Irritation simmered in his gaze, as he glowered at her, struggling not to lose his temper. “I already told you that she was on the floor looking for her contact. I was just about to get down there and look too when you walked—”“Look, Lucas. Your sex life is none of my business. But just so you know, most women don’t usually want to go out with men who change girlfriends as regularly as he changes his socks.” She dropped her gaze to her desk as she reached for the paper he’d brought to her. “Thank you for the itinerary, but unless there is something else, I really need to get back to work.”And just like that he was dismissed. He stood there staring at the crown of her head, as fury whipped through his veins. She was barely civil toward him, but she’d never been outright rude. For a year and a half he’d been on the receiving end of her cold shoulder, and while he could definitely take everything she dished o

He stood there rooted in his spot as he slid his gaze over her. She was almost completely unrecognizable, dressed in a pair of fitted jeans, with tears in strategic places, and a sheer ivory top that she might as well have been naked under, for all the good her low cut, mid drift baring tank top did to cover her lush, full breasts. She sat at the bar, her fingers curled around the stem of an empty wine glass as she leaned into a good looking middle aged man, dressed in what Lucas knew to be a tailormade Armani suit. Jealousy whipped through him when she threw her head back and laughed at something the man said, her unbound hair brushing against her back. He had never once seen her laugh with such abandon, but here this stranger, whose eyes had not once made it to her face, was being treated to the sweet sound of her hushed giggle. When the man’s hand settled on her leg and began to stroke far too close to that secret place between her thighs, he lost it.With angry

“Evita, can you take one last walk for us so that I can get a better look at the material?”Yolanda glared at Lucas who stared transfixed by the tanned and gorgeous Brazilian model who’d already taken three runway passes in front of Lucas wearing nothing but a skimpy black bikini.“Evita, we’re done with you. Thank you,” she snapped, a little shocked by the venom she heard in her voice. Apparently she wasn’t the only one as she glanced around the room to see designer Leonora Vatrelli wearing a stunned expression, along with Evita. The only person who didn’t look surprised was Lucas. He sat there wearing a self-satisfied smirk which she ached to slap off his face.They were now on their third and final designer for the day, the third and final time she’d had to sit through a collection showing where he openly flirted with the stunning models while he basically ignored her.She was jealous. Plain and simple. Jus

“Where are you going?”Yolanda glanced up from packing her clothes as Lucas ambled into her room dripping wet from his shower with a towel slung low on his hips. She released an inward groan as she stared at his chiseled body.She wanted to scream at her pussy—down girl. They’d spent all last night and most of the early morning burning up the sheets, not to mention the two times they’d played the horizontal tango as soon as they got back to the hotel after their meetings.“That’s what I was trying to tell you last night, this morning, and as soon as we got back here, but you always have a way of distracting me,” she said with a smile, before she turned her attention back to packing. “Since we only had two designers today I was planning to take an early flight back.”Crossing the room to stand beside her, his brows knitted together as he frowned. “Why?”She pushed down on the suitcase unt

Lucas was exhausted by the time he got up to his office at eight o’clock that night. His flight had been delayed twice and the nasty turbulence had made it almost impossible for him to sleep.As he let himself in, he trudged past the deserted cubicles toward Yolanda’s office. All he really wanted to do was curl up in his bed and treat himself to a restful night of sleep. The last thing he wanted to do was go over one of the designer’s portfolios on a Thursday night, with the last person he wanted to see. But he had to. Dafina was expecting theirreport on her desk Friday morning before she left for a weekend trip toParis that afternoon. She couldn’t leave without that report if she was going to make a decision between the final two designers in time to start making preparations for the Spring line. In fashion, preparations for lines started months, sometimes years in advance, and they were already a month behind on the swimsuit component of th