“That?” He stared at the bags. “All of that?”

Immediately she began to nibble on her thumbnail. “It’s too much, isn’t it? I knew it. I got caught up. I can take some of it back or just keep it for myself. I don’t take enough time to draw anymore.”

He’d walked over to examine the bags, the boxes inside. “All of this?” With a laugh, he straightened, shook his head. “He’ll love it. He’ll go nuts.”

“I don’t want him to think of it as a bribe, like I’m trying to buy his affection. I don’t know what got into me. Once I started, I couldn’t seem to stop.”

“If I were you, I’d stop questioning my motives for doing something nice, something impulsive, and just a bit over the top.” Gently he tugged at her hand. “And stop biting your nails.”

“I’m not biting my nails. I never . . .” Insulted, she looked down at her hand, saw the ragged thumbnail. “Oh, God, I’m biting my nails. I haven’t done that since I was fifteen. Where’s my nail file?”

Phillip edged closer to her as she grabbed her handbag and took out a small manicure set. “Were you a nervous kid?”

“Hmm?”

“A nail-biter.”

“It was a bad habit, that’s all.” Smoothly, efficiently, she began to repair the damage.

“A nervous habit, wouldn’t you say, Dr. Griffin?”

“Perhaps. But I broke it.”

“Not entirely. Nail biting,” he murmured, moving toward her. “Migraines.”

“Only occasionally.”

“Skipping meals,” he continued. “Don’t bother to tell me you’ve eaten tonight. I know better. It seems to me that your breathing and concentrating isn’t quite doing the job on stress. Let’s try my way again.”

“I really have to go.” She was already being drawn into his arms. “Before it gets too late.”

“It’s already too late.” He brushed his lips over hers once, twice. “You really have to stay. It’s dark, it’s cold, it’s raining,” he murmured, nibbling on, toying with her lips. “And you’re a terrible driver.”

“I’m just . . .” The nail file slipped out of her fingers. “Out of practice.”

“I want to take you to bed. I want to take you to my bed.” The next kiss was deeper, longer, wetter. “I want to slip you out of that lovely little suit, piece by piece, and see what’s going on under it.”

“I don’t know how you do this.” Her breath was already coming too fast, her body going too soft. “I can’t keep my thoughts aligned when you’re touching me.”

“I like them scattered.” He slid his hands under her trim jacket until his thumbs skimmed the sides of her breasts. “I like you scattered. And trembling. It makes me want to do all sorts of things to you when you tremble.”

Quick flares of heat, sharp stabs of ice were already racing over her. “What sorts of . . . things?”

He made a low, delighted sound against the side of her throat. “I’ll show you,” he offered, and picked her up.