He smiled and her facial muscles instinctively responded.
His arm brushed hers and her skin tingled with excitement.
He spoke and her heart played hopscotch to the tune of his voice.
If his gaze met hers for more than a few seconds, her body temperature heated up.
All of which brought Serena to the conclusion that she was hopelessly in lust with the man—a totally physical thing that she couldn’t squash, shake off, or block. And maybe—just maybe—she should let nature take its course, especially since she’d never been affected like this before. There was something to be said for experiencing the highs in life, even if they were followed by lows.
This mental seesaw came to an abrupt crisis point when Nic casually asked, ‘Doing anything in particular after the gymkhana?’
‘No,’ slid off her tongue, completely wiping out any ready excuses for rejecting the imminent invitation.
‘I’ve got some great T-bone steaks and a good bottle of red. How are you at throwing a salad together? We could do a barbecue out by the pool, have a swim…’
‘Sounds good,’ she heard herself say, a sense of sheer recklessness buzzing through her mind. ‘I have a deft hand with lettuce leaves.’
He laughed and there was no mistaking the triumphant satisfaction dancing in his eyes.
Cornered!
But not bedded yet.
Let him make one snobbish remark—just one— Serena silently and fiercely resolved, and lust would go on ice so fast, his head would spin.
His mouth twitched into a quizzical little smile. ‘Why do I get the feeling I’ve just been put on trial?’
‘Probably because I have the feeling you take too much for granted,’ she retorted, raising a challenging eyebrow.
‘With you, that would definitely be a mistake,’ he declared, but there was wicked mischief in his eyes. ‘Should I make the salad?’
She laughed at the ridiculously trivial point. ‘No. I’ll bring it with me.’
He frowned. ‘I have the makings at home. We could just take off from here…’
‘It’s been a long day. I need to clean up first. I’ll drive to your place with my contribution.’ And with my car on hand for an easy getaway when I choose to leave.
‘An independent lady,’ he drawled.
‘I like to be on top of the game.’
His eyes glittered with the promise of competition for that spot even as he answered, ‘I’m happy to go along with teamwork. So when will I see you? Five-thirty?’
‘Six. Gives me time to be creative with the salad.’ And stops him from thinking she was only too eager to get there.
‘I shall look forward to a gourmet’s delight.’
A sexual feast, he meant. Every nerve end in Serena’s body was twitching with the same anticipation, but no way was she going to admit it. Or go for it unless she felt it was right.
‘Well, I hope I don’t disappoint you,’ she said, taking secret satisfaction in the double entendre. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll head off now. Have to let Michelle know what I’m doing.’
‘Fine! I’ll gather up my rug and dog and see you later.’
Nic smiled to himself as he watched her stroll away from him. Mission achieved. He glanced at his watch. Just on four o’clock. In fishermen’s terms, he’d been playing out the line for three hours and he now had the result he wanted. More or less. Serena Fleming was a very slippery fish. He had her in his net but she wasn’t leaping into his frying pan.
And she was providing herself with an escape vehicle by bringing her own car.
Nic reasoned he’d have to be fast tonight.
Very fast.
Knock her right off the top of her game before she could mount defences and retreat.
Funny…he couldn’t remember relishing a date as much as he relished this one. The trick was to bring it to the end he wanted, with Serena wanting the same end, admitting it, accepting it, and wild to have it.
Wild…
Weighing up his memory of the kiss they’d shared had eventually brought Nic to the decision that civilised didn’t hold a candle to wild.
CHAPTER NINE
SHE’D clicked off.
What had he said wrong?
Done wrong?
From the moment she had arrived until just a few minutes ago, Nic knew he’d carried Serena with him. The connection had been exhilarating—eye contact, mind contact, everything but body contact. Was it because the meal was now over that she was withdrawing into herself, shutting him out, getting herself geared up to evade what had been simmering between them before it came to the boil?
She’d undoubtedly felt safe with a table separating them, safe out here on the patio eating al fresco. Nothing too intimate about the open air. And she’d kept the conversation away from herself, peppering him with questions about his career, his recent contracts, what he felt were his greatest architectural achievements, favourite designs. Her interest had seemed genuine, yet her attention had started slipping when he’d described the town house complex he’d done for Lyall Duncan.
Her gaze had dropped to the glass of wine by her emptied dinner plate. She had the stem of it between her fingers and thumb, turning it in slow circuits. Her face was completely still, expressionless, as though the slight swirl of the claret had her mesmerised. There was no awareness that he’d fallen silent.
He’d lost her.
The need to snatch her back from wherever she’d gone in her mind was paramount. He’d been a fool to keep talking about himself, despite her encouragement. Such a one-way track could too easily become boring. He leaned forward, a tense urgency pumping through him.
‘Serena…?’
Her lashes flew up, vivid blue eyes jolted into refocusing on him. But the distance was still there. He instantly felt it—an invisible barrier that was very real nonetheless. He tried a smile, adding a quick whimsical question to grab her attention.
‘Where are you?’
Her responding smile was slow, a touch wry. ‘I was thinking of all the connections you must have made. Friends in high places. Big property investors like Lyall Duncan…’
‘Lyall is more a business associate than a friend,’ he cut in, wondering if she couldn’t see herself fitting into his world. Which was absurd. She was clever enough to fit anywhere. If she wanted to. That, he suspected was the big thing with Serena, choosing what she wanted.
Her eyebrows lifted quizzically. ‘You don’t mix socially?’
He shrugged, sensing this was a loaded question but not grasping the logic behind it. ‘Business lunches. The huge party he threw to officially launch the town house complex. Lyall tends to big-note everything he does. He enjoyed parading me as his architect that night. We’re not really connected beyond the professional level.’