‘Then let’s go back to the living room.’
She swung on her heel and did some fast power-walking out of the bedroom wing which was far too sensitive a place to be with a man who oozed sexual invitation.
‘So, the second night you spent out here on…’ Her gaze swung around and fastened on the only piece of furniture that remotely resembled a chaise longue. ‘Do you mean that spiky blue thing?’
It looked like more of an instrument of torture than a place to sleep. A round stainless steel base with a central cylinder supported a curved lounger shape covered with dozens of protruding blue cones which certainly looked too sharp to lie on comfortably.
Nic grinned. ‘It’s a fantastic design. The cones are made of a specially developed flexible rubber foam. They wrap around your body and let you submerge into them. And they’re temperature sensitive, reacting to your body heat, sinking down to cushion and support anyone’s individual shape.’
Serena shook her head in amazement.
‘Try it for yourself,’ Nic urged, waving her forward as he moved forward himself.
Curiosity drew her to the savage looking piece of furniture. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ she remarked, still with a sense of disbelief in its comfort.
‘It’s a prototype. Not on the market yet. It’s currently being displayed in international furniture shows,’ Nic explained. ‘Ward, Angelina’s husband, likes to showcase the latest designs. He supplies to interior decorators.’
She hadn’t known what business the Giffords were in but this information certainly made sense of their space age decor. ‘Well, I guess you could say the chaise longue is spectacular, but I am reminded of a porcupine.’
‘Don’t be put off. Sit on the concave section, then swivel onto the back rest as you swing your legs up.’
The construction was so extraordinary Serena couldn’t resist testing it, though once she was fully stretched out on the cones, the experience was so incredibly sensual, it made her terribly aware of her body, especially with Nic Moretti standing over her, smiling as he watched the chaise longue adjust to her shape and length.
His gaze travelled down her legs and back again, lingering at the apex of her thighs, almost making her squirm. He made another pause at the precarious button…willing it to pop? Serena felt her nipples tightening, pushing at the flimsy fabric of her bra. Her body heat was accelerating so fast, it would probably melt the seductive cones if she didn’t get off.
She jackknifed back to a sitting position, swinging her feet firmly onto the floor again. ‘Okay…’ He was standing too close. Her eyes stabbed at his, demanding he give her more room as she determinedly switched her mind to business. ‘Where was Cleo while you slept here?’
A tantalising little smile played on his lips as he backed off and gestured to a small dog’s trampoline bed, set between two weirdly curved chairs facing a huge television screen. Obviously this was Cleo’s place when the Giffords watched their favourite programs.
‘She’s in the habit of sleeping there when it suits her,’ Nic said wryly. ‘Apparently it doesn’t suit her at night unless I’m out here with her. I was hoping when Justine arrived on Saturday…but no.’ He heaved a much put upon sigh. ‘Once again I ended up on the chaise longue because Cleo was driving us mad.’
Justine would have loved that—distracted from sexual pleasure, then deserted for a dog. No doubt there’d been premeditated murder in her heart when she’d put the little terrier on the slippery dip for a fast slide into deep water. Serena smiled at Cleo, silently congratulating the dog for frustrating Justine and being the survivor. Its tail wagged in conspiratorial satisfaction. Serena decided she could become very fond of Cleo, clearly a cunning intelligence at work in that little brain.
‘I had a party of friends here yesterday,’ Nic went on. ‘By the time they left, I fell into bed and…’ He grimaced. ‘Well, you know how Justine dealt with last night.’
Serena looked him straight in the eye. ‘Not a kind solution.’
‘No,’ he agreed, then pointedly added, ‘My relationship with Justine came to an abrupt end this morning.’
Exit the witch-woman…enter the dog-handler?
His eyes held a gleam that told Serena he definitely fancied her as a replacement. It was a highly purposeful and suggestive gleam, reinforcing all the suggestive stuff he’d thrown at her outside his bedroom door.
While her mind furiously resented his assumption that she would share this desire, her body had a will of its own, seriously responding with little charges of electric excitement running riot everywhere. The heat coursing through her completely dried up her mouth and throat. It rose to her brain, as well, and wiped out any sensible thought processes. The only words forming there were, I want you, too.
Which, of course, was mad, reckless, shocking and inadmissable. The silence stretched into a seething mass of unspeakable words…
Why shouldn’t I experience him?
He’s free.
He’s gorgeous, sexy, and I’ve never felt this physically attracted to anyone in my whole life.
The voice of caution finally kicked in…
It won’t lead anywhere,
Remember his snobby attitudes.
He just wants to use you while he’s stuck here.
You’ll get involved and end up hurt.
Her body started screaming a positively wanton protest…
Don’t think pain. Think pleasure.
This could be the best you’ll ever have!
Fortunately Nic broke the wild torrent inside her by speaking himself. ‘I was going to offer you a drink when you arrived.’ He smiled in self-reproach. ‘Got sidetracked. Will you have one with me now?’
‘Yes,’ she croaked. Her mouth was a desert.
He led off to the kitchen. She followed slowly on legs that had gone slightly wobbly on her. By the time she reached the kitchen he had wineglasses set on a bench and was pouring from a chilled bottle of Chardonnay that he’d obviously opened and re-corked earlier. A premeditated tactic for seduction?
Serena told herself she should protest. She was driving and this was supposed to be a professional consultation. No alcohol. But her gravel throat needed an instant injection of liquid so when he handed her a glass, she took it and sipped, silently vowing not to drink much.
‘Thank you.’ Even with the soothing moisture of the wine her voice was still husky. She drank some more.