Millionaire Under The Mistletoe: The Playboy's Mistress / Christmas in the Billionaire's Bed / The Boss's Mistletoe Manoeuvres. Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

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      ‘Delicious,’ she heard Reece agree faintly after he very visibly swallowed.

      ‘Would you like another, Reece?’

      Reece patted his stomach. ‘Love to, but I don’t want to take the edge off my appetite—I’m taking Darcy to lunch,’ he explained glibly.

      ‘First I’ve heard about it.’

      ‘It was meant to be a surprise, darling.’ He glanced at the steel-banded watch on his wrist. ‘Talking of which, we should be making a move—I’ve booked a table for twelve.’

      ‘Where would that be…darling?’ she wondered innocently. The man was entirely too slick.

      ‘Why, where else but your favourite, daaarling?’ Reece drawled smoothly.

      ‘Twelve…? You’d better get a move-on, Darcy; it’ll take you twenty minutes to get to the Bull’s Head. You give my best to the family.’

      Darcy bent forward and kissed the older man’s cheek. ‘I will, Uncle Rick. Why, Reece!’ she exclaimed, picking up the glass carefully secreted behind a potted palm. ‘You’ve forgotten your sherry,’ she reminded him spitefully.

      ‘So I have.’ He met her eyes and, nostrils flared, tipped back the glass, downing the contents in one gulp—like taking nasty medicine, she thought, stifling the urge to giggle.

      ‘Was that a test, or an initiation ceremony?’ he muttered under his breath as they walked together back to the Land Rover.

      If it had been he’d have passed with flying colours. ‘Uncle Rick only hands out the mince pies and sherry to valued friends and customers.’

      ‘I’m surprised he still has any.’

      ‘Shut up,’ she hissed, waving through the window. ‘He’ll hear you.’

      ‘What was that I just drank?’

      ‘Sherry.’

      ‘I’ve tasted sherry, sweetheart, and that wasn’t it.’

      Darcy, who had sampled the sweet, syrupy concoction in the past, had some sympathy with his view. ‘It’s probably safer to call it fortified wine,’ she conceded.

      ‘How about we head for the Bull’s Head, your favourite watering hole?’ he reminded her drily.

      ‘How about I drop you at the nearest bus station? Oh, sorry, I forgot I’m talking to limo man.’

      ‘Helicopters are my preferred mode of transport. Do you realise that nearly all our conversations have taken place while you’re at the wheel of a car—?’

      ‘Is there anything wrong with my driving?’ she asked belligerently.

      ‘Not a thing—when you’re looking at the road. It would make a nice change to be able to have a conversation that doesn’t prohibit the odd physical gesture.’

      Darcy swallowed nervously and decided it would be safer to never relinquish her place at the wheel. ‘Your problem,’ she announced scornfully, ‘is you think I’ll agree to anything if you kiss me.’

      ‘From where I’m sitting that’s a revelation not a problem.’

      It was one revelation too many for Darcy; she couldn’t concentrate on the road when her mind was full of forbidden images. The battle of words, at times undeniably stimulating, had lost all appeal. With a muffled plea for heavenly intervention she brought the Land Rover to an abrupt halt on the grassy verge. Without even bothering to switch off the engine, she leapt from the driver’s seat.

      Reece switched off the engine and pocketed the keys before following her.

      Darcy, who was hunched over, her hands braced against her thighs, turned her head to look at him.

      ‘Go away!’ she pleaded hoarsely. She didn’t actually hold out much hope of his doing as she requested.

      ‘Are you all right?’

      ‘Very obviously not.’ She took another deep breath and slowly straightened up. She brushed a few stray strands of hair from her face; it was an intensely weary gesture. ‘If you must know, I couldn’t stand being in that car with you any longer.’ She was past caring what he thought.

      Reece didn’t seem to take offence in her anguished observation. ‘It’s pretty intense, isn’t it?’ he commiserated.

      Darcy’s brows drew into a suspicious line above her wide, startled eyes. ‘Are you saying that you…?’ She moved her head in a scornful negative gesture, rejecting the idea that Reece could be similarly affected by her proximity.

      ‘I can’t stop thinking about last night or wanting it to happen again.’ His tone might have been matter-of-fact bordering on rudely abrupt, but the lick of flames in his deep-set eyes was not!

      Darcy was shaking so hard she had to fold her arms tight across her middle to hide the tremors. In the process she unwittingly drew attention to her full, heaving bosom. ‘That was sex.’

      ‘That was exceptional sex,’ Reece contradicted firmly. ‘A relationship has to start somewhere.’

      Darcy looked at him blankly. ‘Relationship…? You don’t want a relationship.’

      ‘How do you know what I want?’ he demanded.

      ‘Well, do you?’

      ‘Maybe not. Well, actually, no, I don’t want a relationship. I don’t want to be celibate either.’

      He didn’t even have the guts to look her in the eye when he said it, she thought wrathfully. The perversity of the average male was simply breathtaking. But it had shut up the voice in her head, the one recklessly shrieking ‘Go for it! Go for it!’, and a good thing too, she decided glumly.

      ‘The only thing I know for sure I want is you.’

      She couldn’t legitimately complain about eye-contact now—an earthquake couldn’t have broken the grip his dark-lashed eyes had on her. The air escaped her lungs in one long, sibilant hiss; her eyes, huge in her pale face, were glued to his face. Her thoughts were in total chaos. You can’t let yourself be seduced by someone saying he wants you—even if that someone is Reece Erskine, she told herself angrily.

      ‘Naturally I’m flattered,’ she drawled, giving a scornful, unnatural little laugh that implied just the opposite.

      His jaw tightened. ‘I’m not trying to flatter you.’ Reece, who prided himself on self-control, discovered he couldn’t take his eyes from the lush curve of her lovely lips, even though the looking caused the distant buzzing in his head to increase significantly.

      ‘What are you trying to do, then?’ Other than drive me out of my mind, that is…? It just didn’t seem possible for a man to walk into her life and turn everything upside-down. ‘You may be in the mood for some sort of holiday romance, but I simply don’t have the time, energy or inclination.’ Well, the first two at least were true.

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