as her breath froze like smoke in the cold winter air. “I want to help you.”

“Help me?” she whispered. “How?”

“I want to donate money for your park.”

The same park he’d done his best to destroy? The colossal cheek of the man! Fury raced through her.