Playboy Boss, Pregnancy Of Passion Part 11

His smile broadened. 'I don't mind sharing, if you don't.'

She was hardly in a position to protest. Especially as the suite was enormous, and he'd changed their hotel for her sake. 'I'm sorry. This must've cost a small fortune.'

He shrugged. 'It's not a problem.'

'Look, I ought to pay my share of it.'

'No. I'm the one who dragooned you into coming to Scarborough. So it's my bill. No arguments.'

'Then thank you.' She grimaced. 'I'm sorry I made such a fuss-I could've coped with another night in that other hotel, you know.'

'No, you couldn't. And neither could I.' He smiled wryly. 'You saw the "before". This is what I saw the place being "after".'

'And it's fabulous-but it'd take so much time and effort to make it like this. You'd really have to do a proper cost benefit a.n.a.lysis.'

'And a building survey and get quotes for the work that needs doing. True. But there's also my gut instinct.'

'Which is?'

'Usually right,' he said.

She groaned. 'That's infuriating. You know what I meant.'

'Be nice to me, or you'll be eating fish and chips on the harbour instead of a posh dinner,' he teased.

'There's nothing wrong with fish and chips. Anyway, I don't have the right clothes with me to have dinner in the restaurant here.' Her beige linen trousers and cream top and black loafers could pa.s.s muster as smart casual, but this was more a little black dress and strappy shoes sort of place.

'Actually,' he said, 'there's more than one restaurant-there's the formal dining room, and a cafe bar for something less formal. Pasta, pizza and burgers. But I was thinking room service. Dinner on the balcony, overlooking the sea and watching the sun set.' He proffered a menu. 'I checked this out online before I booked. It's pretty good.'

She scanned it quickly. 'I think I'll have to close my eyes and pick at random. This is just... Wow. I like everything on it. And it's all local produce. Organic, too.' She looked up at him. 'So this is the sort of thing you're planning to do?'

He nodded. 'Probably not on as big a scale as this. I like the idea of having a boutique hotel, maybe fifteen or twenty rooms. Small and exclusive.'

'Expanding to a chain.'

'Yup.'

And he'd do it, she knew. He'd find the right sort of place to change-somewhere a little less run-down than the hotel where they'd stayed the previous night, but a place that could still be transformed from something run-of-the-mill into something spectacular.

In the end, she chose the oven-baked breaded Brie with cranberry relish, followed by local cod served with a basil and parmesan risotto.

He raised an eyebrow at her choice. 'So you're a foodie, then.'

'Definitely. I'd rather enjoy my food than sit nibbling on a lettuce leaf, knowing that I'm fashionably stick-thin but being utterly miserable because I also know just how much I'm missing out on.'

Then she remembered some of the names she'd seen him linked with. Stick-thin model types, the lot of them. 'Sorry. I wasn't commenting on your...um...taste in female company.'

He laughed. 'I know. But I also know what you mean. It's easier to enjoy a meal with someone who's interested in what they're eating rather than someone who orders a starter for their main course and refuses pudding and you know they're counting calories and carbs the whole time.' He'd chosen grilled tiger prawns with lemon, followed by a plain steak, salad and new potatoes.

'Going for the manly option?' she teased.

'No. I just like my food simple and good quality.'

'How about pudding?' Although he'd skipped pudding at the pizza place, Sara knew he had a weakness for posh chocolate biscuits. The chances were, he'd also enjoy chocolate pudding.

'I'm not that bothered, but choose what you like.'

'The one I'd like is a sharing pudding-the fruit platter with white chocolate dip. But it's a bit too much for one.'

'Fine. I'll share it with you. Now, wine-you're having fish, so we'll go for white. Chablis OK with you?'

'Lovely-but you're having steak.'

'Which can cope perfectly well with good white wine. It doesn't have to be red,' he said. 'I suppose we could have champagne, but personally I think it's overrated. I'd rather have a decent Chablis-a Margaux or a Nuit St Georges.'

She smiled at him. 'And there's you teasing me about being posh.'

'You're saying a barrow boy can't enjoy wine?' he fenced.

She laughed. 'I'm not a wine sn.o.b-Justin is, but I guess that goes with the territory of being a barrister. I just know what I like.'

'Which is?'

'Pretty much the same as you, actually.' Though her budget didn't usually run to drinking it in restaurants.

'If we eat at seven,' Luke said, 'we can watch the sun set. So I'll order from room service; then we can unpack and maybe have a cup of coffee on the balcony.'

It didn't take long to unpack. And sitting on the balcony, watching the sea swishing in and out, was incredibly relaxing. The perfect weekend break. And even Luke had lost that slightly watchful look she was used to. He'd rolled the sleeves of his shirt up slightly, exposing a sprinkling of dark hair on his arms, and he looked utterly edible.

Down, girl, she told her libido silently. Luke, despite his teasing in the boat, might not appreciate being pounced on. And he certainly hadn't made a move towards her; when her fingers had brushed against his earlier as she'd handed him a cup of coffee, there hadn't been even the tiniest flicker of awareness on his face. No spark, like the one that had coursed through her.

Or maybe he was just better than she was at masking his feelings.

She had no idea what was going on between them right now. Whether they were colleagues or lovers. Not friends, certainly: on the boat, she'd noticed his barriers going up. When she'd touched his hand, he hadn't relaxed and laced his fingers through hers. In fact, he'd looked distinctly uncomfortable.

Probably because, as he'd admitted, he didn't like children-and their trip had definitely been family-oriented. Someone, she thought, must have hurt him very badly. There hadn't been a mention of a wife and children in his past, but she knew better than to ask straight out. Though a messy divorce would explain why he was so against relationships, why he didn't believe in love.

Right at that moment, he was calm. Reposed. And she wasn't going to risk ruining the moment by asking him where she stood or pushing him to talk about his past.

A knock at the door heralded room service-a waitress who swiftly laid the table on the balcony with a damask tablecloth, shiny cutlery and sparkling gla.s.ses, followed by a waiter who brought the wine and their starters.

The food turned out to be as good as the service. 'This,' she said after the first mouthful of her Brie, 'is perfect. Try it.'

He gave her an amused look, but allowed her to feed him with a forkful. 'Agreed, it's good,' he said. 'Try this.'

There was something decidedly sensual about opening her lips and allowing him to slide a tiger prawn into her mouth, and her heart skipped a beat at the look in his eyes. 'It's good,' she said. And she didn't just mean the food.

The idea of sharing a platter of fruit and melted chocolate with him made pleasure slide all the way down her spine. Would he keep things strictly professional with her-or would he feed her morsels of fruit? Would it start out as pudding and end up as something else?

Their main courses were just as spectacular, and then the waitress brought the fruit platter. There was a pot of melted chocolate over a tea-light candle to keep it warm, and as well as the pineapple and strawberries and papaya there were bite-size squares of home-made Yorkshire parkin and tiny shortbread rounds.

Sara speared a square of the ginger cake and dipped it in the chocolate. She was just about to draw it up to her mouth when Luke leaned forward and nibbled it off her skewer.

'Hey! That was mine,' she protested.

He raised an eyebrow. 'It's a sharing platter. I think,' he said, 'this is how it's meant to work.' And then he dipped a square of parkin into the chocolate and lifted it to her mouth. 'Open wide,' he said, his voice slightly husky.

This was a game she liked. And she could tell by the way his pupils were expanding that he enjoyed it, too. The setting sun was forgotten; all she could concentrate on was Luke.

'There's chocolate on the corner of your mouth,' he said when they'd finished, then leaned over and licked it off.

She wasn't sure which of them moved first, but the next thing she knew she was sitting on his lap, his mouth was jammed against hers and her hands were in his hair.

'I think,' he murmured when he broke the kiss, 'we'd better go back inside. Or anyone looking up is going to get an eyeful of something they shouldn't.'

Oh, help. She'd been so involved in his kisses that she'd actually forgotten where they were.

'Just as well I said we'd leave the stuff outside our door when we've finished.' He stole another kiss. 'Because I really do not want to be disturbed for the rest of this evening.' He lifted her as he stood up, then strode with her into the bedroom and laid her back against the pillows. 'Wait for me. Two minutes,' he said, brushing his mouth against hers.

She heard the clatter of china and cutlery-clearly he was dealing with the remains of their meal-and a door closing, and then he was back in the bedroom. Closing the heavy curtains. Switching on the bedside light.

'Sara,' he said.

She stood up and walked into his arms. Matched him kiss for kiss, touch for touch.

'I need this, too,' she whispered.

'I'm all yours,' he said.

So she'd tamed the pirate king, had she? Somehow, she thought not. But she took pleasure in unb.u.t.toning his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders, exploring his muscular chest and broad shoulders. Unwrapping a parcel was half the fun, and she was going to enjoy every single moment of taking Luke's clothes off. Looking and touching and tasting.

'A proper six-pack,' she said, letting her fingers drift down over his abdomen. 'So this is what kick-boxing does for you, is it?'

'And the training for it.'

'Good,' she said, and unb.u.t.toned his trousers. Slid the zip down incredibly slowly, keeping her gaze fixed on his-and she revelled in the fact that his breath hissed as her fingers moved lower. His earlier coolness had been a sham. Luke Holloway was definitely interested.

'Lose the shoes,' she said.

'Bossing me about again, are you?' But he kicked them off.

She smiled. 'And now...'

But as she was about to push the material of his trousers over his hips, his hands grasped her wrists. Firmly enough to stop her, yet gently enough not to hurt.

'My turn,' he said. 'Arms up.'

She let him tug the hem of her strappy top and pull it over her head.

Then he undid the b.u.t.ton and zip of her trousers. She'd already kicked her shoes off much earlier, so when the linen fell to the floor she simply stepped out of them.

'Now there's a picture,' he said. 'I knew you'd be the type to wear matching underwear.'

'Did you, now?'

'Those teal suede stilettos you were wearing yesterday...I could imagine you wearing just them and your underwear-matching teal silk and lace-and that string of black pearls.'

'You've been fantasising about me in my underwear?' The idea sent a kick of desire through her.

'Yes. And a bit worse than that,' he admitted with a mischievous grin. 'Like taking it off.'

'Show me,' she invited, and colour slashed across his cheekbones.

Firstly, he loosened her hair so it fell about her shoulders. Then he slid the narrow straps of her bra down her arms. 'You have beautiful shoulders,' he whispered, nuzzling kisses along them. 'And your skin's so soft. It makes me want to taste you.' He nibbled gently at the curve of her neck, making her shiver and tip her head back.

'And it makes me want to do this.' He dipped a finger under the lacy hem and traced the edge of her bra; every nerve-end seemed to come to life under his touch. Then he unclipped her bra slowly, with one hand; as it dropped to the floor, he let her b.r.e.a.s.t.s spill into his hands. 'You're stunning, Sara.'

Given the kind of women he dated-women who were a little taller and a lot thinner-she wasn't convinced-but then he bent his head and kissed her shoulders again, tracing kisses along her collarbone and then nuzzling down between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. When he dropped to his knees in front of her and took one nipple into his mouth, her knees buckled and she had to hold on to his shoulders for support.

'Hold that thought,' he said, and hooked his thumbs into the sides of her knickers. Slowly, teasingly slowly, he drew them down to her ankles, then lifted her foot to help her step out of them. Then he rocked back on his haunches and looked up at her. 'Sara Fleet, you blow my mind.'

It was pretty much mutual. Not that she wanted to tell him yet. She held her hands out; when he took them, she tugged him to his feet. 'My turn.'

And then she copied his actions, dropping to her knees in front of him. She finished unzipping his chinos and stroked the material down over his hips; when they slid to the floor, she helped him step out of them and removed his socks at the same time.

She could see his erection outlined by the soft material of his jersey boxer shorts; giving him a wicked grin, she breathed teasingly along it, so he'd feel the heat of her mouth, and she was rewarded with a husky groan of pleasure.

She stroked his thighs, firm and muscular. 'You're beautiful, Luke Holloway. If I was any good at art I'd love to paint you. Sculpt you.'

'Sounds like an excuse to look at me naked.' His words were teasing but his voice was slightly shaky. Her touch obviously affected him more than he was prepared to admit.

'Now there's an idea,' she teased back. 'And, considering that you took my clothes off...' She removed his soft jersey boxer shorts.

'Enough,' he said, reaching down to take her hands and pulling her to her feet. 'Much more teasing and I'm going to lose control.'

'Which would be a bad thing?'

'Considering that I want to make sure it's good for you-yes,' he told her baldly.

He lowered his mouth to hers, then picked her up and, still kissing her, carried her to the bed and set her back against the soft, soft pillows. He opened a drawer in the cabinet next to the bed to retrieve his wallet and remove a condom from it. She closed her hand over his. 'Mine,' she said softly.

He gave her a smouldering glance and the s.e.xiest grin she'd ever seen.

He lay back against the pillows and she opened the foil packet; she rolled the condom onto his erect p.e.n.i.s, teasingly slowly, looking him straight in the eye as she did so.

'Hear that shredding sound?' he asked.

'No.'