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He glanced at his watch. ‘What about right now?’
‘It’s the middle of the afternoon!’
‘So? Haven’t you ever drunk champagne in the middle of the afternoon?’
The look on her face suggested she had not and, even though Leon was already doubting the wisdom of his invitation, he seemed powerless to stop himself from pursuing it.
‘Come on, Marnie,’ he continued softly. ‘What do you have to lose?’
But she shook her head. ‘Thanks, but no thanks. I have to get home and anyway, I’m not dressed to go for a drink.’
For a moment Leon was so surprised and yes, so irritated by her refusal that he was tempted to let her walk right out of that door. And then his gaze was drawn to the unwanted invitation to his father’s wedding, which was lying in a prominent position on his desk, and he reminded himself that sometimes life’s pleasures needed to be grabbed at.
‘Then how about you let me give you a lift home instead?’ he questioned evenly. ‘To Act On.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘WHAT DO YOU have to lose?’ Leon had demanded when he’d invited her to toast her sister’s freedom, and Marnie could have answered in an instant.
Her sanity?
Her composure?
Most of all, the sense that she still had some element of control over her life.
She had refused the drink and not just because she was wearing clothes which would have made her stand out like a sore thumb. It was more to do with the fact that Leon was such a big personality. He was so handsome and charismatic that people would be bound to stare at them if he took them to a fancy venue, which undoubtedly he would. What if people saw them together and started asking questions about her? It was a risk she wasn’t prepared to take, having kept herself below the radar all through her life. But Leon was nothing if not persistent and eventually Marnie had agreed to a lift home, thinking he might send her off in a flashy car with a chauffeur at the wheel. That part of the equation had been correct—she just hadn’t been expecting Leon to slide into the back seat beside her, his powerful presence immediately dominating everything around him.
Despite the vast dimensions of the luxury car, the atmosphere inside felt claustrophobic and not just because the windows were tinted, concealing them from the outside world. It was more to do with the realisation that she badly wanted him to touch her again, even though every instinct was telling her that was a terrible idea. He was powerful and autocratic. He was right out of her league. It was just a pity that her traitorous body didn’t seem to agree. Her palms were sweaty. Her knees were trembling. Worst of all, they were already snarled up in traffic and Acton was a long way from the West End. She swallowed, aware of the silken throb of desire low in her belly. Would she be able to endure another thirty minutes of this torture? She wasn’t sure.
‘Shouldn’t you be at work?’ she demanded when he crossed one long leg over another and she found herself following the movement like a dog eyeing the revolution of a can-opener.
‘I’m the boss. My hours are my own and I can do whatever I like—within reason. What’s the matter, Marnie?’ he questioned softly, stilling her by putting his hand on her arm. ‘You seem very fidgety.’
‘Is it any wonder? I wasn’t expecting company.’
‘And is my company so very awful?’
‘It’s not that. It’s more a case of... Leon! What...what the hell do you...’ Her question tailed off as his thumb began to caress her through the thin material of her jacket and she wondered if he could feel her shiver. Just as she wondered how it was possible to feel so aroused when all he was stroking was her arm. ‘...do you think you’re doing?’ she whispered.
‘I think you know perfectly well what I’m doing. I’m trying to find out whether your skin is as deliciously soft as I remember and it most certainly is.’ Without missing a beat he moved his hand down to her leg. ‘I’m also a little surprised to discover that you’re wearing stockings, since you didn’t strike me as a stockings kind of woman, Miss Porter.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I thought you were prim.’ A skim of fingertips against the quiver of flesh, as his voice deepened. ‘And these don’t feel remotely prim.’
His fingers were inching up beneath her skirt and Marnie knew now was not the moment to enlighten him that she found tights constricting and liked her skin to be able to breathe properly. She swallowed but that didn’t affect the terrible dust-dry feeling in her throat. She knew she ought to slap his hand away and stop him, but the trouble was that she didn’t want to stop him. She wanted his hand to continue creeping up towards its drenched and aching destination. Would it be so wrong to allow herself a few moments of bliss before telling him this was a bad idea, or could he then rightly accuse her of leading him on? But she was powerless to prevent her eyes from closing as he drew a light circle over one trembling thigh and she wondered if he’d noticed the spill of flesh over the top of her hold-ups.
But suddenly all her perceived imperfections didn’t matter because his slow stroking was becoming more and more irresistible and it was taking all her willpower not to whimper her approval, especially since he had bent his head and begun trailing soft kisses across her neck.
‘Leon,’ she whispered, but that throaty murmur sounded nothing like her normal voice.
‘Shh...’
His velvety cajolement made the words die on her lips because he had reached her panties at last and was pushing the moist fabric aside and her eyes snapped open in alarm.
‘Your...driver,’ she gasped.
‘There’s a screen between us and him,’ he murmured. ‘And it’s one-way. He can’t see us and he can’t hear us.’
