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‘No...’ I consider him long and hard, imagine him out of his suit in some casual wear, in a pub, on a beach, eating fish and chips on a street corner...no, not him. ‘What do you do to wind down?’
His brows pinch together as he sends me another look. ‘Wind down?’
‘Yes! You know, how do you fill your spare time? What do you get up to at weekends? I know you don’t drink so partying is out.’
‘You can party well enough without alcohol.’
The strength of his statement is jarring, but he’s right though. ‘True,’ I say but internally I’m filing away his reaction for future examination. ‘And do you?’
His brows lift. ‘Party?’
‘Not just party, wind down, chill out...’
I look to the road ahead and the speed limit sign, sneak a look at the speedometer and suppress a tickled smile that he is a notch below. He drives like my late grandad with his specs and his cataracts—God rest his soul.
‘I don’t know.’ He shrugs. ‘Stuff.’
‘Stuff?’ Now I do laugh and it’s soft with fascination. ‘Sounds thrilling.’
‘Just because I don’t need to tear it up on a racetrack, risk my life on a mountain cliff, it doesn’t make me boring.’
‘I didn’t say you were.’
‘You said boring.’
‘No, I said your car was boring. But then I love my cars, so you have to forgive me that one.’
‘Right.’ He nods, looks out of his driver’s window before going back to the road with a surprising smile on his face.
‘I mean it. In fact, I think you’re a bit of an enigma and I happen to find that quite interesting.’
‘I’mthe enigma?’
‘Yes.’
‘Funny. I thought the same about you four weeks ago...’
Four weeks. The club. DareDevils. Electra.
The very air ignites between us, the mood shifting so far away from playful as the memories send heat rushing through my core and my thighs clamp together, my lips part. Is he reliving it too?
His eyes fall to where the slit of my dress has parted over my legs, only for a split second, but it’s enough for me to witness the reciprocal desire.
‘And what do you think now, Valentine?’ I say softly. ‘Still the enigma?’
‘No.’ He looks away, the muscles in his jaw contracting. ‘I think I know you better than you know yourself.’
And just like that his arrogance has my blood boiling and my eyes snapping to the window.
‘Oh, to be all knowing like you...’
His chuckle is low. ‘What can I say? It’s a gift.’
And there’s the cocky marketer who should be driving a flash Porsche...the cocky marketer that I want to crack.
Tonight may be about raising the profile of the charity, pushing forward with exciting political initiatives, but I have so much more in mind. I just need to play my knickerless card right and before the night is over Valentine won’t be lording it over me—he’ll be well and truly under me.
‘Tell me again about the people we’re meeting...’ I ask to fill the silence in the car, the tension thrumming beneath the surface. In reality, I don’t need to hear it again. I’ve done my research. I know what I want to ask, what I want to glean from tonight’s meet-up. But I also want Valentine to relax, right up until the point we arrive, and then...
