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‘You do massage?’
‘I’m not a qualified masseur or anything,’ she said innocently, ‘but I’m sure I could give you a rub that would ease some of your tension.’
‘I think having your hands on my body is more likely to increase rather than decrease my tension,’ he said, with the faint smile that turned her insides to marshmallow.
She cleared her throat of a tiny obstruction. In the background she was vaguely aware of Pierre, moving to and fro from the kitchen to the table. ‘So…what sort of things do you normally do to unwind after a hard day at the office?’ she asked.
From his bland expression she knew he was going to tease her again. ‘Well…I find flirting with a warmly receptive woman very relaxing.’
‘Then you should soon be a positive puddle of contentment,’ she responded, equally bland.
His quick grin was white and wolfish. ‘I already feel myself melting. And what do you like to do to relax, Eve?’
‘Oh, read, sew, cook…’ she said demurely. She lowered her lashes and slowly lifted them again. ‘Make love…’
‘Interesting. I usually find that the act of sex has the opposite effect,’ he murmured, topping her with stunning ease. ‘I don’t feel in the least relaxed when I’m inside a woman’s body. I’m all edgy and agitated, and every muscle feels explosively hot and tight with urgency…’ He paused to take a swallow of whisky, enjoying the way her violet eyes widened and the pulse at the base of her bare throat kicked up a storm. ‘But perhaps the feelings are very different for a woman…’
Regan hoped not! She mastered the impulse to throw herself on top of him and demand that he demonstrate right there and then.
She gave a blasé shrug of her slender shoulders instead. ‘Men and women aren’t so very different—’
‘Honey, if you think that, then you must have skipped human biology in high school,’ he interrupted drolly.
In fact her mother had removed her from class whenever there had been a danger she might be contaminated by sex education disguised as legitimate learning.
‘I took Classics rather than Sciences,’ she retaliated. ‘But I meant in terms of having equal sexual needs and desires.’
‘Equal but different,’ he agreed. ‘I don’t suppose my sexual fantasies are the same as yours.’
He sounded so smugly certain she immediately wanted to take him down a peg or two. ‘Which is not to say yours are any better than mine!’
He almost choked on the dregs of his whisky as a chuckle rumbled up from his chest. ‘If I show you mine will you show me yours?’
Her blank response prompted him to continue. ‘Didn’t you ever play doctors and nurses as a kid?’
‘I was an only child.’
‘And? Surely there was some chubby little charmer in the neighbourhood who suggested disappearing into the nearest wardrobe with his play-stethoscope and handy torch?’
‘If he had, he’d have found himself without a head.’
‘So you were an aggressive, assertive little girl?’ he speculated, looking deeply intrigued.
‘I was very biddable and angelic,’ she said primly, using a straight face to imply that her truth was actually an outrageous lie. ‘But my mother was extremely vigilant where the seven deadly sins were concerned.’
‘Thereby not giving you much of a chance to be anything else,’ he guessed with uncomfortably swift perception.
‘I’m sure I still have my trusty halo here somewhere,’ she said, delicately patting her fingertips down the side of her dress.
‘Somewhat tarnished by now, I suppose?’ he drawled, his gaze following the taunting trail.
‘Oh, I take it out every now and then and give it a good polish,’ she said, exhilarated by her newfound ability to hold her own against his quick wit.
‘And groom your golden wings?’
‘No wings,’ she dimpled, ‘but I do have a pitchfork in my other dress.’
‘Ahh…a woman of dangerous contradictions. I see my first act should not have been to kiss your hand but to pat you down for concealed weapons.’
