Chapter Nine
Portia looked back in the mirror and examined her face. Was it obvious that she’d put on a little more makeup than usual? Hell, who was she kidding? She rarely ever wore more than the occasional eyeliner, and today she sported not only that, but also mascara, lip gloss, some rouge, and a little eye shadow. Another critical look in the bathroom mirror confirmed it. She had lost all her good senses and painted her face for the one person who would ignore her anyway: Zane.
Portia tossed the washcloth in the sink, annoyed at herself. There was no reason why she should be attracted to this jerk whose only mission was to keep her away from her male fellow students or any other men who could become a danger to her virginity. And who was keeping her away from Zane? Was this her father’s ultimate punishment, to dangle the hottest stuff since the invention of the Chippendales in front of her when she knew Zane saw her as only a pesky annoyance?
Well, she’d show him that he could shove his indifference up his ass and prove to everybody that there was somebody out there who’d be more than happy to liberate her from her virginity.
Portia heard the front door open and Oliver exchange a few words with Zane. At the sound of his voice, her knees wobbled, and butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She braced herself on the sink for support. This was not good. If she couldn’t bring her body’s reactions under control, she couldn’t face him.
His vampire hearing would pick up on her rapid heartbeat as well as on the fact that she was emitting pheromones. She’d learned enough in biology to realize that much, and her own acute senses told her that her body was doing exactly that. This wouldn’t work. Portia grabbed her cell phone and typed a text message to Lauren: wr lots of Chanel & bring it w/ u. C u in 15.
With a deep breath, she opened the bathroom door and went downstairs. As she’d expected, Zane had installed himself on the couch at an angle that allowed him to see both the stairs and the front door.
She didn’t miss the instant flaring of Zane’s nostrils the moment she reached the foot of the stairs. The accompanying spark in his eyes could have been an optical illusion, had he not instantly clenched his hands into fists as if trying to fight something or someone off. There was no doubt in her mind that he could smell her arousal. A thought shot through her mind. Maybe that was actually a good thing and would make her plan for tonight easier to execute than she’d thought.
“Evening, Zane,” she said politely and approached the couch. Oh, yeah, it was best if he got a really good whiff of her tonight.
His eyes narrowed in suspicion even as he answered her greeting. “Portia.” Then he swept a long look over her before his eyes lingered on her face. “Up to something tonight?”
The mocking tone in his voice almost made her lash out at him, but she reigned herself in. “I’m wearing jeans and a t-shirt, hardly an outfit for going out.”
He didn’t buy it. “What’s with the makeup?”
“What are you suddenly, my father? I can wear makeup whenever I please.”
Zane jumped up, and a second later stood only a foot from her. “You wouldn’t be wearing that makeup for me, would you?”
Anger churned inside her, but she used all her restraint not to let this arrogant jerk see it. It wouldn’t serve her, not tonight. “Please! You’re my bodyguard, nothing more.” Her heart beat high into her throat, making it difficult to keep her voice even and indifferent. “I wear makeup all the time.”
Zane moved closer, his sinful body now only inches from touching hers. “Is that so?” His eyes lowered to her lips, and she instinctively licked them.
The rumble coming from Zane’s chest could only be a suppressed groan. Maybe he was feeling not quite as indifferent toward her as he pretended.
Portia closed her eyes for a second, allowing her other senses to guide her. The first thing she noticed was his masculine scent. It was stronger now than when she’d first entered the living room. As she took it deep into her lungs, she couldn’t stop her body from reacting to it. A shiver slithered down her back.
Heat suddenly seared her body, making her open her eyes to find the source. Zane stood flush against her. Had he crossed the remaining inches of space between them or had she? She wanted to pull back and sever the contact when he pressed his palm into her lower back and yanked her against him. In an instant, all her previous thoughts fled to be replaced by a single realization: Zane was turned on by her. The hard outline of his erection pressing against her soft flesh left no doubt about it.
His heartbeat echoed hers, and his eyes glowed now. There were only two instances when a vampire’s eyes glowed: when in fighting mode, or when aroused.