The Italian's Bedroom Deal Page 0,4

music?” he suggested, talking to her as if she were three years old and the musicians were playing “Old McDonald”. Clarissa cringed, wishing he could see her as an adult instead of his child. But what could she expect? He probably didn’t know she was twenty five, so how was he expected to treat her that way? The man had attended possibly four of her birthdays over the years. And that attendance lasted for a cumulative total of perhaps thirty minutes, assuming that the staff would ensure that her birthday parties progressed properly.

Sighing, Clarissa leaned forward, giving her father the regulatory kiss on the cheek. “Happy birthday, father,” she said automatically. “It’s a lovely party.”

James looked around proudly. “I think so. I’m flattered everyone’s here to celebrate an old man getting one year older.” The crowd around them heard and did the obvious and expected. They cheered, raising their glasses in salute, some even wishing him a happy twenty-first birthday. Such was the life of a billionaire, she thought sadly. How could her father ever know if someone was sincere? The people milling about certainly didn’t appear to be overly concerned with their host’s health. They were more likely to cause a stink if the champagne or excellent hor’s d’ouevres ran out.

“Well, go ahead and have some fun,” her father dismissed her. “And don’t leave too early,” he admonished. “I know Kelly scheduled a couple more rock singers.”

Clarissa smiled stiffly and stepped away, glad that she’d done her duty and her father considered her mission accomplished. The other guests had seen her greet him, he’d been enthusiastic and fatherly, and now they could go their separate ways.

Sighing, she stepped away and walked over to one of the bars. “Club soda, please,” she ordered, unaware that Max had followed her.

“Bourbon,” he said right beside her, leaning against the bar to watch her carefully.

They picked up their drinks and walked away, Clarissa moving to a more secluded, quieter spot than the center of the party where her father continued to reign as king.

“I take it you’re not a big fan of rock music?” he asked softly, his deep voice soothing over her frazzled nerves.

Clarissa shook her head and looked down at the tiles of the patio. “No. I’m not really a rock fan,” she said softly. Then looked up at him shyly. “But please don’t let me hold you back if you’re interested in the music. I know there’s dancing over by the pool,” she suggested.

Max smiled enigmatically. “I don’t think I’d feel comfortable leaving you in that dress, cara. What did your father say when he saw you?”

Clarissa wasn’t sure how, but she had forgotten about the sexy dress until his admonishment. She shouldn’t have been surprised at his comment, especially when the dress had been purchased solely to lure him, wasn’t what she was hoping for. She shook her head in frustration. A femme fatale, she wasn’t. “I doubt my father even realized what color my dress is,” she said as she looked back at the party and took a seat on the bench behind her.

“Ah, well, I’ll have to inform him that it is a very pretty pink with small roses across the back and a very….feminine cut.”

Clarissa perked up. He’d noticed? She turned her soft blue eyes to his, searching his features hopefully as he looked down at her. The man was too gorgeous for words, she thought. And if only she could figure out how to entice him, her evening would be perfect. He was so tall, she thought. And muscular! Her heart skipped a beat as his sexy, bedroom eyes smiled down at her. Her eyes moved lower, looking at the lips she longed to kiss, wondering if he would be a demanding lover or a soft, affectionate one. She shivered at the idea, knowing that anyone as overwhelmingly male as Max would be demanding. The man positively oozed sex appeal, she thought.

Unfortunately, instead of some witty, seductive remark that would encourage him in some not-so-subtle way, all she could manage was a pathetic, “Thank you,” in response.

“You’re welcome. Would you dance with me?” he asked with supreme confidence that she would accept. The music had changed from a hard thumping rock beat to a softer, jazzier tempo.

And of course, she did. She slid her hand through his arm, allowing him to guide her through the throngs of people and onto the hardwood dance floor that had been specially built for tonight’s party.

Sliding into his arms,