partly because he just needed to.
Smiling at her dazed expression, he strode out, feeling oddly satisfied for someone who was closer to blueballs than any man had ever been.
Chapter Twelve
The house her brother Tony had rented for her was ridiculous. Too big, too grand, and entirely too ostentatious. But it had three ingredients Daniela loved.
The basement. She shuddered, thinking of living down there, but it made Marley happy, and that was all that mattered.
The bathtub in her room. The bathroom itself looked like it belonged in a bordello, with all the red accents and gold fixtures, but the tub was excellent. A modern remake of a deep claw-footed tub, it was perfect for soaking after being on her feet all day.
And the view from the kitchen nook.
Daniela sat there with her coffee and stared out on the trees populating the Presidio. She liked starting her mornings out here—it felt like she was almost in the woods—a unique sensation for a city girl.
This morning, though, instead of seeing the eucalyptus trees edging the back of the house, she just saw Nico's face, flushed with desire.
Wanting her.
She fanned herself. Every time she thought about what they'd done in the showroom kitchen she got hot and bothered all over again. She wasn't sure she'd ever be able to bake in there without remembering how he'd seduced her with his words and his touch.
She'd wanted to be seduced though. Badly, and only by him.
She hadn't heard from Ken regarding the bidding war. Maybe she should make a move on Nico right away, because as soon as one of them bought the building their flirtation would certainly end.
"Daniela, here you are." Marley strode into the kitchen with her briskly efficient walk. "I need to talk to you about a couple things."
She sighed. Marley was a godsend—she couldn't have asked for a better assistant. But sometimes she wanted to tell the young woman to get a life. "Now's not a good time."
"Yes, I can see you're busy."
"Was that sarcasm?" Daniela frowned. "And are you wearing pink?"
The younger woman flushed, touching her sweater defensively. "You bought it for me, and I have black on under it."
She tried to remember the last time Marley had worn anything other than black and drew a blank. "But you never wear anything I give you."
"That's a mistake I'm trying to rectify." Her assistant sat across from her. "We have a couple things we need to discuss. As you know, the clock is ticking down for accepting the Food Network offer. Everyone's eager for your answer."
"No."
Her assistant blinked owlishly at her. "No, they aren't eager?"
"No, I'm not accepting. You know what I mean. Don't play dumb."
Marley took a deep breath, as though she were counting to keep her cool. "Okay, let's talk about Sophie Martineau's birthday party."
"Marley." Daniela leaned forward. "Don't tell me you really want to discuss an aging diva's necessity for status. Because that's all my cake will be to her. She'll order it and coo over it, but she won't even have one bite because she'll worry that it'll add cellulite to her hips and that no amount of lighting will cover it up in her next nude scene."
Her assistant prissied up. "Well, those are the business items we need to take care of."
"Consider them discussed and decided on."
"Daniela—"
Fortunately her cell phone rang right then. She looked at the screen and thanked God it wasn't her brother. "Gotta take this," she said even though the number was blocked. She answered it with "Daniela Rossi."
"Meet me tonight," a dark, earthy voice commanded.
She flushed instantly. "Do you think I'll jump when you tell me to?"
Nico chuckled. "Jumping wasn't what I had in mind, but if you're into that..."
She couldn't help grinning. She probably looked like an idiot, but she really didn't care—not with the prospect of being ravaged by him on the program. "One condition."
"Name it."
"No business, no hidden agendas. This'll only be about us."
"Deal."
"Seven o'clock," she told him. "Pick me up. I assume since you somehow got my cell phone number you also know where I live."
"I know a whole lot about you, baby, including the way you cry out when you come."
Her face burned hot. Aware of her assistant's curious gaze taking in every detail, she turned away. "Fine. If that's how you want to play it."
"It's definitely how I want to play, Daniela. Seven, sharp." He hung up.
She practically wilted with desire as she set her phone down. What was she going to wear? And, more importantly, what