He was hardly aware of how sensual his action had been until he felt the heat of her tears against the pad of his thumb.
Fortunately, at this hour of an October afternoon, the subdued lights in the lounge created an oasis of intimacy around their table, and no one had seen what he’d done.
Or, perhaps, not so fortunately, thought Dominic, hastily dragging his hand away. But not before her eyes had met his in a look of total understanding.
And he knew that she knew that for a brief moment of madness he had wanted her. Wholly and completely. He’d wanted to penetrate the burning core of her and assuage the incredible hard-on he’d developed in the melting heart of her oh-so-tempting body.
Christ and all His saints!
Unable to sit still with such thoughts for company, Dominic got abruptly to his feet. He buttoned his jacket over the revealing bulge in his trousers, hoping against hope that she hadn’t seen it. For pity’s sake, what in hell was wrong with him?
The waitress, ever-vigilant, came to see if there was anything else she could get him. Yeah, thought Dominic grimly, a stiff whisky. But he was driving, so he shook his head.
‘Just the bill,’ he said, pulling out his wallet and handing over a couple of twenties. ‘Keep the change,’ he added, as she started to protest it was too much.
Then, turning back to Cleo, he said, ‘If you’re ready, I’ll take you home.’
Cleo swallowed, her tears evaporating as she became aware, in some shameful corner of her mind, that she was to blame for his sudden agitation. She wasn’t proud of her reaction, but she was only human, after all. And she couldn’t deny the warm feeling that was swelling inside her.
Whether he liked it or not, Dominic wasn’t indifferent to her.
But she couldn’t—shouldn’t—allow it to go on.
‘I’ll get the bus,’ she said, making a thing of pouring herself more coffee. ‘I’m not finished. Thank you all the same.’
She could hear Dominic breathing as he stood beside her. And the very fact that she could hear his infuriated response should have warned her she was treading on thin ice.
But she certainly wasn’t prepared for him to bend down and pour the contents of her cup into the coffee pot. Then, slamming the cup back onto the saucer, he said, ‘You’re finished. Let’s go.’
The waitress was still hovering and Cleo knew she couldn’t cause a scene. Apart from anything else, she might want to visit the hotel again, whereas Dominic, she was sure, was never likely to darken its doors again.
Gathering her bag, she forced a smile for the waitress’s benefit, and then, pressing her lips together, preceded Dominic from the room.
They crossed the reception hall in silence, but when they emerged into the damp evening air Cleo stopped dead in her tracks.
‘I meant what I said,’ she declared stiffly. ‘I would prefer to get the bus.’
‘And I’ve said I’ll take you home,’ said Dominic, brooking no argument. His hand in the small of her back was anything but romantic. ‘Move, Cleo. You know where I parked.’
She decided there was no point in fighting with him. Besides, the buses were usually full at this hour of the evening, and why look a gift horse in the mouth? If he insisted on driving her home, why not let him? It was obvious from his expression that he had nothing else on his mind.
Dominic, meanwhile, was struggling to come to terms with what had happened in the bar. For goodness’ sake, what was there about Cleo Novak that caused every sexual pheromone in his body to go on high alert?
It was pathetic, he thought irritably. He wasn’t a kid to get a hard-on every time a beautiful woman flirted with him.
But, as they neared the SUV and he used the remote to unlock the doors, he had to admit she intrigued him. Dammit, when had the touch of a woman’s skin ever had that effect on him?
Never.
Cleo didn’t wait for him to open the door for her. Sliding inside, she settled her bag on her lap, and pressed her knees tightly together. But a pulse was palpitating insistently inside her head and it was mirrored by the sensual heat she could feel between her legs.
Drawing a breath, she tried to concentrate on the car park outside the windows of the vehicle. Several people were leaving as they were, but others were just arriving.
Staff, maybe, she reflected, aware that she didn’t really care. She just wanted to be home, safe inside the locked door of the apartment. She didn’t want to think about Dominic, or her grandfather, or how she felt about the couple she’d always believed were her parents. She just wanted to get into bed and bury her head under the covers.
‘I assume this road will take us to Notting Hill,’ Dominic said after a moment, and she was forced to pay attention to her surroundings.
‘Yes,’ she muttered. ‘But you can drop me in Cheyney Walk, if you like.’
‘I think I can find Minster Court,’ he said coolly and she remembered that he’d been there before. ‘You’d better give me your cellphone number. If you do intend to obey your grandfather’s wishes and come to San Clemente, there are arrangements to be made, right?’
Cleo’s throat dried. Of course. They expected her to go to San Clemente. But how could she do that? She didn’t even know where it was.
She’d been silent for too long, and with a harsh exclamation Dominic said, ‘About what happened at the pub…’
‘Your ruining my coffee, you mean?’ she countered, grateful for the reprieve, but he wasn’t amused by her attempt at distraction.
‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘Forget about the damn coffee. You know what I’m talking about.’
‘Do I?’
‘Yes.’ His strong fingers tightened on the wheel and she couldn’t help wondering how it would feel to have those long fingers gripping her just as tightly. ‘It was a mistake, right? I never should have touched you. And I want you to know, it’ll never happen again.’
‘All right.’
Cleo made her voice sound indifferent and he cast a frustrated glance in her direction.
‘I mean it,’ he persisted. ‘I want you to know, I’m not that kind of man.’
‘But you think I’m that kind of woman, hmm?’ she suggested contemptuously, and he groaned.
‘Of course not—’
‘Well, forget it—Dominic. You’re my brother, remember?’
Dominic wished to hell he were her brother. Her real brother, that was. Then he wouldn’t be having this crisis of conscience.
‘I haven’t forgotten.’ His tone was carefully controlled. ‘Now, do you have that number? By my estimation, we should leave within the week. Do you have a passport?’
Cleo caught her breath. ‘I can’t leave within a week,’ she protested. ‘I have a job.’
‘Ask for leave of absence,’ said Dominic impatiently. ‘Tell them it’s a family emergency.’
Cleo gasped. ‘Like they’re going to believe that.’
‘Why not?’
‘Why do you think? They know I just…buried…my parents six months ago.’
Dominic felt a reluctant sense of compassion. ‘Well, I guess you’re going to have to tell them the truth,’ he murmured drily, and she gave him an indignant look.
‘I can’t do that.’ She turned her head