Then her shapely mouth moved, responded, and his mind went blank, the buzz of the press disappeared. He pressed harder and she reacted with a passion he hadn’t earned. Her lips parted and his tongue slid in, tasting her before she shut him out again. He felt her tremble. He pulled away before she could slap him.

“I was just returning the favor,” he whispered into her ear.

Hundreds of flashbulbs were going off, lighting up the dingy February sky.

Chapter Eight

The black Mercedes SUV roared up to the curb. She was grateful when Duke’s agent jumped out to herd her through the shouting crowd of reporters and into the backseat surrounded by tinted windows.

Duke slid in beside her and beamed. “You were great.”

She offered her most withering stare in return, trying her damnedest to appear unruffled, thankful he couldn’t see her galloping heart or the heat between her legs. “A heads-up would have been nice before you decided to make out with me. I might have been able to play it off better.”

She could feel him on her lips.

He was quiet for a beat. “Yeah, I didn’t plan it. Just seemed like a good idea at the time. Thanks for being a sport.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t rip your throat out.” Actually, I came close to ripping off your shirt. His mouth had lit a fire in her. The kiss at the field had been an accident with a stranger. This, however … It was intense. It was confusing. He’d seemed so passionate, but then drew away. Had she actually been hoping the kiss was real? Yes, she realized. But now it was obvious, it was simply a ploy.

I’m no famous model. He’s not interested in someone like me.

She flinched. Reporters were knocking on the windows, shouting out questions.

I don’t want to be famous. I don’t want to be Regina.

“Man, can we get out of here?” Duke said.

“Yes, please, can we?” Angel badly wanted to be at home, hiding under the covers.

“On it.” Aaron flicked on the blinker and spun the steering wheel at the same time, cutting off a fleet of taxis. The surrounding honking trebled. Must be his signature move, Angel thought, jolted against the seat. The agent angled the rearview mirror at her and asked, “Where do you live?”

“A couple blocks up from the Peacock, on Jerome Avenue. In the building above House of Beauty salon.”

Aaron’s cell rang. The agent nodded to her, then barked into his phone. “Yeah?”

She sat back. There were so many elephants in the roomy interior with her and Duke, she felt like she was about to be squashed. Duke clearly didn’t know what to say, either, staring out his window. What could he say? Or maybe he was simply done with her and had no further need to talk to her.