So she could tell him she wasn’t interested, that she had barely noticed him and didn’t need to know any more than that. But it would be a lie. Because ever since his arm had captured her waist she’d been trying not to think about all the wicked things she’d like to do with his body. Her brain had thrown a dozen different suggestions at her, each one making her blush more than the last. Top of the list being to get his shirt off, so she could see if the contours of his body looked as good as they felt.
But she couldn’t just take off with him. She had responsibilities here, she thought, her heart rate picking up again, though from desire or panic she couldn’t tell. She had work she had to finish up. She couldn’t just take off because—
Ooh.
His thumb continued its exploration of her jaw, and dipped into her collarbone in a way that made her melt.
When she looked up and met his eyes, the danger there was obvious. But he spelled it out for her, anyway.
‘I want to make you shiver like that again,’ he said slowly. ‘I could try here, but...’ He stroked that magic spot again and she bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself groaning out load.
‘You see the problem?’
She nodded, but... ‘I can’t do this.’
‘You can’t? Or you don’t want to?’
Did it matter? ‘I have a plan for tonight.’ She took another half step away from him, knowing she needed distance. ‘This isn’t it.’
He pulled her back in and rested his forehead against hers. ‘Rachel, you’re killing me. At least come somewhere we can talk.’ His arm dropped from her waist abruptly, but before she could mourn its loss her hand was engulfed by his and she was striding with him across the ballroom.
When they reached the lobby, he whirled around, his lips stopping just inches from hers. Was he doing it on purpose? Tempting her until she lost her mind and gave in?
‘Help me here,’ he said, his voice soft and enticing. ‘You’re attracted to me.’ The lilt of his voice was just charming enough to compensate for his lack of modesty. ‘So what’s stopping you?’
She took her hand back, and a step away from him, understanding that being so close was doing nothing for her decision-making skills. This wasn’t a question of what she wanted; she couldn’t just drop everything and leave on a whim.
‘Nothing’s stopping me,’ she said, keeping her voice carefully even. There was no need for him to know the nagging dread that would start in the base of her brain if she decided to embrace spontaneity. No need for him to know that she’d not done anything without a plan, a back-up plan and a contingency plan since she was a teenager. ‘I’m working. I had some free time scheduled, and thank you for the dance, but now I have to get back.’
He looked at her carefully, and she held his gaze. ‘Do you always have a plan? A schedule?’
‘I do. What’s wrong with that?’
‘Oh, you mean except for the claustrophobia, the inflexibility, the stifling—’ Wisely, he stopped himself, probably remembering he should play to his audience. ‘So I wasn’t in your plan for tonight. But what if something unexpected comes up? That must happen sometimes, right? Meetings get cancelled, things run late. Contracts get lost in the post. What happens to your plans then?’
‘I make a new one,’ she said, wondering what was behind his cut-off outburst, the flash of panic she’d seen on his face.
‘You adapt to the circumstances—just like that. No stress. No panic.’
‘Of course.’ Working with Will could—and frequently did—send crises her way. She smoothed each problem until it fitted neatly into her existing plans, and all without anyone seeing that below the surface she was paddling like a racing swan.
Leo smiled at her as if he’d just scored a point. ‘So make a new plan for tonight. Nothing serious, no reason to change tomorrow’s plans, or any day after that. Just reschedule a couple of hours tonight to fit me in.’
‘A couple of hours?’ She raised an eyebrow at that: one night suited her just fine—her life was too full for anything more—but she had ideas enough already to fill more than a couple of hours. If she was going to do this, she was going to be sure it was worth her while.
And she was intrigued, because he was right. She’d altered plans before. She’d adapted to circumstances. Allowed for last-minute changes. So why shouldn’t she do that tonight? Through the window into the ballroom she caught sight of Will and Maya dancing and remembered what she’d felt earlier, that stab of curiosity, or loneliness, or... Perhaps the fact that she didn’t even know what it was made a good enough reason to do this.
‘I have a few things I have to finish up before I—’
With a smile, he swooped in and pressed a quick, hard kiss to her lips. ‘Just tell me when.’
LEO CRACKED AN eyelid and spotted a tangle of brown hair on the pillow beside him. Relaxing his head back, he was assailed by a stream of memories from the night before. Rachel meeting him outside the ballroom, belting her coat, telling him a cab was waiting for them. Him pressing a kiss to her neck as she unlocked her front door, too impatient to wait until they were inside. Her peeling off the silk of her dress with a teasing glint in her eyes.
He should be getting going, he thought, knowing that waiting round till breakfast could build unreasonable expectations that he might stay till lunch, and then dinner and then... His shoulders tensed, reminding him why breakfast was always a bad idea. Before he knew it, he could find himself trapped by expectations, unable to see his way out. The weight of claustrophobia sat on his chest as he remembered that feeling, of being stuck in a situation he couldn’t escape. Locked in a dorm with people who only wanted to cause him hurt. But that wouldn’t happen with Rachel, he reminded himself. She didn’t want to lock him into anything. They were both happy with just one night. It had been hard enough to persuade her to find a few hours.
A snuffling noise came from beneath the mass of hair, and he smiled, despite himself. Running out of the door might be the safest option—and he wanted that Exit sign well in sight—but as he was hit by more flashbacks, he realised staying could definitely have its advantages.
He glanced around the bedroom, half lit by the summer sun fighting the curtains, and noticed for the first time the neatly arranged furniture, coasters on the bedside tables, books on the shelf organised by size, not a hairbrush or handbag or discarded running shoe in sight. The only items out of place were the trail of clothes from door to bed. So she’d not been faking the control-freakery. He felt a twist of unease again in his belly at what that might mean, whether that control would be heading his way. But he’d been pretty clear last night that he was only after a bit of fun—and she’d been equally frank about not being able to clear more than one night from her schedule for him.
Then a smooth calf rubbed against his leg, and any thoughts of running for the door vanished. Rachel turned her head on the pillow, and he watched her face as her eyes blinked, waiting for the moment when they finally opened properly and focused on him.
‘Hi.’ The sensation of her skin on his was making him impatient, and he wondered if it normally took her this long to come round.
‘Morning.’ She spoke the word quickly, shaking her head and blinking, as if rapidly assessing the situation and devising several different scenario-dependent plans.