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‘No.’
‘Oh.’
He places his Scotch glass down, his meaning becoming clearer.
‘Michael Brophy, are you asking me to go to New York with you?’
His eyes don’t waver from mine. ‘Yes.’
My throat is thick. Pleasure is unfurling inside me. New York is one of those places I’ve always, always dreamed of visiting. Mentally, I’d catalogued it into the ‘too hard’ basket. This trip, this time, is about Europe. Some time in my future I planned to tick New York off the bucket list.
And now this veritable sex god is offering me a chance to go there, and to see it with him?
‘Unless you’d rather work?’
I look towards the bar with a tiny shred of guilt, but it’s quickly consumed by my smile.
‘Between work and New York, I think that’s a pretty easy decision. Oh, and you, I suppose.’
‘I’m glad I factor in there somewhere.’ His grin is like sex as an expression. My gut pulls. And then he’s serious, in charge, sensible. ‘I’ll send a car for you at four on Friday.’
His authority is like a whip; the ease with which he wields it is something about him I store in my brain for later analysis. He turns to go and every cell in my body screams out in rejection of that.
‘You’re leaving?’ I hear myself ask in disbelief.
He turns to face me. ‘Is there a reason I should stay?’
Is there? ‘It’s Wednesday.’
He lifts a brow, looking at me, waiting for me to elaborate. Damn it all to hell, I want him too much to care about my pride.
‘Friday’s two nights away.’
His laugh is low and throaty, and quick to die. He takes a step towards me, then another, so our bodies touch, and he curves a hand around my cheek, lifting my face to his.
‘So it is, Millie.’
> His kiss is hard, his lips crushing mine, so pleasure splinters inside me, thundering through my body, robbing me of all sense. I lift my hand to his shirt, curling it in the fabric I find there and a low, soft moan is trapped in my throat.
It is the work of an instant; he raises his head again, pierces me with those intelligent, inquisitive eyes of his. ‘Is that a problem?’
Heat pools between my legs. ‘You’d better believe it’s a problem.’ My breath is coming thick and fast. ‘I finish at ten. You should be waiting for me...’
There’s something in his eyes—determination or resistance, a struggle I don’t understand. And then he grins, his lips lopsided, and my stomach rolls and flips and flops.
‘Or what?’ He lifts a finger to the corner of my mouth, tracing my lower lip, his eyes following the gesture.
‘Or I’ll think of a very creative way to make you pay.’
His laugh is from deep in his chest. ‘Come over when you’re done.’ He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a card. It’s only once he’s left that I realise it’s the key to his apartment.
I can’t stop smiling.
CHAPTER FIVE
IT’S PITCH-BLACK WHEN I get to his apartment a few hours later, save for a soft glow coming from the elegant lounge area.
‘Hello?’
