Mistress At A Price. Sara Craven
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Название: Mistress At A Price
Автор: Sara Craven
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
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There was a silence, then he said quietly, ‘Are you sure that you want to? You might not like the answer.’
‘It’s seems only fair,’ she said. ‘So I’ll take the risk.’
‘Then I have to confess that I’m indulging all the basic male fantasies.’ His eyes went to her mouth, then travelled down to the swell of her breasts. His tone was clipped, his mouth unsmiling. ‘I’m remembering that moment this afternoon when I held you, and felt you tremble against me. I’m imagining what it would be like to have you in my arms again, and to kiss you—and how you’d look without your clothes.’
She felt as if all the air had been sucked out of her lungs. She was shaking again, but not from shock—or fear. Her heartbeat quickened almost painfully.
From some great distance she heard herself say quietly, huskily, ‘How strange, because I’m wondering much the same about you.’
Liam pushed back his chair and rose. He came round the table to her, taking her hand, pulling her to her feet.
He said softly, ‘So why waste any more time? Why don’t we simply go upstairs—and satisfy our mutual curiosity?’
He looked deeply into her eyes. ‘Well?’ he asked, and she nodded mutely in reply.
Still holding her hand, Liam strode through the restaurant, threading his way between the tables.
Cat tried to hang back. She said breathlessly, ‘But we can’t just leave. There’s the bill to pay …’
‘They’ll know how to find me,’ he said. ‘When they need to.’
They climbed the stairs together, side by side. When they reached the door of her room Cat said, ‘Will you give me a few minutes?’
He framed her face in his hands, looking down at her, his mouth wry. ‘Having second thoughts, Cat? Planning to run away again—or lock your door against me?’
She shook her head. ‘None of those, I—I promise. I just—need a little time to myself.’
‘Maybe we both do.’ He released her, his hand stroking the hair back from her face. ‘But don’t keep me waiting too long.’ And strode away.
The room, she discovered, had been made ready for the night—curtains drawn, bed turned down, the lamp lit on the night table and her nightgown fanned across the coverlet.
The hotel staff must have known all along that she would stay, Cat thought, biting her lip. Just as she had known it herself, of course, in spite of her denials.
She undressed without haste and put on her nightgown, adjusting the narrow straps on her shoulders. She brushed her hair, and sprayed her pulse-points with her favourite scent.
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