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The tax dodger and I stare at each other in shock.
We are connected at such a deep level it is even beyond attraction, desire or lust. I don’t know how long I would have stood there if not for the expression of fury that suddenly crosses his face. He jerks away from my finger. The rejection is like a slap in the face.
He blinks away the tears, and I unlock my frozen muscles and force my hand down. I turn away from him blindly, my mind blank with shock. I’m here for Rob’s black umbrella. I start looking around and spot it tucked under the table close to his leg. Yes, that’s what I came for. I bend, grab it and quickly straighten.
‘Well, I’ll be off then,’ I say awkwardly.
Without looking him in the eye again, I begin to hurry toward the door. I place my hand on the door handle and turn it.
‘Will you have dinner with me, tonight?’ His voice rings out and wraps around me like a cloak.
Dinner with him?
I take a deep breath. Oh my! It’s shocking how much I want to agree. I turn around slowly. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t. It wouldn’t be appropriate,’ I say quietly.
‘Why not?’
‘You’re under investigation and I’m the investigating officer. It would be wrong.’
‘I thought it was the restaurant you were investigating.’
‘You know it’s the same thing,’ I answer more truthfully than I normally would have done.
‘Don’t you think you’d find out more about me and the restaurant over dinner than you would pouring through dull reports from your central computer.’ His voice is soft and persuasive.
Desire clings to my ankles like the waves that suck at your feet when you’re standing at the shoreline. ‘I don’t think that would be very ethical.’
‘Spare me the crap, Ella. They’ll fucking hang a medal on you if you bring in a rope of information to hang me with.’
‘Look, Mr. Eden—’
‘Dom,’ he corrects softly.
I bite my lower lip and hover uncertainly by the door. I have never been so confused or conflicted before. He gets to his feet and starts walking toward me. Instantly I feel a flare of panic. He comes within two feet of me before stopping. Too close. Way too close. His face is no longer
in the light, but deeply shadowed, the outlines faint. Only his eyes shine with lust.
The damp curls caressing his powerful neck make me itch to push the fingers of both my hands into them. I even imagine myself sluttishly dragging my fingers up his scalp. As if he has heard my thoughts he leans closer. His scent invades my nostrils and my breath hitches. Staring up into his eyes, I feel my body slowly inching toward him. There is no doubt in my mind that he is dangerous for my sanity. That I should say no.
That I must say no.
‘Will you come?’ His deep voice seduces in the dark.
I really want to say no. I really, really do. It’s the right thing to do. The most professional thing to do. But I remember again how we stared into each other’s eyes and I felt as if our souls were touching.
And there is this attraction: irrational, crazy and unlike anything I have ever experienced. My mouth is watering to taste him and it is beyond words or explanations.
Am I just behaving in this reckless way because he’s so drop-dead gorgeous? Or is it because I saw something I shouldn’t have seen? Or is it because beyond my professional pride, my life is pretty dreary, and he is one of those shining things that come by once, if you’re very lucky, in a lifetime?
Whatever it is, it makes me feel like an iron filing helpless in the pull of a giant magnet. This thing between us is unlike anything I have ever experienced and it is blatantly clear that I am not going to be able to think of anything but him for weeks. Either with regret that I succumbed to temptation, or with regret that I did not reach out and take what I wanted so badly. It is so hard to say no to someone your body craves, but say no I must.
Two throaty words tumble out. ‘All right.’
‘Good,’ he mutters, and I’m startled to hear the same conflict in his voice that I heard in my head. He doesn’t want to want me! It’s just as inconvenient for him.
‘I’ll pick you up at seven?’ he murmurs.
I nod.
