But Eden wasn’t about to be deterred. She hitched her right leg up along his hip and tucked his hand beneath her thigh, then began to move against him again.

“If you don’t stop that, we’re never going to get out of here.” Marcus bent her back at the waist and pressed his mouth to her neck.

Eden turned around and rubbed her backside against his crotch again. “I knew you’d like it,” she said.

But Marcus liked it a bit too much. With a playful growl, he grabbed her around the waist, picked her up off her feet and carried her toward the bed. They both tumbled onto the mattress, and he stretched out on top of her, pinning her arms above her head. His mouth came down on hers, and Eden lost herself in his kiss, the familiar taste of him like an addictive drug.

“Don’t you think it’s strange?” he murmured, nipping at her lower lip.

“What?”

“I teach you how to do your laundry and you teach me how to dance and each time we manage to make it about sex.” He nuzzled her neck. “Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever get enough of you.”

Eden swallowed hard. This would have to be enough. She was leaving tomorrow. They had one night left together. If they stayed in this apartment, she knew she’d begin to question her decision. “Good. I want to leave you wanting more. I’m going to haunt your dreams at night and inhabit your fantasies during the day. I plan to make your life miserable once I’m gone.”

Marcus stared down at her, the smile fading from his face. “You will. I know you will.”

Eden wriggled out from beneath him, uneasy with his shift in mood. “Good. Now get dressed. We’re going out and we are going to dance.”

Marcus rolled over on the bed and covered his face with his hands. “All right,” he said. “But I’m going to have to take a cold shower before we go. And if you do that to me again at the club, I’m going to be forced to drag you into a dark corner and deal with the situation in the proper way.”

“I’m counting on that,” Eden teased.

8

THE DANCE FLOOR WAS crowded, lights flashing in time with the music and the noise deafening. Marcus held Eden around her waist as they moved. He felt people’s eyes on them, but he took his cue from Eden and pretended he didn’t care.

It was an odd feeling, being the center of attention. Thankfully no one had come up to bother them or ask for Eden’s autograph. The club catered to the wealthy summer crowd in Newport, and the manager had been more than happy to usher Marcus and Eden inside ahead of the rest of the line and provide them with a table in a quiet corner.

A waitress had appeared just moments after they’d sat down with a bottle of Cristal and two champagne flutes. Marcus had reached for his wallet, but the waitress had assured him that the bottle was on the house.

Once he got used to the fact that he was drinking two-hundred-dollar champagne as if it was water, Marcus began to enjoy himself. There was an infectious energy in the club that wasn’t present in the establishments he usually visited. Pool and darts were the main activities at his local pub, and that usually involved drunk men and not scores of beautiful gyrating females.

The music began to wind down, and Marcus bent his head and gave Eden a slow kiss. She smiled up at him, slightly tipsy from the champagne they’d drunk. “Isn’t this fun?”

“It is,” Marcus admitted. “Are you getting tired?”

She nodded. “Take me home. I want to tear off your clothes and make crazy love to you for the rest of the night.”

He glanced around. “Let’s go then.” Marcus laced his fingers through hers and led the way to the door, Eden walking behind him as he pushed through the crowd. When they reached the bar, he flagged down their waitress and gave her a generous tip, then continued toward the exit.

Outside, the air was cool, a breeze coming off the ocean. Marcus wove through the small group still waiting to get inside, and Eden held on to his arm, leaning into him. Everyone stared, but Marcus pasted a smile on his face and nodded at people as he passed.

“Hey, Eden Ross! It’s Eden Ross!”

The guy came out of nowhere, his video camera clutched in his hand. At first, Marcus didn’t understand what he was saying. But then Eden’s fingers tightened on his arm, digging into his biceps. She stepped behind him again, hiding from the curious looks of the crowd.

Marcus held out his hand to warn the guy off, but he continued to approach, staggering as though he’d had too much to drink.

The video camera focused on Marcus now, and Marcus quickly moved his hand in front of the lens. “Hey, buddy, just turn that thing off. We don’t want our picture taken, all right?”

“Jus’ lemme get a picture of her. Who gives a rat’s ass about you?”

Marcus cursed as the man tried to muscle his way past him. He grabbed his arm and gave it a yank, but the guy turned on him, swinging with his free hand. Eden screamed and scampered back, but Marcus had no intention of running from this fight.

“Hey, Eden, is this your new man?” the drunk asked. “Why don’t you both just do it right here on the sidewalk and I’ll tape it? We can all make a million.”

Marcus wasn’t sure what happened next, only that it involved pure instinct and no reasoning at all. His fist came up and connected with the drunk’s nose, and the guy staggered, then fell backward onto the pavement. Marcus bent down and grabbed the video camera, searching for a way to extract the tape.

The drunk’s wife started screaming for someone to call an ambulance and the police, and an instant later the bouncer stepped into the fight, grabbing Marcus from behind. The bouncer had at least fifty pounds on him, but Marcus had been schooled in street fighting from an early age. He brought his heel down on the bouncer’s instep, and the moment his grip loosened Marcus spun on him.

In one sure movement, he tossed the video camera to Eden, then gave the bouncer a swift uppercut to the chin. The punch had little effect beyond a momentary stun, and the bouncer returned with a cross that grazed Marcus’s eye.

Marcus noticed the drunk stumbling to his feet and decided that retreat was in order. He wasn’t about to fight them both. He held up his hands as if to surrender, and when the bouncer lowered his fists, Marcus took off. He grabbed Eden’s hand and pulled her across the street. “We have to get out of here,” he shouted. “Right now.”

The crowd surged toward them as if to get a better look at Eden. But Marcus knew the streets of Newport well enough to make a quick escape. They ducked down a side street, then cut back through an alley. Eden was slowed by the sexy shoes she’d decided to wear, but they managed to reach Marcus’s truck in less than a minute. Marcus helped Eden inside, then grabbed a baseball cap from behind the seat and put it on his head. He hopped in the driver’s side and placed his hand on Eden’s shoulder. “Get down,” he ordered.

Eden did as she was told and they wound through the back streets until they were well away from downtown. “That was a mess,” Marcus muttered, steering the car toward the Newport Bridge.

Eden sat up and stared out the rear window. “I’m sorry.”

He glanced in the rearview mirror. “I don’t think they’re following us.”

“Who?”

“The photographers,” he said. “The guy with the video camera.”

“He wasn’t a photographer,” she said. “I think he was just a tourist. Usually the tabloid photographers wear credentials. That way, they don’t get beat up.”

Marcus cursed beneath his breath. “Great. I just assaulted some poor git from upstate New Hampshire just to protect your honor.”

“You really hit him hard,” she said. Eden held up the video camera he’d tossed to her during the fight. “And you stole his camera.”

“Me? You stole it. I just wanted you to get the tape out. This is why I didn’t want to go to that club. I warned you.”

“Why are you so upset? I go through this all the time. Everywhere I go there are people taking my picture and shouting questions at me. You just have to ignore them.”

“I don’t need my picture taken,” he said.

“Why? Are you ashamed to be seen with me?” Eden asked.

Marcus stared out the windshield at the late-night traffic over the bridge. “Don’t be ridiculous. We went out, didn’t we?”

“Then what’s the problem? I thought we were having fun. Don’t let some tourist with a camera ruin our whole night.”

“I just can’t stand by while some idiot insults you. Did you hear what he said?”

Eden sank back down in the seat, her arms crossed over her chest. “Of course I did. But I didn’t let it get to me. He was drunk, and a lot of people think celebrities are fair game. I’ve just learned to let it roll off my back, Marcus. He doesn’t make a difference to me.”

“Then who does?”

“You do,” Eden snapped. “My mother and father do, to some extent, although that can be hit-and-miss at times. Some of my friends-but not many. And Sarah, my father’s housekeeper, and Maria. And that’s about it. Oh, and your mother. I hope that she has a good opinion of me.”

Marcus glanced over his shoulder as they turned onto the bridge. “I don’t want to provide amusement for some lady waiting on line at the grocery store.”

They drove the rest of the way to Marcus’s place in silence. He wasn’t angry, just frustrated. He and Eden were like a runaway train, heading for the end of their relationship at top speed, and there was nothing he could do about it. At this rate, there was destined to be a huge crash with at least one casualty-him.

In the past, he’d never given a second thought to breakups. In most cases, he was glad to be free of the responsibility for some woman’s happiness. But with Eden, he was loath to face the inevitable.

He craved the feel of her naked body against his, the sensation of sinking into her moist heat and the act of bringing them both to a mindless ecstasy. It wasn’t just the sex. He loved spending time with her. He loved falling asleep with her in his arms and waking up to her sweet smile. He loved her.