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The doors pinged open and she leapt out. Her feet were aching from wearing high shoes and on the spur of the moment she stooped and took them off so that the long dress pooled on the ground.
‘Undressing already?’ Gabriel murmured in a sinfully seductive voice.
‘My feet are killing me. I’m not used to wearing heels.’
‘Well, give them a good night’s rest and I shall see you in the morning.’ He inclined his head politely, spun round on his heels and started walking towards his bedroom which was a little further up from hers.
And tomorrow, Alice thought feverishly, all this would be forgotten. That kiss in the back of the limo...the way he had looked at her...their conversation after the party: it would all be forgotten in the cold, clear light of day because that was just how things were.
She was the perfect secretary and if, by some weird twist of fate, he made her feel young and alive and filled with possibilities then that was something she would have to set to one side.
Maybe even to learn from it.
If a man whose value system left her cold managed to rouse her the way he did, then it was time for her to do something about getting her toes wet in the dating game instead of gathering cobwebs on the hard shoulder.
Shoes in hand, she watched as he fished into his jacket pocket for the key to his door. He wasn’t even looking at her. He was going to shut that door behind him and...
She would never know.
‘Wait!’
Gabriel turned slowly and smiled. Had he known that she would stop him? For once, he had been faced with an unpredictable outcome and he really wasn’t sure what he would have done if she had struck off to her own room, shoes in hand, to get a good night’s sleep and rest her feet.
He wasn’t sure whether a few cold showers would dampen his raging libido.
‘Yes?’
Alice sprinted towards him. It was funny but she hadn’t realised how old she was in her behaviour, in her whole outlook on life, until he had come along and shaken her up so that everything had gone topsy-turvy and then resettled, but in different positions.
She was twenty-five years old—when was the last time she had had an adventure?
She stood in front of him and looked up. ‘Okay.’
‘Okay...?’
‘You know what I’m talking about. I...I’m attracted to you and I really don’t understand why. You’re not my type at all.’
‘Promising start. That way, you won’t start getting ideas.’
‘What sort of ideas? Oh, forget I asked. Georgia-type ideas about having you around for longer than five seconds and getting attached and projecting into a non-existent future.’ She laughed edgily. ‘I work for you, remember? I’m not that stupid.’
‘What’s brought about the change of mind? I thought after we kissed that I was under instructions to forget about it immediately and pretend it had never happened.’ He pushed open the bedroom door and stepped inside, switching on the light at the same time, then immediately dimming it to a mellow glow.
The bed had been turned back, not that there had been any need, and her pulses picked up their tempo as she looked at it—king-sized and beckoning her like a dangerous dare.
‘Well?’ he prompted, walking towards the sofa and flopping down on it, legs apart, arms resting loosely along the back.
‘I...I suppose this is a one-off for me, and I know it’s not a good idea, but...’
‘Life is always full of buts,’ Gabriel agreed. ‘That’s what makes it so challenging.’ Except, truthfully, it contained relatively few buts for him, especially where a woman was involved. He had never had to try, so he hadn’t. His emotional life had never contained any areas of hesitations and certainly no buts.
Silence settled between them and then he said softly, ‘Take off your clothes.’
‘What?’
‘Let me see you naked, in front of me.’
‘I...I can’t.’
‘Why not?’ Something suddenly struck him: her innocence. The way she blushed, the hint of unbearable youth lurking underneath the professional exterior. ‘You’re not a virgin, are you?’
‘Would it make a difference if I was?’
‘Yes.’ He sat forward, alert. ‘It would.’
‘Why?’ She edged towards him and dropped the shoes on the floor. It would have felt strange to have plonked herself next to him on the sofa so she sat on one of the chairs.
Talking was giving her time to doubt her decision. If she had fallen passionately into bed with him, she wouldn’t have had time to think, but maybe this was a good thing. Maybe they both needed to talk, because this was not an ordinary situation, and a lot could change for the worse in its aftermath.
