shook her head. “No need. I like fish. Just whatever you’re having.”
Good. She wasn’t fussy. I liked that. It gave me control.
“We’ll go for the seafood cocktail for entrée. The salmon for the main course. Vegetables. And the Gustave Lorentz Pinot Gris.”
The waiter nodded. “Very well, sir.”
“This is such an amazing place,” she said, looking up at the ceiling, which boasted a fresco of dancing nymphs in diaphanous robes.
“I like it here. The lighting’s subdued, which suits me. A lot of restaurants tend to go for bright lights.”
She nodded. “I hate bright lights.”
We smiled in that way people do when discovering they have something in common.
12
* * *
PENELOPE
“OH LOOK, THE MOON’S reflecting off the window.” I pointed at the antiquarian bookshop’s bay window.
“The moon always brings poetry to a night,” he said, staring up at the sky.
My body melted again. Who is this guy? He had a soft, artistic side to his nature that surprised me. Even when walking, he switched from doing a supercilious strut to ambling elegantly close by my side.
He turned to face me. The big shiny black car waited for us. Although I was tipsy, I wasn’t sure what to expect. After such a delicious dinner and the best wine I’d ever tasted, I’d finally relaxed. Blake had even laughed a little. His handsome face, which looked gorgeous no matter what mood he was in, lightened, and he almost let me in. But there was also something guarded about him.
Looking the part of rich tycoon in a fitted blue sports jacket, he regarded me. “What would you like to do now?”
I shrugged. “Have you got any ideas?”
“We could go for a spin around the Tate. Or we could go back to my house, where I could try to seduce you. Or…”
“Or?” I asked, my face burning from his audacious suggestion.
Am I ready to go to bed with him so quickly? I couldn’t deny it—Blake Sinclair had woven a spell.
“I can almost see the thoughts ticking away in that beautiful head of yours.”
“The Tate sounds good,” I said, disappointing the wild cat within.
He nodded neutrally with no hint of disappointment. Unlike me. I wanted Blake to express his urgent need to ravish me. I liked knowing he was hungry for me after I’d been staring at his mouth all night, wondering how his lips would feel against mine.
I looked up at Blake. “Can I change my mind?”
He opened his big hands. “As long as you grace me with your company, I’m happy for us to just walk if you like.”
“Okay.” I looked at the Thames with the moon’s reflection rippling away. “It’s a beautiful night, and after that dessert”—I touched my belly—“I probably should exercise a little.”
“You’re still young, and you’re not overweight, Penelope.”
He stopped and looked at me. Under the lamplight, his blue eyes had gone dark, almost black.
“I’m not that young.”
“You’re twenty-three.”
“Yes. How do you know that?”
“I know a lot about you,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Now you’re creeping me out. You’ve had me investigated?”
He shook his head. “It’s on public record. You’re an artist. You sell art.”
“Oh… really? I’ve only ever sold a few works.”
“It’s still registered. Date of birth and the like.”
“What, even my address?” I didn’t hide my alarm.
“Not that. But hey, I’m not the big bad wolf.” He smiled, and those dimples made me want to slap and kiss him at the same time.
“So you’ve said,” I replied dryly.
His grin faded into a serious expression. “You still seem a little uptight toward me. Is it because of the Cherry Orchard?”
“Not really. You’re just a little intimidating.”
He took my hand and stared deep into my eyes. “Your beauty intimidates me too.”
Now it was my turn to frown. “How?”
“You’re innocent. You’re like a fragile flower. I want to keep drawing it in, but in order to retain its beauty, a flower shouldn’t be plucked.”
“But it eventually withers.”
“I can’t imagine you ever withering.” He drew me close.
I breathed him in, and his masculine scent, infused with subtle cologne, made me melt into his embrace. I looked up, and before my next breath, his head lowered to mine. My lips parted in anticipation.
He ran his tongue along his cushiony lips, and then they touched mine.
My brain shut down, giving my body total say.
His mouth, soft and moist, gently caressed mine. He tasted of wine and honey. His arms held me tight, and I floated on a cloud. His tongue touched my mouth. I allowed him in, and he entered, his tongue twining around mine.