‘So how did Finn propose?’
Amber laughed and shook her head, the thick hair swaying as fluidly as golden syrup. ‘Oh, no—I’m not falling for that one! He’d kill me if I told you!’
‘In bed, then?’ he quizzed mischievously.
Amber blushed like a thousand sunrises, and then could have kicked herself. ‘I’m not saying!’
Actually, they hadn’t been in bed at the time. They had been closeted in a sumptuous downstairs bathroom at a weekend house party which neither of them had really wanted to attend, hosted by the owner of one of the country’s best-selling glossy magazines.
Finn rarely did anything he didn’t want to do, and he didn’t like socialising much. For a start, he didn’t get the time. And when he did he liked to live a simple life, far away from the glamour of the industry in which he worked. But even Finn had been able to see the sense of attending such a party.
‘Shall we go?’ he had queried casually one morning as they had been driving in to work together.
‘Do we have to go?’ Amber had asked.
She still felt shy in the company of huge gatherings of strangers—probably because most people were captivated by Finn. He was the one they wanted to talk to, not her. For all her blue-eyed, golden-haired beauty, people still gravitated to the dark man with the streetwise eyes by her side. Sometimes, Amber felt like a dim satellite next to Finn’s bright, blazing planet.
Finn shook his head. ‘We don’t have to do anything, sweetheart—but it might be fun.’
‘Fun?’
‘Mmm. Show you the sort of life we could be living.’
As an exercise in comparison, it proved invaluable, showing Amber—if she had needed showing—that the glossy high life was not for her.
She was forced to put up with beautiful women flirting outrageously with Finn all evening, acting for all the world as though he had not brought a woman with him.
He saw her resigned expression across the table as she picked at her smoked salmon, and attracted her attention without too much trouble, leaning across the table to talk to her.
‘What’s up?’ he quizzed softly.
Amber shrugged. ‘Nothing.’
‘Something,’ he contradicted. ‘Is it the other women?’
She gave him a rueful smile. ‘It goes with the territory, Finn—you’re an extremely attractive man, and they just can’t seem to stop themselves!’
‘No,’ he agreed thoughtfully, his dark lashes framing the emerald brightness of his eyes. ‘But maybe you think I encourage them?’
‘No.’
‘Even subconsciously?’
She shook her head. ‘You don’t need to have legions of women fawning over you in order to boost your self-esteem—your ego is healthy enough without that!’ But maybe she ought to make more of an effort to enjoy herself in a similar way. ‘Go back to your fan club, Finn Fitzgerald,’ she told him softly. ‘I’m fine.’
She forced herself to chat to the man on her right—a wunderkind film director who, she soon discovered, had an irreverent sense of humour. Even though she was aware of the beauty busy pouting beside Finn, the wunderkind managed to keep her halfway entertained all the way through the impressive array of different courses. She was just unwrapping another chocolate mint when she glanced up to find Finn looking at her very intently.
She put the mint down, untasted, and leaned across the table towards him. ‘Is something wrong, Finn?’
‘Meet me downstairs,’ he urged her suddenly.
Amber blinked. ‘Why?’
He shook his head and his green eyes glittered. ‘No questions.’
‘Not even to ask where?’
He laughed. ‘Why don’t you hide in one of the shadowed recesses in the hallway,’ he suggested in a sexy murmur, ‘and let me come and find you?’
Her heart was beating very strongly with excitement as she rose to her feet, convinced that people must have guessed at their elaborate charade, but the wunderkind was now chatting to the woman on the other side of him, and no one else looked in her direction as she slipped away.
She went into one of the downstairs bathrooms, where she brushed her hair and washed her hands, and applied a faint lick of lipstick. She was just about to leave when Finn appeared in the doorway, a look of anticipation and excitement on his face as he came inside and silently closed and locked the door behind him.
‘Finn?’ Amber said breathlessly.
‘Shh!’ He took her into his arms and began to kiss her with a sweet determination which Amber knew could only mean one thing...
‘Finn!’ she protested breathily as he began to stroke her nipple absently with his thumb.
He eased her against the wall. ‘What?’ came the smoky reply.
‘You mustn’t.’
‘Why mustn’t I?’
‘Because...’ Amber’s head tipped back helplessly as he began to anoint her neck with kisses. ‘Because...’
‘Lost for words?’ he tormented sweetly, as his hand snaked possessively between her thighs, the silky fabric of her dress parting like magic for his fingers.
Lost, yes. Definitely. Lost in an inimitable sensual world of his making. She moulded her hands helplessly around his buttocks, feeling the hard ridge of his desire as he pressed willingly against her pelvis. ‘We... we... shouldn’t be doing this,’ she gulped, as she felt him ruck the silky fabric up her legs.
‘Why not?’
‘Because people are upstairs—’
‘So what?’
‘W-what...?’ Her voice trailed away with excitement as she heard the rasping of his zip. ‘What if they guess?’
‘Guess what?’
‘That you’re...you’re...’
‘I’m what?’ He stared straight into her face, seeing her eyes dilate with shock and excitement as he pushed the lace panel of her panties aside and slowly eased himself into her molten tightness.
‘Unscrupulous!’ she gasped, as he began to move against her.
‘And?’
‘Gorgeous,’ came her breathy admission, just as pleasure and excitement and guilt all combined to give her the most heart-stopping orgasm she could remember, and she knew from the sudden tension in his body that his was not far behind. She felt him shudder helplessly within the circle of her arms and she held him very tightly until the storm had subsided.
Afterwards they stood wrapped around each other, Amber’s skin all pink and glowing as she yawned lazily against his neck, and he tilted her head to face him.
‘I’ve been thinking—’ he began.
‘Oh, is that what you call it?’ she teased him, her voice all slurred and satiated.
‘About those women.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Oh, but it does, sweetheart. It does. And it bothers you, doesn’t it, Amber?’
She thought about it ‘Of course it bothers me,’ she admitted carefully. ‘I think it would bother most women—but I hope that I manage to conceal it well—’
‘Not from me, you don’t.’