Infamous: Hollywood Husband, Contract Wife / Pure Princess, Bartered Bride. Jane Porter

it’s not public, no one will know.”

      Alexandra thought she’d run to the bar and make her own drink if the cocktail waitress didn’t return soon. “But maybe … maybe we can be one of those mysterious couples that don’t really do PDAs.”

      “PDAs?” he asked, his head tipping back against the velvet chair as he watched her with lazy interest.

      His hair was thick, glossy black, and he wore it a little long. And in a way it reminded her of a wolf pelt—thick, dense, male.

      And Wolf was very male.

      Alexandra struggled to swallow. She couldn’t remember ever being this thirsty before. Her body was burning and her throat felt absolutely parched. She pressed her lips together, feeling her teeth beneath.

      “PDAs?” he prompted again.

      “Public displays of affection.”

      The corner of his mouth lifted. “But I’ve no problem with public displays of affection if I like my woman.”

      He’d trapped her in his eyes, and she gazed helplessly into the deep brown depths, a color somewhere between cocoa and black coffee, thinking they seemed endless, so dark, so deep, so alive with that unique fire of his.

      One of his hands trailed up her spine, tracing her backbone and the little vertebrae between.

      She shivered beneath the light caress, aroused despite her fierce desire not to be.

      He had exactly the right touch, not too firm, not too delicate. And there was something about him, about his size and strength, about the tilt of his head and the mocking glint in his eyes that made her feel small and pretty and feminine. But not just feminine. Desirable. As though she were the only one in the room. The only woman in Los Angeles. California. Make that the planet.

      Her pulse quickened and she found herself staring into his dark eyes, eyes that from far away were black but close like this had the smallest splinters of silver. Those shards of silver made her wonder if it was the lounge’s soft light or the fire that burned within him that made his eyes glow, turning him into some fierce and beautiful work of art.

      Fire and ice.

      The words whispered through her head and wrapped uncomfortably tight around her heart.

      Because that was really who he was, she realized, looking at his face, the hard but expressive sensual features, the glossy black hair, the equally strong black brows.

      “Now you’re staring,” he teased, his hand sliding higher up her back to rub between her shoulder blades, finding the little knots and balls of fear and tension. And magically he smoothed the knots away, rubbing firmer and then lighter, heating her, melting that resistance within her.

      She wasn’t sure when she began to lean into him, seeking his touch, his warmth, but somehow his chest was where she wanted to be.

      The cocktail waitress materialized with their drinks, and Wolf gestured for her to set them on the low table at his elbow. Smiling, she left the drinks and moved on, but not before giving Alexandra a brief inspection from beneath her lowered lashes.

      Alexandra saw the look the waitress had given her and she wondered if everyone would look at her that way.

      Wolf handed her martini glass to her before lifting his. They clinked glasses and Alexandra tilted her chocolate martini to her mouth, curious about a drink she’d heard of but never tried.

      It was smooth, hot, strong, sweet, and she wrinkled her nose as she swallowed.

      “Don’t like it?” Wolf asked, watching her.

      “It’s different.”

      “I take it different is bad.”

      She smiled ruefully. “Different can be good. But in this case, different is just different.”

      “Mmm.” His dark eyes glowed, and she felt, if not saw, the laughter within.

      “You’re not laughing at me, are you?”

      “Actually I am.”

      And as she opened her mouth to protest, he caught the back of her head in his hand and pulled her close to cover her lips with his.

      She inhaled at the sudden touch of his mouth on hers. It was a shock to her senses, his mouth so cool and firm, tasting of sweet chocolate and icy vodka. She shivered, her breasts peaking. At her shiver, his mouth hardened, the kiss deepening, the pressure parting her lips.

      Her head spun, her senses swam, her body danced with pleasure that was as hot and sweet as it was electric.

      The electric part dazzled her all over again, and blindly she leaned into him, searching for him, searching for more of the sensation and pleasure he offered.

      Finally he lifted his head. She blinked, tried to focus, but she could only feel her mouth, soft, swollen, sensitive and it amazed her, this way he had of winning her over, taking her objections and melting them as surely as he’d just melted her.

      Lifting her fingers to her mouth, Alex pressed down on her lips, feeling how the lower lip quivered and how her blood raced in her veins liquid-hot.

      One kiss and she wanted more.

      One kiss and she wanted to slide her hands into his thick ebony hair, twine her fingers through the glossy strands and hold tight, hold his face to hers so she could feel him, his beard and mouth, jaw and chin.

      “You’re looking a little more relaxed,” he said, catching her hand in his and bringing it to his mouth, where he kissed the pulse beating frantically in her wrist.

      “I think it’s the chocolate martini,” she said unsteadily.

      His eyes creased. “I thought it was my kiss.”

      She lifted her glass to her mouth and took a greedy gulp to hide the fact that he was making her nervous all over again. Those butterflies in her stomach had returned, only this time they felt more like forks of jagged lightning.

      The chocolate-flavored martini slid down her throat, cool and tantalizing but also empowering. The cocktail made her feel stronger, calmer than she would have otherwise.

      By the time they headed for home, close to midnight, Alexandra was laughing and surprisingly at ease.

      She didn’t know if it was that first chocolate martini or Wolf making an effort to be charming, but she’d ended up having fun.

      After drinks at the Casa Del Mar they’d driven to Houston’s for steaks and salads and glasses of wine. Again everyone had stared when they’d entered the darkened brick building, and again the hostess had magically found them a table.

      Wolf hadn’t been the only celebrity dining at Houston’s that night, though. There’d been several other well-known entertainers, and two of them, both men, had stopped by their table to say hello.

      Now Wolf was walking her to her door. After she unlocked the door, she stepped inside, and he followed her in, closing the door behind him. For a moment she felt a spike in nerves again, nerves and anticipation. Would he kiss her again?

      But instead of a kiss, he checked each room, made sure everything was as it should be before saying good-night, giving her a platonic peck on the forehead and returning to his car.

      His brotherly kiss jolted her back to reality. The kiss on the forehead was a kiss in private, a kiss behind closed doors and an indication of how things really were.

      She wasn’t his love, wasn’t his girlfriend. She wasn’t even really his date. She was just a girl hired to play a part. Any kisses, any whispers, any sexy innuendos were for the public and the press, wherever the hidden photographers might be.

      Alex leaned against the door and remembered the kisses earlier. There’d been so much heat between them. When he’d kissed her, she’d felt unbelievable. Glamorous. Funny. Delicious.

      “Delicious,”