Free The Duke Takes a Bride (Entitled Book 2) by Suzette de Borja Page B

gaze away only to land on her lips, which were moist, pink, and full. Had she kissed any other man since that last time she had tasted him?
    He had a sudden vision of those lips latched to his nipple, and his cock hardened. Julian shot out of the couch like a cannonball in reverse. He had to remember this was Imogen, his sister’s best friend, who was under his care. Under no circumstance was he going to repeat that crazy incident between them two years ago.
    “That chair is a safety hazard,” he said irritably, turning around to glare at the offensive piece of furniture. “It has to go.”
    He had never had any reason to sit there before. He never entertained in the penthouse, so he had no occasion to use the living room. Hell, he didn’t even know how to operate the modern, sleek-looking fireplace by the wall. He didn’t bring his staff from the U.K. with him when he traveled, preferring to travel light. As for his press secretary, he used temps from Creatus Ventures whenever he needed something done.
    “You’re not a fan of form over function?”
    “I would prefer both.” He walked to one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, keeping his distance. With a flick of the control, the windows turned transparent, allowing him a view of the Hollywood Hills. “Are you hungry?” He should have thought of that earlier.
    She shook her head. “Not really. I’d really just rather have something to drink.”
    “You should eat something. I’ll call the restaurant downstairs. We can have food sent up.”
    “Oh no. I don’t want to be too much of a bother.”
    “You are not being a bother,” he said firmly. “Besides, I have to eat, too.”
    She again looked embarrassed. “In that case, dinner would be lovely. Thank you.” Her English accent was still present, but not as defined.
    “You haven’t turned vegan or pescetarian by any chance?”
    Imogen shook her head and winced, clutching a hand to her temple. “I’ll eat anything. What I meant was, I’m not into any kind of food diet,” she amended quickly. “As long as the pieces are not very big and hard − ”
    Julian tried to keep a straight face while his mind went to the gutter.
    “−and it can slide down my throat easily−”
    He shifted to adjust his pants surreptitiously.
    “−I’ll be able to manage it,” she finished brightly.
    Julian made some excuse about calling the restaurant and dashed the hell out of the living room. He placed the order to distract himself from his body’s reaction to Imogen. That last time two years ago was just a fluke, brought on by too much champagne and jetlag. Just a fluke, he chanted silently like a mantra. She wasn’t even his physical type. She looked like a bedraggled little urchin with her too-big eyes and thin frame. She was ill and for God’s sake, she was Maggie’s best friend. That didn’t stop you before, his inner voice taunted.
    He sighed. Maybe it was time to call Lydia again while he was in California. She wouldn’t make any demands and wouldn’t read more to it than just plain sex. With Imogen, he knew without a doubt it would be bloody complicated. He scowled and dismissed his inappropriate thoughts and blamed it on the upheaval his broken engagement engendered.
    He remained in his study, refusing to feel guilty about leaving Imogen alone in the living room. He checked his e-mails until the doorbell rang. He went into the living room and found Imogen asleep on the couch. After tipping the waiter generously and asking him to set up the food on the six-seater dining table, he gently woke her up. She stirred and blinked owlishly.
    “The food is ready,” he said.
    Julian had ordered roasted pumpkin soup, a green salad with smoked salmon, Chicken Provençale, and sliced fresh fruits for dessert. Imogen tucked into the soup contentedly.
    “I’m on the mend,” she proclaimed with certainty halfway through the meal.
    He quirked an eyebrow at her.
    “My appetite is back.”
    “You didn’t even finish