“Where are you parked?” asked Nate, pressing a hand to Saskia’s lower back.
She actually felt the warmth of him through her top.
“I’ll walk you to your car.”
“I walked. I don’t live far.” She’d planned on walking back too, only now she could afford transport. “I’ll grab a cab.”
One nod, then Nate looked across the busy street and with a determined wave hailed a cab. He opened the back door for her and she leaned in to give her Brunswick address to the cabbie.
She stood to say goodbye, or thanks, or see you soon, or whatever a girl was meant to say to her new faux-boyfriend.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Saskia Bloom,” Nate said, taking the decision out of her hands.
She placed her hand in his to find it enveloped in his strong, steady grip. “We’ll see, Nate Mackenzie,” she said.
Nate’s laughter was low—a rumble that slid down her arm and faded into the darkness. Leaving them looking into one another’s eyes. Hands still held. Two strangers who had just made a deal to pretend to be more.
Saskia moved in for a goodnight kiss on the cheek…right as Nate let go and pulled away.
Oh, God. He’d meant to give her a handshake while she’d—argh!
Saskia saw the moment Nate knew it, and as blood rushed from every extremity to land hard and fast on her cheeks a smile tugged at the corner of Nate’s mouth.
She opened her mouth to say…Well, she didn’t get a chance to say anything, as Nate’s hand slid to her waist and he pulled her close.
His blue eyes were shadowed, the street light creating a halo around his dark blond hair. He looked cool, steely, all greys and blues. And yet his touch was hot, as if a furnace burned just below the surface.
His nostrils flared as he moved in slowly, giving her time to call a halt.
But in the face of all that heat and strength, the scent of man, and after seven long months with a wiry, snoring, biscuitoholic dog her only male companionship, she wasn’t going anywhere.
A small smile kicked at the corner of his sensual mouth and then, easy as you please, he brushed his lips lightly across hers.
When she didn’t push him away, or knee him, he pulled her closer still, shooting sparks of awareness all over her body. Then, with another soft, tantalising press of his lips, he teased her, drawing out the kiss until her lips parted on a sigh.
He didn’t waste a second, his tongue tracing her teeth before sweeping inside her mouth. She gripped his jacket as, arching against his hands, into his heat and hardness, pleasure tugged at her belly before pooling lower.
The cold night air pressed in on her back as his heat burned her front. Heat won, pouring through her as the kiss slid into something deeper. Nate fisted his hands in the back of her top and Saskia rose to her toes, sinking completely into the kiss, into him.
As she began to feel drugged, hot and flaky, nearing the edge of control, Nate pulled back.
When she finally found her breath, Saskia asked, “What was that for?”
“Credibility.”
She glanced up the street to find a few late night stragglers looking in shop windows and ignoring them completely. “I reckon the cabbie’s convinced.”
Nate laughed, the sound reverberating through her still pulsing body. “So am I, to be honest. A hell of a lot more than I was five minutes ago.”
Saskia blinked up into Nate’s hooded eyes. When she licked her lips his grip tightened, and Saskia could feel her pulse whumping all over her body as her heat levels ramped up in preparation for more…
Then Nate neatly pulled away, making sure she was steady before he let her go completely. She wasn’t. Steady. She was wondering if she’d bitten off more than she could chew.
Hands now in pockets, all that latent heat trapped behind a wall of cool, Nate said, “Six weeks and a bit. And a wedding.” As if she might need some kind of warning.
You kissed me! she ached to throw it back at him, but she’d been all too willing to let him.
“And debts paid off,” she said instead, getting the feeling it would become some kind of mantra in the weeks to come. “And if you decide to be helpful and tell me about your dating life, I’ll be all ears.”
“Sweetheart, I’d pay double what you asked not to have to talk.” He held the back door of the cab as she slid inside. “I’ll call you soon.”
Saskia nodded, and as the cab drove away she couldn’t help but look back, to find him standing on the footpath, watching her too. Tall, broad, hair gleaming under the lamplight.
She lifted a finger to her mouth, which still tingled from the attention of his wonderful mouth.
There goes a man I could forgive for snapping my carrots, she thought. And probably a lot worse.
CHAPTER THREE
NATE RAN TWO hands over his face, trying to get some blood flowing to his brain. He was working more than ever; the number of emails bouncing into his inbox every minute proved it.
Ignoring them as best he could, he concentrated on the contract on his desk. Bamford Smythe, the “gaming guy” whose start-up company BamBam Games Gabe had discovered, had signed an exclusivity agreement with BonAventure, and now they were in the process of nutting out the finer details of the capital investment.
Smythe was pessimistic, pedantic and paranoid that everyone was trying to steal his ideas. Thankfully he was also brilliant. Nate just had to keep him on a short leash—which was turning out to be akin to lassoing a Tasmanian devil.
A knock at the door and a glance at the watch strapped to his wrist told Nate that it was three already. Dammit.
Rubbing a hand up the back of his neck, he called, “Come in.”
The door was opened tentatively, followed by a head poking around the door. “Hiya.”
“Saskia.”
After their date he’d emailed her with a half-dozen questions—basic stats about age, family, schooling. Then she’d called, suggesting they get together for a “get to know one another” in a “pretend we’ve had a half-dozen dates” kind of way. He’d told her to make an appointment, hoping she might waver. Alas, she wasn’t easily swayed.
Nate waved her in with one hand and finished annotating with the other. “Won’t be a sec,” he said, glancing up as she sauntered in. But his hands stopped midscrawl when he saw what she was wearing.
Her hair was tucked beneath the same fedora from her online profile picture, her legs were swimming in wide calf-skimming pants that looked like they’d been cut from a Hessian sack, sandals were tied up over her ankles, and she wore a brown cardigan she near got lost in, and a scarf long enough that a lesser woman would have stooped under its weight.
A thread of tension shot through him, landing with a twitch at the corner of his right eye as he considered what his family would be expecting. Certainly not this gamine creature who looked as if she might start sprouting poetry or drawing in chalk on his office floor.
What had he been thinking?
She shot him a quick smile as she took a curious tour about the room, her wide eyes shadowed beneath her hat, her lips soft and pink. The memory of how they’d felt beneath his own hit him and hit him hard—her gentle heat, her soft sighs,