“More?” she asked.

His gaze flicked down from her eyes to her mouth then back again. “Always.”

A dangerous game. She knew it, but opted to play. And to win. Taking her time, she fed him the next bite. Was the color of his eyes deeper? She didn’t think she was imagining it, nor the waves of desire that seemed to pound over her. Did they come from her, or from him?

On the television, someone broke into raucous laughter. Neither of them noticed. It would be wise to step back now, cautiously. Even as the thought passed through her mind, she opened her mouth for the next taste.

Some things exploded on the tongue, others heated it or tantalized. This was a cool, elegant experience, no less sensual than champagne, no less primitive than ripened fruit. Her nerves began to calm, but her awareness intensified. He was wearing some subtle cologne that made her think of the woods in autumn. His eyes were the deep blue of an evening sky. When his knee brushed hers, she felt a warmth that seeped through two layers of material and touched flesh. Moment after moment passed without her being aware that they weren’t speaking, only slowly, luxuriously, feeding each other. The intimacy wrapped around her, no less intense, no less exciting than lovemaking. The coffee sat cooling. Shadows spread through the room as the sun went down.

“The last bite,” Summer murmured, offering it. “You approve?”

He caught the ends of her hair between his thumb and finger. “Completely.”

Her skin tingled, much too pleasantly. Although she didn’t shift away, Summer set the fork down with great care. She was feeling soft—too soft. And too vulnerable. “One of my clients has a secret passion for éclairs. Four times a year I go to Brittany and make him two dozen. Last fall he gave me an emerald necklace.”

Blake lifted a brow as he twined a strand of her hair around his finger. “Is that a hint?”

“I’m fond of presents,” she said easily. “But then, that sort of thing isn’t quite ethical between business associates.”

As she leaned forward for her coffee, Blake tightened his fingers in her hair and held her still. In the moment her eyes met his, he saw mild surprise and mild annoyance. She didn’t like to be held down by anyone. “Our business association is only one level. We’re both acutely aware of that by this time.”

“Business is the first level, and the first priority.”

“Maybe.” It was difficult to admit, even to himself, that he was beginning to have doubts about that. “In any case, I haven’t any intention of staying at level one.”

If she were ever going to handle him, it would have to be now. Summer draped her arm negligently across the back of the sofa and wished her stomach would unknot. “I’m attracted to you. And I think it should be difficult, and interesting, to work around that for the next few months. You said you wanted to understand me. I rarely explain myself, but I’ll make an exception.” Leaning forward again, she plucked a cigarette from its holder. “Have you a light?”