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She made herself lift her own glass and meet his eyes. It was like drowning in dark velvet. She felt her blood quicken, her breath catch. A sense of unreality overwhelmed her—and yet this was real...vividly, pulsingly real. She was sitting here, so close to the man who could set her senses on fire with a single glance.
Oh, this was ridiculous. To be so...so overcome by this man. She had to claw back her composure. If she were going to take refuge in being Sabine then she must be as poised and cool as that protection provided. With an inner breath she set down her glass and then let her glance sweep out across the glittering vista far below.
‘If the food is as exceptional as the location, I can understand why this place has such a reputation,’ she murmured. It seemed a safe thing to say—and safe things were what she was clutching at.
‘I hope both please you,’ he replied.
His lashes dipped over his eyes. It was clear to him that she did not wish to talk about herself, but her very evasiveness told him what he wanted to know—that she was, indeed, a woman who presented to the world what she chose to present. For himself, he did not care. Sabine Sablon would not, after all, be staying long in his life.
‘Does this have a Michelin star yet?’ Sarah asked, bringing her gaze back to him. Another safe thing to ask.
‘One. But a second is being targeted,’ he answered.
‘What makes the difference, I wonder?’ Sarah asked. Safe again...
He lifted his wine glass. Talking about Michelin stars was perfectly acceptable as a topic. It lasted them until their food arrived, and then they moved on to the subject of the Côte d’Azur itself—how it had changed and developed, what its charms and attractions were.
It was Bastiaan who talked most, and he soon became aware that Sabine was adept at asking questions of him, keeping the conversation flowing.
And all the time, like a deep, powerful current in a river on whose surface
aimless ripples were circling, another conversation was taking place. One that was wordless, silent, yet gaining strength with every politely interested smile, every nod, every lift of a fork, of a glass, every glance, every low laugh, every gesture of the hand, every shift in body position...every breath taken.
It was a conversation that could lead to only one end...take them to only one destination.
The place he had determined she should go. The place she could no longer resist him taking her to.
* * *
Sarah climbed back into the car and Bastiaan lowered his tall frame into the driving seat beside her. Immediately the space confining them shrank. Her mind was in a daze. Wine hummed in her veins—softening her body so that it seemed to mould to the contours of the leather seat. She heard the throaty growl of the engine and the powerful car moved forward, pressing her further into her seat. She could feel the low throb of her beating heart, the flush of heat in her skin.
But it was in Sabine’s breast that her heart was beating. It was Sabine whose senses were dominated by the presence of this magnetic, compelling man beside her. Sabine who was free to do what she was doing now—ignoring everything in the world except this man, this night...
Sabine, alluring, sensual and sophisticated, could yield to the overpowering temptation that was Bastiaan Karavalas and all that he promised. Sabine had led her to this place, this time, this moment—a moment that Sabine would wish to come...would choose to be in...
This is going to happen. It is going to happen and I am not going to stop it. I want it to happen.
She did. It might be rash, it might be foolish, it might be the thing she had least expected would happen during this summer, but she was going to go with Bastiaan Karavalas.
This night.
And as for tomorrow...
She would deal with that then. Not now.
Now there was only her, and him, and being taken to where he was taking her. Wordless. Voiceless. Irreversible.
He took her to his apartment in Monte Carlo.
It was as unlike the villa on Cap Pierre as she could imagine. In a modern high-rise block, its decor sleek and contemporary. She stood by the huge-paned glass windows, gazing out over the marina far below, seeing the glittering lights of the city scintillating like diamonds, feeling the rich sensuality of her body, the tremor in her limbs.
Waiting...
Waiting for the man standing behind her, his presence, his scent overpowering her. Waiting for him to make his move...to take her into his arms...his embrace...his bed.
She heard him murmur something, felt the warmth of his breath on the nape of her neck, the drift of his hands around her shoulders, so light, feather-light, and yet with a silken power that made her breath catch, her lips part as the tremor in her limbs intensified. She felt the powerful touch of his palms glide down her bare arms, fasten on her wrists, and with a movement as subtle as it was irresistible, she felt him turn her towards him.
She lifted her face to him, lips parted, eyes deep and lustrous. She was so close she could feel the strength and heat of his body, feel the dark intensity of his gaze, of those eyes holding hers, conveying to her all that she knew was in her own eyes as well.
