Playboy Boss, Pregnancy Of Passion Part 16

'Wait a second.' He went over to the table and blew out the candle. 'How about now?'

That little extra bit of darkness inside made the outside seem even brighter. 'Just stunning,' she said. She could understand exactly why he'd chosen to live here.

'It's even better late at night,' he said. 'The Thames is like polished ebony reflecting it all back.'

'Like a Whistler painting.'

He smiled. 'Trust you to know the art.'

'Don't be chippy.'

'I'm not. I don't know a huge amount about art, though I'm not that keen on abstract stuff. I like a painting to look like what it is.' He settled next to her, sharing the chocolates.

For a second, Sara could imagine every evening being like this. Living with Luke, sharing his s.p.a.ce-cooking with him, laughing with him, making love with him.

Then she shook herself. She wasn't supposed to be letting herself fall for him. This was supposed to be getting the attraction out of their mutual systems.

Luke took her hand. 'So you like my living room. Want to come and see what I go to sleep to?'

Which didn't necessarily mean he was planning to make love with her, Sara reminded herself; he might be just offering her a guided tour of the rest of the flat. 'Sure,' she said, hoping that her voice didn't sound quite as breathless as it felt.

He led her downstairs. Although he didn't switch on the light in his bedroom, the glow from outside was enough to show her the contents: a huge, huge platform bed with plenty of pillows, a bedside table with a lamp and lots of s.p.a.ce. As with the living room, one wall of the room was floor-to-ceiling gla.s.s; the bed was positioned to face the gla.s.s and, instead of curtains, he had narrow black Venetian blinds. Again, there were no pictures on the rest of the walls, and all the furnishings seemed to be in shades of grey and white.

Then she realised that the Mozart was still playing-and she could still hear it. 'How do you do that?'

'It's probably what you'd term boys and their toys.' He gave her a wry smile. 'It's a sound system that follows you round the flat.'

'If you'd told me about it before I heard it for myself, I would've said you'd been reading too many sci-fi novels.' She shook her head in wonder. 'I had no idea that kind of technology even existed.'

'It's based on wireless networks,' he explained.

'It's impressive.' And she'd just bet it was hideously expensive. Especially given how good the quality of the sound was.

He inclined his head. 'Thank you.'

She wandered over to the window and looked out. 'This is astonishing.'

'I like it. And with all the gla.s.s...it makes me feel free.'

'You're claustrophobic?' she guessed.

'I couldn't have worked in the market if I was, with all the stalls right up together and everything piled high-no, I just like my s.p.a.ce.'

Was that a warning, a reminder that he wasn't going to let her any closer? But, then again, he'd invited her here, shown her round the place.

She stood with her hands on the rail of the window, looking out and drinking in the view. Luke stood behind her and slid his arms round her waist. He brushed his mouth against the nape of her neck. 'I really can't work out whether I like your hair up or down best. Up means I get access like this...' He drew a trail of nibbling kisses along the sensitive curve at the side of her neck. 'And down makes you look much more touchable, less remote.'

'You think I'm remote?'

'When you're all elegant and sophisticated... Yes. And I'm glad today you wore a dress rather than a suit.'

'Why?'

'Because-' his fingers found the tab of her zip and lowered it '-it makes things easy for me.'

He was planning to undress her in front of a window? 'Luke, we can't-people might see!'

'Stop worrying,' he said. 'Apart from the fact we're on next to the top floor, there's no light on inside-the light's coming in from outside, so we can see out but people can't see in.'

'But, Luke...'

'It's fine,' he rea.s.sured her. 'Live a little.'

He kissed all the way down her spine until she was shivering, then he eased the material of her dress over her shoulders, drawing it slowly down to her waist and letting it fall to the floor.

She turned to face him. 'Luke.'

'I want to touch you, Sara.'

'And I want to touch you.' She unb.u.t.toned his shirt. She could see his face clearly in the light spilling in through the window; his eyes were really dark, there was a slight hint of stubble on his jaw and, with that white shirt undone, he looked as s.e.xy as h.e.l.l.

He sucked in a breath. 'Do you have any idea how s.e.xy you look right now? In lacy knickers, high heels and pearls, with your hair up?'

'This was what I bought yesterday. Well, except the shoes and necklace.' The pearls were palest lavender, matched to her underwear. 'You like them?'

'More than like.' He picked her up, carried her to his bed and settled her against the pillows while he ripped the rest of his clothes off.

The mattress was firm and the pillows were the kind you could sink into but which also gave support. His sheets were purest cotton with a really high thread count, so soft against her skin, and they were perfectly smooth, not even creased from being folded.

'What are you thinking?' he asked softly.

'Scarborough. The sheets weren't creased there, either.' Not until they'd spent the night in them.

'You can crease my sheets any time you like,' he teased. Then his face went serious and he kissed her, demanding a response from her mouth while he finished removing her clothes. He paused to protect her with a condom, then eased into her body. And it felt to Sara as if she was really connecting with him-more than just bodily. He lost himself in her, just as she lost herself in him.

Afterwards, he took off her pearls and placed them on his bedside table before taking her through to his en-suite bathroom. His shower was definitely big enough for two, and he paid attention to every centimetre of her skin, lathering it and then rinsing off the suds. The towels were thick and fluffy, and he dried her very tenderly, really cosseting her.

And then amus.e.m.e.nt lit his eyes.

'What?' she asked.

'You're the only woman I've ever met who matches her toenail polish to her underwear.'

'Details are important,' she said. 'Actually, if my shoes aren't black, I normally match it to my shoes.'

'So you have dozens of bottles of nail polish as well as dozens of pairs of shoes?'

'Could be worse. I only have three handbags,' she teased back.

'We'd better get dressed,' he said. 'I'll drive you home.'

So he wasn't going to ask her to stay. Well, she hadn't expected it. Besides, she didn't have clean clothes and a toothbrush with her, so it was just as well. The fact that Luke had shared as much of himself with her as he had tonight was a huge step forward.

Luke came up to the flat with her. Justin was out for the evening and had left her a note but, to her disappointment, Luke didn't stay.

It must've shown on her face because he said softly, 'If I come in for coffee, you know as well as I do that it won't stop there. And I don't want to embarra.s.s you in front of your brother.'

'Uh-huh.' She tried her best to sound cool and casual and perfectly OK with it all.

And then he kissed her goodnight; it was so sweet and tender and full of promise that it made her want to cry.

'See you tomorrow,' he said.

'Tomorrow.'

One day at a time, they'd agreed. If she pushed him too far, too fast, it would all blow up in her face. She just needed to be patient.

And then it hit her.

She'd fallen in love with Luke Holloway. A workaholic who didn't believe in marriage, who didn't want children and who, despite the fact that he'd been fine with her brother, would no doubt take the long way round to avoid anything resembling a family gathering. A man who didn't believe in happy-ever-afters.

The worst possible man she could fall for.

What made it even worse was that she knew he was definitely the one. Her feelings for Hugh paled into insignificance against what she felt for this man. This went bone deep.

She knew that Luke was going to need patience and time to trust her, to talk to her about whatever was in his head; he was a man who was totally self-contained. But would he ever really open up to her?

All the way back to Docklands, Luke thought about it. New territory. He'd always been careful to avoid his previous girlfriends' families. The fact that he'd met Sara's brother-and liked him-meant that he was getting in too deep for comfort.

He couldn't pull back. Not now. Yet the idea of going forward made him nervous. Crazy. He'd done deals for enormous amounts of money. Taken plenty of risks-calculated, but still risks. Yet he'd never felt upside down and in a whirl, the way he did whenever he thought about Sara.

If this was love, he wasn't sure he could cope with it. He wanted his nice, orderly, busy life back.

Though, at the same time, he couldn't imagine life without Sara around. He no longer wanted the shallow, glittering parties that had been his social life. No longer wanted a string of gorgeous women who expected no commitments, just lavish gifts and lots of fun.

What he wanted was something much simpler.

And much more complex.

He wanted Sara.

But if he took the risk-what then? Would he end up hurting them both? Would he end up losing her?

Because if he let her into his heart, took the risk and let her draw him into her family, he wasn't sure that he'd survive losing all that a second time.

There had to be a way forward. But, right at that moment, he couldn't see it.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

OVER the next couple of weeks, Sara and Luke saw more of each other outside work, and she found herself beginning to hope that things might just work out for them. Luke delighted her one Sat.u.r.day with a trip to a couple of ruined abbeys in Kent, saying, 'Seeing as I've taken up the time you were going to spend wandering round temples in Greece and Italy, this is the least I can do.' A day spent walking hand in hand, with lunch at a little country pub, quiet and intimate and close. Just perfect.

She, in turn, surprised him with tickets for a rock concert; although it wasn't really her thing, she could see how much he enjoyed it and that made it all worthwhile.

And, although Luke still hadn't found a temp, Sara didn't mind that much; she was enjoying working with him and liked the way he asked her opinions of things and stretched her skills by teaching her to read balance sheets and underlying trends. Even better was when he asked her to go with him to scope out potential hotels.

'Can you come with me to look at a place?' he asked.

'Oh, you mean that place you found in Cromer?' She remembered him talking about it: a seaside resort in Norfolk with a Victorian heyday. It was too late in the year to see the poppies the area had once been famed for, but it still held the potential of a paddle in the sea and a walk on the beach in the early evening, just before the light faded. 'Sure.'

'It's another weekend, I'm afraid-is that OK?'

She nodded. 'When?'

'Friday morning. I'll need you to meet me here at eight.'

Norfolk was only a couple of hours' drive away. Maybe, she thought, this wasn't the hotel he'd been talking about; maybe this was a new opportunity and he wanted to get the earliest look possible. 'I'll check my diary,' she said, wanting to make the point that she did have a life outside work and wasn't going to drop everything for him. 'Yes, you're OK. Though, had it been next weekend, I would've had to say no.' Not that it was worth asking Luke to come with her to her niece's birthday party. If he was reluctant to meet her oldest brother, no way would he agree to come to Kent for a Sunday afternoon and meet her entire family.

'Good. You'll need casual clothes. Flat shoes with a decent grip are a good idea.'

She frowned. 'I thought Norfolk was flat?'

'Obviously it's not mountainous like the Lake District but, apart from the fens and bits around Yarmouth, it's not that flat.'

'Flat shoes.' She surveyed the lipstick-red stilettos she was wearing. Definitely not suitable.

He laughed. 'Sounds like it's a chance for you to go shoe shopping. Oh, and your pa.s.sport.'

'Pa.s.sport? Why do I need that?'

'Because I need a photocopy of it-and your driving licence-for the insurance company. You know, to insure my car for you to drive.'

'Since when do they ask for a pa.s.sport?'

He shrugged. 'Maybe they want extra proof of ident.i.ty.'

Maybe companies were tightening up security.

'Oh, and don't bother with breakfast. We'll stop on the way.'

But on Friday morning he didn't drive her to Norfolk. Instead, they took the Docklands Light Railway to London City Airport.

'Luke? Where are we...?'