Читать книгу: «Millionaire's Woman: The Millionaire's Prospective Wife / The Millionaire's Runaway Bride / The Millionaire's Reward», страница 3

‘It happens.’ His voice was dry.

‘Not with me it doesn’t.’ She glared at him.

‘I’m very pleased to hear it.’

He was laughing at her! Oh, not openly, but she knew amusement was there in the tone of his voice and the way the firm, hard mouth was trying not to smile. ‘You can let go of me for this dance,’ she said frostily.

‘Perhaps I don’t want to let you go.’

‘People are looking.’

‘Let them look.’ He bent his head and skimmed her mouth with his lips. ‘There, that’ll give them something to talk about,’ he said evenly.

For one giddy instant the room swam. The caress had been too fleeting to be called a kiss but she’d felt the contact right down to her Covent Garden shod toes. She blinked. ‘Don’t do that, please,’ she said as firmly as her breathing would allow. ‘It’s not in the agreement.’

‘We didn’t discuss the finer points, if I remember correctly.’

Cory ignored the little flame that had been ignited deep inside and frowned at him. ‘Perhaps because I thought it wasn’t necessary and that you were a gentleman.’

He grinned, completely unabashed. ‘Big mistake,’ he said cheerfully.

She ought to be furious at the arrogance but instead she found herself trying not to smile. But she couldn’t let him suspect that. ‘Shall I spell it out for you then?’

‘Please do,’ he said politely, laughter glinting in his eyes.

‘I agreed to come here tonight because I’m in your debt about Rufus, but acting as your—’

‘Girlfriend?’ he put in helpfully.

‘Companion,’ she corrected firmly, ‘only necessitates the most elementary bodily contact.’

He looked as though he was enjoying himself. ‘Define elementary,’ he said interestedly, his hand at her waist finding bare skin through one of the carefully positioned leaf transparencies and stroking it almost absent-mindedly.

Cory took a steadying breath. ‘In this context elementary means straightforward, simple.’ Her skin was melting. ‘Rudimentary,’ she added desperately.

His head tilted as though he was considering what she’d just said. ‘Sorry, can’t agree to that.’ His eyes danced over her hot face. ‘Call it the interest on the debt if you like, but for this evening you’re my consort and I’m not the kind of guy who is happy with…elementary bodily contact.’

In the same moment that the music finished Cory noticed David and the blonde at their elbow, the other man’s close set eyes fastened avidly on their faces. It was enough to break the spell of Nick’s closeness, and it enabled her to jerk away out of his arms. ‘I’d like to sit down now, please.’

‘Sure.’ He took her hand, weaving his way through the couples on the dance floor and pulling out her chair for her when they reached their table.

Had David Blackwell been listening to their exchange? Cory tried to think exactly what had been said and what impression an eavesdropper might have formed as she sipped at her champagne, but it was difficult with the music and conversation all around. Making the excuse that she needed to visit the Ladies’ cloakroom, she rose from the table, vitally aware of Nick’s eyes on her as she left the room although she didn’t glance his way.

Once in the relative quiet of the reception area she found the cloakroom—an elaborate affair of marble and mirrors—and sat down on one of the cream cushioned seats in the outer area to repair her lipstick. As her mind continued to dissect all that had been said on the dance floor she had to stop herself from groaning out loud. It might have sounded almost as if she was a hired escort of the most basic kind to anyone who didn’t know the true facts.

She put the lipstick back in her purse, fiddling with her hair as her mind sped on. But then what she’d thought earlier still applied—she’d never see any of these people again so it didn’t matter how they viewed her. She just didn’t like someone like the Blackwell man getting the wrong idea, that was all. Admittedly she didn’t know him but the guy gave her the creeps.

She straightened her back, her eyes narrowing as she stared at the reflection in the mirror. She wasn’t going to worry about David Blackwell or anyone else for that matter. She’d fulfil her obligations tonight and make sure she went home alone in a taxi in view of Nick’s earlier comments. She wasn’t sure if he would be crass enough to try anything on when she’d made it clear how she felt, but she wouldn’t give him the chance. The man was dangerous—she refused to qualify to herself that it was her response to him that was dangerous—and she didn’t need any complications in her life at the moment.

When she stepped out of the cloakroom Cory had only taken a couple of steps when David caught hold of her wrist. He made her jump, having come up behind her, and her voice was sharp as she shook her hand free and said, ‘Don’t do that, please.’

‘Sorry, sorry.’ He was smiling but she’d noticed before that his smiles didn’t reach his eyes. ‘I just wanted a word with you, that’s all.’

‘Couldn’t it have waited until we’re at the table?’

‘In private.’ His voice was low. ‘I wanted to speak to you in private, Cory.’

She didn’t like the way he spoke her name in that slightly conspiratorial tone and her voice reflected this when she said, ‘I don’t know you. How could we have anything to discuss privately?’

‘Look, I’ll come clean.’

He was too close and the amount of aftershave he was wearing was making her feel nauseous. It had a sickly sweet scent with a tang of something else beneath it, much like the man himself, she suspected.

‘I couldn’t help overhearing what you and Nick were saying on the dance floor and I take it you aren’t his actual girlfriend?’

Cory stared into the weasely face. Was this a come-on, because if it was he’d get more than he’d bargained for.

When she neither confirmed nor denied this, he went on, ‘The thing is, I suppose you know he’s just taken over the firm, lock, stock and barrel? A lot of people were upset at first but they’ve all gone quiet, pay-offs I suppose,’ he added bitterly.

Where was this going? ‘That’s nothing to do with me.’

‘I know that but—’ He paused. ‘Look, it was clear from what he said that he fancies you and that you aren’t interested. Most women fall in adoration at his feet.’ Again hot resentment came through loud and strong. ‘That being the case, I’d make it worth your while if you could find out a couple of things for me.’

‘What?’ She stared at him in absolute amazement.

‘If you just jollied him along I’m sure he’d talk to you. You know, pillow talk. You could ask him about the takeover and how people were, whether he paid on the quiet to get Martin’s co-operation, things like that. I reckon I’m the only one who hasn’t had a backhander and it’s not fair.’

He wanted a backhander? She’d give him one right round his nasty little face if he said another word. And pillow talk? How dared he? ‘If you want to know anything about Mr Morgan’s dealings with the rest of your associates I suggest you ask him yourself,’ Cory said icily. ‘OK?’

His eyes narrowed at her tone but then a wheedling note came into his voice. ‘That’d be no good, facing him head on like that. It’s the ladies who are his weakness. You could get more out of him with just being friendly than I could in a month of Sundays. He wouldn’t suspect anything if that’s what’s worrying you. He’s used to women throwing themselves at him all the time.’

‘Really?’ If she’d been anywhere else but her present surroundings, Cory would have socked him on the jaw. ‘And I wonder why that is? Could it be that he is a real man rather than a snivelling little excuse for one? You picked the wrong woman to ask to do your dirty work, Mr Blackwell, and the minute I go back into that room Mr Morgan will be told of your proposition, all right?’

‘That won’t be necessary.’

The deep, cold voice behind them made them both jump a mile, and Cory found herself tottering on the exorbitantly high heels for a breathtaking moment. Like David, she’d spun round with more haste than care. Righting herself, she saw a different Nick from the one she’d known all evening. This one was frightening.

‘Nick.’ David’s voice was sickeningly obsequious. ‘This isn’t what you think.’

‘Save it.’ The blue eyes could have been cut from granite. ‘This isn’t the time or the place. My office on Monday morning. Eight o’clock sharp.’

‘But let me explain—’

‘There’s no time, you’re leaving.’ Nick raised his hand and as though by magic one of the staff was at his elbow. ‘Would you be so good as to tell Miss Miller on table twelve that Mr Blackwell is waiting out here for her, please?’

As the man hurried away David tried again, and Cory felt like telling him it was no use.

Nick cut into David’s servile excuses after the first sentence. ‘We might just keep this civilised if you disappear right now,’ he said grimly, ‘but don’t push your luck, David. Not tonight. Ah, Fiona…’ As the blonde appeared with a puzzled expression on her pretty face, Nick waved his hand at David, saying, ‘I’m afraid David is indisposed but I’m sure he’ll see you safely home. Goodnight.’

As Nick took Cory’s arm and walked her away, he murmured, ‘Do you want a few minutes to compose yourself before we join the others?’

Did birds fly? Her head was spinning and she didn’t know if she was on foot or horseback. She nodded, and the next minute she found herself ensconced in the cocktail bar, which was now almost completely deserted. Sinking down on to a seat, she said faintly, ‘What will you do to him?’

‘Don’t worry about David Blackwell; his type always come up smelling of roses.’ As the waiter came over, Nick said to her, ‘Another cocktail?’

‘Is it possible to have a coffee instead?’ She felt a little tipsy as it was.

‘Make that two, please.’

The waiter looked as though he was going to protest for a moment, but after a glance at Nick’s face he said quickly, ‘Two coffees it is, sir,’ and disappeared.

‘For the record, there have been no hand-outs.’ Nick looked her straight in the eye. ‘It’s true Martin didn’t want to relinquish the reins but we reached a compromise where we’re both happy. Unfortunately the guy’s too soft for his own good and has carried a lot of dead wood for years—like David Blackwell—so there will be changes to be made. I’m sure David’s got wind of that and is feeling threatened.’

‘I think he feels a lot more threatened now.’

‘With good cause.’ And then so suddenly that it made Cory catch her breath, his face changed, his voice warm and throaty as he said, ‘Thanks for being on my side out there.’

She didn’t know what to say. She shrugged uncomfortably. If he’d heard the bit about the hand-outs he’d been there longer than she would have liked.

Like before, he seemed to know what she was thinking, his voice now holding a thread of amusement when he murmured, ‘I especially liked the bit about me being a real man.’

‘A gentleman wouldn’t mention he’d heard that,’ she said, knowing she’d gone a bright crimson.

‘I thought we’d already ascertained that I’m not a gentleman.’ His smile lit the flame inside again and this time it burnt stronger.

Cory was very glad when the coffee arrived a moment later.

CHAPTER THREE

CONTRARY to what she had expected after the unpleasant incident with David Blackwell, Cory found she thoroughly enjoyed the rest of the evening.

When they returned to the table Nick said briefly that David was feeling unwell and had had to leave early. Which was true in a way. The other man had certainly looked green about the gills when they’d left him.

No one seemed particularly concerned or interested that David and Fiona were no longer with them; in fact with the young man’s departure the whole group seemed more relaxed and natural, in Cory’s opinion. She wondered just how much David had been whispering in people’s ears about Nick. A little yeast could very quickly work through a batch of dough, and David had seemed resentful of Nick as a person as well as an employer, as the remarks about Nick being popular with the ladies had shown.

Everyone stayed right to the end of the evening at three o’clock, whereupon they all declared they’d had a night to remember. Cory could agree with this as a good part of it had been spent in Nick’s arms on the dance floor.

She’d put the idea of going home in a taxi to one side. Somehow the episode with David had taken her and Nick beyond such a thing. Now, as everyone said goodnight amid hugs and handshakes, the possibility that Nick might expect more than a goodnight peck was at the forefront of her mind. It excited her as much as it scared her. She couldn’t get involved with Nick—every nerve and bone in her body was telling her so. He was way, way out of her league in every respect.

He’d probably not want to see her again anyway. Men the whole world over seemed capable of nipping in and out of bed with this woman or that without it really meaning a thing to them and, from what David had said, Nick was never short of female company.

But she was jumping the gun here. He hadn’t suggested bed. He hadn’t suggested anything.

Slow down, she warned herself silently. Stop panicking. You are a grown woman of twenty-five who is more than capable of taking care of herself in every way, not a fifteen-year-old schoolgirl.

They waited until all of Nick’s guests were safely on their way home in the fleet of taxis he’d ordered, and then he led her over to the Mercedes, which was parked across the road. ‘Care to come back to my place for a nightcap?’ he asked softly as he opened the car door for her.

‘No.’ It was too quick and now she moderated her refusal with a smile as she said, ‘I’m exhausted; it’s been a long day.’

He nodded, joining her in the car and sliding the glass panel which separated them from the driver to one side. ‘Back to Miss James’s place please, George,’ he said quietly before closing it shut again and then pulling a blind down so they were now quite private.

Cory went into overdrive. More flustered than she’d ever been in her life, she searched for something, anything, to distract him. Then she found herself saying, ‘I wondered if we’d see your friend, Alex, tonight but he didn’t appear.’

‘He’s in the States.’

‘Really?’ She was burningly aware of a hard male thigh against hers. ‘On holiday or business?’

‘Holiday.’

‘In what state?’ she gabbled. ‘America’s such a huge country, isn’t it, and so fascinating. I think—’

She never did tell him what she thought because he kissed her. Really kissed her. And it was everything she’d imagined it might be. Hot, stunningly sweet and altogether mind-blowing.

She could tell he was devastatingly experienced, a man who would know a woman’s weakness and just how to use it for his own advantage in the seduction stakes. The warning in her mind was there but it didn’t mean a thing while his mouth was working its magic and his arms were pressing her close to his hardness.

Almost leisurely, he explored her mouth until her heart thudded wildly against the steady beat of his and she was kissing him back in total surrender.

This was crazy, insane. She knew that, knew she had to call a halt before things got out of hand, but it was impossible with her blood singing through her veins and molten lava in the pit of her stomach. His hands were clever, stroking her arms and the smooth roundness of her shoulders until her skin was on fire with his caresses.

She gave herself over totally to the kiss, knowing the danger of letting herself become vulnerable to this man but unable to help herself. He kissed so well; she had never been kissed like this in all her life. She’d found most men used a kiss as a preliminary to other things but Nick seemed in no hurry to progress, seemingly enjoying her mouth as much as she was relishing his.

His hands moved up to her hair and within a moment it was falling down about her shoulders, silky soft and smelling of apple blossom shampoo. His fingers tangled themselves in the rich strands, using them to draw her head backwards to allow him greater access to the sensitive skin of her throat.

Cory moaned softly, her hands sliding over the powerful male chest muscles flexing beneath his shirt. The faint scent of aftershave she’d noticed earlier was teasing her nostrils again, its essence wild and dangerous, feeding her desire with its elusive aroma.

She heard him whisper her name as his mouth came back to hers, his voice husky. She knew what he wanted because she wanted it too, and it didn’t seem to matter where they were or what the rest of the world was doing.

The thought was enough to bring her abruptly to her senses. This was a William Patterson situation all over again. He’d had charisma and that extra something which was undefinable but which made a woman go weak at the knees. He had pursued her, using his wealth and magnetism to dazzling effect until she hadn’t known if black was white. She’d been wary at first. Why would a man like William, fifteen years older than her, rich, successful, be bothering with a little nobody fresh out of university? She’d been right to be wary. She should have gone on being wary…

She had stopped kissing Nick back and unconsciously stiffened as the memories had flooded in, and now she became aware that he had picked up on her withdrawal as he drew away. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked very quietly, but without the annoyance or irritation she’d half-expected.

‘I…I don’t do this, not on the first date.’ Although it wasn’t a date, as she’d reminded him this evening. Which made everything a hundred times worse.

‘You don’t kiss?’

His voice was still without expression and, because she could only catch glimpses of his face now and again by the light of passing streetlamps, she had no idea if he was angry or not. She didn’t know how to answer him. How could she say that what they’d just shared had been more than a kiss, at least to her? That would give all the wrong signals. And to admit she had presumed it was the prelude to something more would be even worse.

Cory swallowed. ‘Not like this, no.’

‘Like this?’

‘In…in the back of a car.’ She swallowed again. ‘A goodnight kiss on the doorstep is one thing, but this is more…’

‘Intimate?’ he finished for her.

‘Yes.’

‘Nice, though.’ There was warmth in his voice now and she was glad of the darkness to hide her burning cheeks. There was a pause and then he said, ‘OK, no more kissing until I deposit you on your doorstep.’ Before she could resist, his arm had gone round her and he drew her into his side, holding her against him, pushing her head down on to his shoulder. ‘Relax,’ he said softly. ‘Shut your eyes and think of that doorstep.’

‘Nick—’

‘No more talking, not unless you want me to remember I’m not a gentleman.’

Relax he’d said, with every nerve she possessed twanging and her heart thumping fit to burst at his closeness.

It seemed a long, long time until the Mercedes purred to a halt outside the flat. Cory knew exactly how a jelly must feel.

‘Your doorstep awaits, Ma’am.’ The deep voice was smoky with amusement.

From some unexpected reserve of self-preservation, Cory managed to feign sleepiness as she raised her head from the pillow of his shoulder. ‘Are we here?’ she mumbled, pretending to yawn. ‘I must have been dozing.’

He didn’t challenge her on the lie, but there was a distinctly quizzical slant to his mouth as he exited the car and then helped her out.

The night air wasn’t cold—in fact there was a humid balminess to the shadowed street which suggested another hot June day in store—but Cory shivered as his big hand closed over her fingers. When she was standing on the pavement she tried to gently disentangle herself from his hold, but Nick was having none of it.

Instead he pulled her to the front door of the house. ‘Come on,’ he said coolly. ‘In we go.’

‘There’s no need for you to come up,’ she protested quickly. ‘Thank you for a lovely evening and—’

‘I’m seeing you to your front door.’ It was spoken in a tone which brooked no argument. ‘I’d never forgive myself if a mad axeman was lying in wait,’ he added with every appearance of seriousness.

She didn’t trust the solemnity any more than she trusted him. ‘I hardly think that’s likely.’

‘No? You want to look at the news and read the papers more often. Rape, pillage, mayhem and destruction are all part of the world we live in,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Do you want me to open the door?’

‘I’m quite capable, thank you.’ Having said that the keys had got themselves jammed in the lining of the purse somehow, and it took a few moments to yank them free under his amused gaze.

Once inside the hall, Cory whispered, ‘You’ll have to be very quiet. The people on this floor have a dog that hears the slightest thing and then barks enough to wake the dead.’

‘Wonderful,’ Nick murmured sarcastically.

‘It is, actually. It makes everyone feel very safe.’

‘Haven’t they heard of burglar alarms?’

A low growl from across the hall persuaded Cory to give up the argument. She slipped off her sandals preparatory to climbing the stairs and, as she straightened, he whispered, ‘You’ve just lost about five inches. What have you been walking on all night, stilts?’

She couldn’t help giggling. ‘You wait till you see my glass eye and wooden leg.’

‘I can’t wait.’

As they reached the first landing where her flat was all amusement left Cory however. Was he expecting to be asked in for a nightcap? Was he expecting to be asked in for something else? Or both? But she’d made it plain how she felt in the car—she hoped. But if he kissed her again…

‘Thank you for a lovely evening,’ she began.

‘You’ve already done that bit.’ He had to bend further to kiss her this time now she was minus the sandals, and it was still more satisfying than the most expensive chocolate. All the feelings he’d aroused in the car were there, and her arms were just beginning to snake up to his shoulders when she was free. ‘Goodnight, Cory,’ he said blandly.

Goodnight? She stared at him, totally taken aback, before she pulled herself together. ‘Goodnight,’ she said quickly. ‘And I meant what I said, by the way. It was a lovely evening.’

He smiled, his eyes glittering in the dim light on the landing. ‘I thought so.’ His hand reached out and stroked the silky skin at the side of her face below her ear.

Cory had never realised there were so many nerveendings in one place. Should she ask him in and blow the consequences? The force of the temptation was so strong it was enough to kill it. Besides, he had already turned and walked to the head of the stairs.

‘Sleep well,’ he said lazily.

He wasn’t going to ask to see her again. Well, she’d expected pretty much that, hadn’t she? And if he had, she’d determined she’d say no anyway.

‘Fancy lunch tomorrow?’

Her heart did an Olympic leap and then raced for gold. The moment of truth. Remember William. She didn’t want to remember William, she wanted to say yes. Which was why it had to be no. ‘Lunch?’ she repeated weakly.

‘You know, that meal in between breakfast and dinner?’

It was easier when he was being sarcastic. ‘I don’t think so, thank you.’

‘Why not?’ He rested his arms on the banister, his face full of sharply defined planes and angles in the shadows.

‘Because—’ She hesitated. Should she lie and say she had a prior engagement? But he’d only suggest another time. ‘Because I’m not dating at the moment.’

‘The work thing.’ He shook his head. ‘Not a good enough reason when your dog damn near broke my back.’

‘I’ve made recompense for that,’ she said indignantly. ‘And Rufus isn’t my dog anyway.’

‘You were in charge of him.’ He grinned. ‘Do you want to see my bruises?’

‘Not particularly.’ He was doing the charm bit again and it was lethal. Good job William had made her immune to such ploys.

‘There are women who’d die for the privilege.’

‘I don’t doubt it.’ She was determined not to smile.

‘I’ll be back at midday. There’s a great little pub I know where the roast beef melts in the mouth and the Yorkshire puddings are more than puffs of air.’

‘I’ve told you, I’m not dating,’ she said severely.

‘And I’ve told you, this isn’t a date but more paying off your debt. I don’t like to eat Sunday lunch alone.’ He straightened. ‘OK?’ he threw over his shoulder as he began to walk down the stairs.

Not OK. Definitely not OK, but it was like saying no to a brick wall. She followed him to the top of the stairs, looking down at his back as she hissed, ‘Nick, I’m not having Sunday lunch with you.’

‘Twelve sharp.’ He turned just long enough for her to see the flash of his white teeth in the darkness. ‘And I’m not backing off, Cory, so accept with good grace.’

‘Nick!’

He was in the hall now and his voice was low and reproachful when he murmured, ‘Quiet, remember the dog.’

She muttered something very rude about the dog just as the front door closed behind him.

In spite of the late hour, after Cory had showered and removed her make-up she found she was wide awake. The events of the evening were spinning through her head like a fast moving film and sleep was a million miles away. She tossed and turned for an hour or more before getting out of bed and padding through to the kitchen.

A mug of hot milk and half a packet of chocolate digestive biscuits later, she tried to get a handle on the way her life had been turned upside down in less than twenty-four hours.

The man was a human bulldozer, she told herself irritably. It would serve him right if she was out tomorrow when he called.

But she wouldn’t be.

She sighed. This was madness. Getting involved with a man like Nick Morgan, even briefly, was asking for trouble. Unbidden, thoughts of William intruded and for once she was too muddled and over-tired to stop them.

When she had met him she had left university six months earlier and had been training for her present job. She and her colleagues had treated themselves to a Christmas meal at an expensive restaurant and it had been there she’d bumped into him—quite literally. The heel of one of her shoes had suddenly snapped and she’d fallen against him.

She reached for another biscuit, needing the sweetness to combat the acidity of the memories.

She had known from the beginning that William was wrong for her, that he was the type of man who would never be happy settling down with just one woman. But he had pursued her, probably because she was a challenge. Normally women fell into his lap like ripe plums and it had been something of a novelty for him to be the hunter for once. She had known that, in her head, but in spite of that she had found herself falling for him. Some little grain of sense, of sanity—call it what you would—had prevailed, however, and in spite of all his efforts he hadn’t got her into his bed.

Then he had asked her to marry him.

The packet of biscuits had almost gone now. Feeling mad at herself for the self-indulgence, Cory stuffed the remainder back in the biscuit barrel and turned off the kitchen light, padding back to her bedroom and climbing into bed.

She had been over the moon at William’s proposal. It had meant he wanted her, really wanted her and not just as a sexual conquest. For the first time in her life she had felt loved, the hang-ups from her lonely childhood and teens fading into the distance.

He’d suggested a weekend in Paris to celebrate the engagement, declaring he knew the most perfect little jeweller’s shop there where she could choose her ring. She’d said yes—who wouldn’t? Of course she’d known that ‘celebrating’ would probably mean more than the limited love-making she’d allowed so far, but they were going to be married…

Why she had called unannounced at the advertising agency William owned the night before they were due to leave for Paris, she didn’t really know. She had been visiting a problem family in Soho, and rather than go straight home she’d decided to stroll the mile or so to the agency in Mayfair. With hindsight it had been the worst—and the best—thing she could have done.

Nearly everyone had left by the time she got there, but after assuring William’s secretary—whom she’d met at the door—that she’d surprise him, she had made her way to his office on the top floor of the building. And she’d surprised him all right, as well as the partially clothed blonde he had been writhing with on the couch.

The scene which had followed had been ugly. He’d accused her of being frigid, an emotional cripple and plenty more besides in an effort to justify himself. She had walked out and had never seen him again from that day to this. A very messy end to an affair which never should have started in the first place.

Cory sighed, turning over in bed and hammering at her pillow, which felt as if it was packed with rocks. She had to get some sleep; she’d look like a wet rag in the morning. She began the technique she’d perfected in the months after William’s betrayal, relaxing all her muscles, one by one, from the bottom of her feet to the top of her head.

Half an hour later she was as wide awake as ever, but this time it was Nick Morgan who was featuring on the screen in her mind.

She must have drifted off at some point after it became light, because when the alarm woke her at nine o’clock she was in the middle of a particularly erotic dream which made her blush to think about it.

How could she imagine such antics with a man she’d only met the day before? she asked herself in the shower. She could still feel the electricity racing through her veins which she’d experienced in the dream when Nick had touched and tasted her, and the heat in her body was nothing to do with the warm water cascading down on her. Crazy. She turned the dial to cold. It didn’t help much.