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It would ruin her.
She groaned silently and stared woodenly out the window for the whole of the short flight back to Motham. You had to give it to hover cabs, they moved fast.
When they landed on the quay, she jumped out as soon as the automatic doors swung open. Tor climbed out more slowly. She heard him thanking the pilot. “All settled up, I believe, by my PA?”
“All good, thank you sir,” the bald-headed eagle pilot replied.
Shona hauled in a shaky breath as she faced Tor. This was it—this was goodbye. She kept her gaze level with the splice of tattoo showing between the edges of his leather waistcoat. Gods, she wished he’d wear a shirt. “I think it’s best if I—find you another realtor.”
Silence.
“Tor?” She dared to glance up at him. His jade black eyes were stormy.
“No.”
She retracted her chin in surprise. “Erm, what do you mean, no? No, as in you don’t want another realtor, or no you’re not going ahead—or no?—”
“Hush,” he said, and to her surprise he took her by the arm and marched her over to a low wall nearby. “Sit down. Now, take a breath.”
How did he know she was hyperventilating? She found herself responding to his command and dutifully tried to slow her breathing.
Tor squatted down in front of her, his lips compressed. She remembered how that mouth had felt on hers, soft yet demanding. He knew how to use those lips, everywhere. On her nipples, on her pussy… Those tusks, ah, the feel of them nudging at her thighs. Oh no, now her breathing had gone haywire again. She hugged herself, feeling stupid and miserable in her crumpled dress and bare feet and her hair almost certainly looking like rats had nested in it.
“Listen,” his voice rumbled over her, warm and treacly. “Last night,” he cleared his throat, “was amazing. For me at least. Okay?” She watched as he spread those big hands, flexed them on his huge thighs, remembering their touch, and her pussy automatically clenched. “I think it may have been pretty okay for you too.”
Shona gulped, unable to even answer let alone raise her eyes to his. She heard him huff a sigh. “Look, let’s put it down to the weather, the moon, the magic of that place—whatever. It doesn’t change the fact I want you to work with me on this project. Okay?”
Could he just stop saying okay? None of what had happened was the least bit okay. But still, the fact he wanted to continue their business arrangement made her chest relax. That he was big enough to overlook what had happened between them, that was something.
“Shona.” His words cut through her worries. “Speak to me. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
She flung her arms out helplessly. “That this could be really awkward, professionally, from now on.”
“It won’t be. I will be busy with family matters or working from my hotel for the next week or so. And I have to fly back to Selig in among that. You can do the negotiations without even seeing me. Like I said yesterday, if Merle picked you, that means you’re the best in the business. If anyone can help me buy that island, it’s you.”
She nodded slowly. She didn’t want to lose this contract. And while part of her was relieved at how mature he was being, how sensible, another part bit back caustic disappointment. Truth was, she didn’t want to be having such a sterile conversation with Tor. She wanted… what did she want? To hurl herself against that big tattooed chest and beg him to do it all over again.
Don’t be ridiculous.
“I—I—” she stuttered, then tried again, blushing to the roots of her hair. “Please believe me, I don’t do this kind of thing with clients. It was completely out of character. I mean, work and play… I don’t?—”
To her amazement, he placed a warm finger to her lips. “Hush, Shona.”
Her eyes flew to his, and quickly he removed his hand. “We did what we did. It was—I personally have no regrets whatsoever. And now we will move on. Like the adults we are. And, I repeat, I still want Dove Realty to help me buy my island.”
She managed a wavery laugh. “Your island? Oh, Tor Arquin, you don’t stay down for long, do you?”
The double meaning hit her as the words left her mouth. She bit her lip. Luckily, he chose not to comment on it. “So, are we good?” He looked at her intensely.
No, they weren’t good. Their night together had sent her into a complete tail-spin, scared her, exhilarated her, like when she’d taken rides as a kid at the fair. Like the feeling she’d gotten with Matteus, before everything went horribly wrong.
She shivered inwardly.
Was Tor another Matteus? She sensed not. He was being far more together and mature about the whole episode than she was right now. Being totally reasonable. He was quite right. They just needed to put it behind them.
She levelled her gaze to his, making sure she didn’t drown in the depths of those deep mossy eyes. His brows ruffled, the tattoo on his forehead bunching. “Are we good, Shona?” he repeated softly.
She lifted her chin. “Yes. We’re good, Tor.”
