You know why. I’m the antidote to your trusting romantic nature.
I’m not as naive as I once was, Pia responded in her head.
Mr. Darcy turned and padded toward his basket, set against one wall of her living room space. He stepped in, made himself comfortable and closed his eyes.
Pia stood there and then blushed as she remembered her afternoon idyll with Hawk on Sunday.
It was shocking how easily she lost her inhibitions with him. She’d forgotten herself in the moment. But he’d seemed equally affected.
At least she hoped so.
She still couldn’t quite believe her daring—or fool-hardiness—in trying to play in Hawk’s league of seduction. She’d met him and upped the ante. And though she hadn’t been able to admit it to herself, perhaps she’d set out to prove that she could bind him, unlike their first time.
Careful, careful. She couldn’t and wouldn’t risk her heart again. She was beyond being the naive virgin who believed in fairy tales. Instead, she’d take what she wanted from Hawk for her pleasure and be prepared to say goodbye with no regrets when the time came.
She looked at the clock. It was just after five. He must have come directly uptown to see her after the close of the New York financial markets.
She hadn’t seen him since they’d wound up in bed together, but that was about to change.
Hawk stepped out of the elevator and immediately spotted Pia at her door—waiting for him.
“H-Hawk,” Pia said, her voice a touch breathless.
She was dressed in a casual, cinched blue dress, her hair loose and with just a touch of shine to her lips.
She looked good enough to eat.
Without hesitation, he strode to her, wrapped his arms around her and gave her a bone-melting kiss.
When he finally lifted his head, he searched her gaze. “Blast it, I get so aroused when I hear you stutter.”
She blushed. “I don’t know why. Th-that has to be one of the most unusual compliments a woman has ever received.”
He kissed her nose. “Do you know it’s the most erotic thing in bed when your adorable speech tick is on full display?”
“How embarrassing.”
“How perfect.”
“Oh.”
Over Pia’s shoulder, Hawk noticed Mr. Darcy lift his head from his cushioned basket and eye him.
Hawk got the sense that the pet’s opinion of him had soured since the first time he’d been in Pia’s apartment. Perhaps the cat had figured out who he was: The Duke Formerly Known as Mr. Wickham. Or rather, Mr. Fielding—wicked and wrong—as the case might be.
He held the feline’s stare, giving the cat a stern but reassuring look, until Mr. Darcy lowered his head, closed his eyes and went back to his nap.
“Is something wrong?” Pia asked, stepping back and letting him into the apartment.
He followed her in and waited while she shut the door behind him.
Then he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “Nothing is wrong except that since Sunday I’ve been desperate to see you.”
He’d left work early to come here, hoping his appearance would be a welcome surprise. And judging from Pia’s reaction, he’d bet right.
Pia slid her arms around his neck. “Oh?”
“I had a storm of work this week, and by the time I flew back from Chicago last night, I knew phone calls were no longer enough to sustain me.”