His gaze probed, darkened with each jagged second. It dropped to her lips, and Elise, as if she were under a spell, parted them.
Someone made a sound. A tiny fracture of breath. The beginning of a curse. Or a prayer. She never got the chance to guess.
The lift arrived with a slight bump and the doors glided open.
And the spell was broken.
CHAPTER FIVE
ELISE HAD RIDDEN in her fair share of supercars, her father being a firm believer that a show of power and success bred even more of the same. Each time she’d ridden with her father, she’d prayed for the ride to be over as quickly as possible, silently enduring the ‘life lesson’ speeches that came with those trips, while Ralph Jameson had walked away congratulating himself for showing his daughter what material benefits could be plucked like fruit from the nearest low-hanging tree, should she play her cards right.
Tonight, she was far from uninterested. Her gaze strayed frequently to the man behind the wheel of the Bugatti, a tiny part of her not minding the traffic that slowed their progress through downtown Chicago.
Even the silence, although charged with residual awareness from the lift, was welcome. It gave her a chance to breathe, and evaluate just what it was about Alejandro Aguilar that threatened the careful foundations of the walls she’d built around her emotions and sexuality.
When it came right down to it, he’d done nothing presumptive or offensive to make her believe she had anything to fear from him. His comment about her flirting had stung, of course, but he’d dropped the subject at her challenge. Which was far more than a few of the men she’d interacted with professionally and privately had done in the past.
But that tiny consideration still didn’t account for why she felt this unsettling excitement just by being next to Alejandro Aguilar.
Whatever it was, she needed to get it under control quickly.
He changed lanes as they neared her South Shore apartment. In an effort not to stare at his hands or the taut thighs centimetres from hers, or even breathe in the aftershave-mingled maleness of him, she cleared her throat.
‘So...are you going to go after your brother?’
His jaw clenched as he pulled to a stop at a traffic light. One hand rested on the top of the steering wheel, the other scrubbing restively over his stubble. ‘No. For now, I’m choosing to resist that impulse.’
A breath freed itself from her chest. ‘I’m glad.’
He glanced at her before he eased away at the green light. ‘Do you advocate the “make love, not war” route with all your clients?’
‘My commissions so far have involved damage limitation or using the best PR approach that makes the client look good. I won’t be helping you if I advocate an approach that makes you look bad to investors in the long run.’
He slid another glance at her. ‘What do you care? This is your last commission. What happens after this shouldn’t concern you.’
Elise bit her lip as a mildly hollow sensation washed over her. ‘No, I guess it shouldn’t. Maybe I don’t want my swan song to leave a bad taste in my mouth,’ she replied. She looked out of her window and saw her apartment block slide into view. She indicated the quieter side street. ‘If you pull over here, I’ll jump out.’
He ignored her and the no-parking zone in front of her building and stopped before the double glass doors. Stepping out, he came round and opened her door.
Elise took a gulp of restorative fresh air. ‘Thanks for the ride.’
He took her arm and started towards the double doors. ‘You can thank me by letting me see you to your door. You can also tell me why your building doesn’t have a doorman. Or adequate security.’ He eyed the hippy-looking couple who breezed out, then transferred his scathing gaze to the doors that didn’t quite shut behind them.
To counteract what the thought of being enclosed with him in another lift was doing to her insides, she waved his terse demand away. ‘I have a super. Does that satisfy you?’
‘No, it does not.’
Her mouth twisted. ‘Not everyone can afford a Barrington Hills mansion, Alejandro.’
He pressed the lift button. When it didn’t arrive quickly enough, he pressed it again, several times. ‘I don’t live in Barrington Hills.’
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‘My parents do.’
He stared at her. ‘And you choose to live here?’
‘Yes,’ she answered simply.