“Making a quick getaway?” Felicity stood in the doorway taking in the scene: the open but fully packed suitcase on the bed, Marek’s trench coat flung over the table. He was on his way out. No denying the evidence.

Marek sat in the armchair by the window, his face tight, his eyes haunted. “I’m sitting here, in a chair, right? Aren’t the words ‘a quick getaway’ somewhat of an exaggeration?” He drawled the words out slowly, mockingly.

“Okay then. A slow getaway.”

He stared at her, unable to pull his eyes away. Her face was pale, her expression wild. Loose tendrils of hair shadowed her neck, calling attention to the slow throb of veins under the delicate skin. She looked sexy as hell. Tempting and far too dangerous to think about.

“Not quick, not slow. Neither one of the above. No getaway.” His voice was icy, impersonal.

“That!” Her arm waved wildly, gesticulated in the direction of the suitcase. A sharp, searing feeling of betrayal mixed with humiliation kept her tense, unrelenting. “I mean, if you want me out of here, all you have to do is tell me. Since you’re obviously desperate to get rid of me.” She felt as if she’d been stabbed. She crossed the room slowly until she was standing beside him, staring down at him, her eyes flashing with determination and fury. “But let’s not forget you were the one who invited me up here. Remember? I didn’t ask to be put up in your hotel room.”

But you might have done so. If he hadn’t taken matters into his own hands. Well, never again. Never. Your time is up as far as I’m concerned, Marek Sumner!

He stood up, studied her for a minute, silently.

“God, you’re beautiful.” It was as if the words had been wrenched out of him, as if he would have given anything not to say them, but they made her heart stand still.