Web of Deception - By Nina Blake Page 0,2
the tempura prawns and spring rolls as though the future of the world depended on the decision. Her expression then relaxed as she placed one of each on her plate.
The world was safe after all.
She wasn’t trying to look cute. There was nothing self-conscious or contrived about her movements. She was simply choosing what to eat and had no idea how alluring she looked. There was a naturalness about her which made her all the more attractive.
Daniel was pleased with what he saw. Her arms were slim and toned as she reached across for another morsel. The movement caused her sleeveless top to ride up, exposing the pale flesh of her hip above her low-waisted evening pants. He saw the dip of her waist and the curve of her hip, then too quickly it was once again covered as she straightened.
If she were any other woman, he’d have reached out and taken what he wanted but she’d made it clear they were playing by her rules. For now, anyway.
Holding the prawn by its tail, she took a large bite and turned around, seemingly surprised to see him still standing there.
“Did I really commit such a terrible crime?” he asked.
She chewed thoughtfully, forcing him to wait for his answer. “Absolutely.”
“Are you going to punish me?”
His eyes narrowed as he thought how much fun it would be to let her punish him. It could bring him hours of amusement and pleasure.
Her lips curled to a mischievous smile. “Twenty lashes. Or perhaps you should be exiled to your penthouse.”
He raised one eyebrow. “Alone?”
“Naturally. What kind of punishment would it be if you were allowed to have friends?”
“None at all but I haven’t been that bad. I think I’ve done okay as a host.” He swept one hand across the table. “Because if the quality of the food isn’t up to standard, you can always put in a complaint.”
She looked up at him through thick lashes. “And who is the customer affairs person at Webb Corp?”
He grinned. “All complaints come straight to the top.”
“You’re not too busy for that?”
“I believe in the personal touch.”
“Perhaps you shouldn’t waste your time getting too ‘personal’.”
Turning her head away from him, a hint of boredom in her voice, she oozed confidence. She wrapped those lush lips around the prawn, enjoying a final bite, seemingly so taken by the food that she’d forgotten she was in a room full of people. She was taking her time, savouring every mouthful, her expression one of complete satisfaction.
Daniel couldn’t help but wonder if she enjoyed some of life’s other pleasures with the same level of sensuality.
If there was one thing he knew well, it was how to make the most of everything life had to offer.
She was so wonderfully, completely oblivious to the lascivious thoughts running through his mind as she munched on the hors d’oeuvres. Did she think the appetisers were more important than he was? It made him smile.
“Is something funny?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Not at all. I’m glad you’re enjoying the buffet so much.”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Most of the women I know would probably spend extra time at the gym if they were going to indulge in anything deep fried. They’d be much more likely to go for a salad. Without dressing.”
“Then they’d be missing out.”
He stepped closer to her. “And clearly you don’t want to miss out.”
“Exactly. I mean…” Recognition flashed in her eyes as she got the innuendo and quickly backtracked. “The tempura. The buffet. I wouldn’t want to miss out on all this wonderful gourmet food.”
“There’s so much more where that–”
He couldn’t finish his sentence as another guest tapped him on the shoulder. Daniel didn’t want to chat and brushed the guy off quickly. Looking across, he saw Kate was still there, though for how much longer, he didn’t know. She’d put her plate down and seemed to be looking for someone.
There were too many people here, too many interruptions. And he didn’t want her to get away.
“Let’s go somewhere quieter,” he said. “My study, perhaps.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
He’d made similar suggestions to many women on various occasions but none had questioned it. Ever.
“To talk,” he replied. “It’s rather noisy in here.”
She let out a little laugh. “You’re not going to offer to show me your etchings, are you? That’s a bit of a cliché. Or – don’t tell me – you’ve got some Old Masters in there. Perhaps some Impressionist works. Maybe the odd Monet.”
“No Monets. Just one Paul Klee.”
“You’re kidding.”