“It’s better like this. I need the caffeine.” She smiled up at him with those luminous eyes. “And besides, you don’t want my stomach rumbling. Your hall might echo, or something.”

“Right.”

“Besides, we’ve got plenty of time,” she said, wryly. “It’s not like either of us has an office to go to anymore.”

He nodded. She was just so beautiful, and her eyes were laughing, and her mouth was just slightly open. There was a tiny crumb on one corner of it, like a beauty spot. He reached out to brush it away with his thumb.

She tensed, instantly—but not with fear, not with rejection. Hugh felt the softness of her face under his calloused hands, the thud, thud of her heart—and he leaned forward, and kissed her.

Hugh brushed his lips lightly over hers; Sophie sat there, un-moving at first, then offered her mouth to him, just slightly, a little gift—he put his hand behind her head, before he knew what he was doing, and seized her, pulled her to him, sharply; her mouth parted, open, and his tongue trailed across the top of her lips, teasing . . .

She moaned; he slipped his arm lower, around her nothing of a waist, sending the tray of pastries crashing to the stone floor; they slid off the chairs, he was lying next to her on the flagstone floor, on the edge of his Moroccan carpet; everything was alight in his mind, the fire, her dress, the warm blood he felt pulsing between his hands, her belly and breasts as she arced into him . . .

“No,” she said. “No . . . ,” and pushed him back, panting. Flushed. “I’m sorry—”

“It’s okay,” Hugh said.

Damn it. He wanted her. He was aroused beyond measure and horribly frustrated. But he cursed himself. The woman had only just stepped through his front door, he had servants in the kitchen, and he was practically ripping her clothes off?

“It was too soon. I’m sorry. We have plenty of time.” With a herculean effort, he pulled away from her and took her hands in his; they trembled, and he felt the dampness of the adrenaline on her palms. “You’re not going to run away, now, are you?”

Sophie was blushing; he saw the mottling on her skin; yes! Hugh thought, with fierce exultation. She’s frustrated. She wants this too.

“Of course not,” Sophie said. “I just—got carried away.” She smiled, embarrassed. “Technically, it’s only our second date.”

“Right.” He winked at her, and she laughed.

Chapter 40

Chapter 40

It didn’t matter how hard he tried, Tom couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.