‘You should ask for permission before you start playing with a man’s toys,’ said a chocolate-smooth voice from behind her. ‘They might not be harmless.’
Luke. He of the steady hands, stupendous body, and small brain.
‘What would happen if I cut this wire here?’ she asked.
‘Nothing.’
‘What about this one?’
‘Cut that one and life gets interesting,’ he said. ‘Jake said you and he were just friends.’
‘Aw-w-w. You’re still concerned about poaching? Aren’t you sweet?’ Best to turn and face danger head on—the better to know when to run. Madeline hadn’t learned that in any fancy Swiss finishing school but the lesson had stood her in excellent stead over the years nonetheless. She braced herself as she turned her head to look at him in an attempt to lessen the impact of that clear golden gaze. ‘But Jake’s right. I consider him a friend. I’m glad to hear that he considers me one.’
‘You didn’t know that he thinks of you as a friend?’ asked Luke with the lift of an eyebrow.
‘Your brother’s not an easy man to read,’ she offered with a slight smile. Madeline pitied the woman who set her sights on Jacob Bennett, she really did. ‘He doles his smiles and his welcomes out sparingly. You, on the other hand, don’t.’
‘Is this a bad thing?’ The smile Luke bestowed on her held more than its share of wicked charm.
‘For you? No.’ For the women on the receiving end of those easy smiles, she thought it might be. Time to stop gazing at that arresting face and concentrate on something else, decided Madeline. Like the stretch of a grey T-shirt over a chest wide and muscled. Like the play of veins from his elbows to his wrists as he leaned in beside her, his forearms on the table and his attention on the toaster.
Luke’s shoulder brushed hers, ever so briefly, and ever so deliberately. No way did this man not know where every millimetre of his was at any given time. He turned his head towards her and his gaze skated over her face and came to rest on her mouth with a focus that made Madeline’s breath hitch somewhere in her throat and stay there.
Madeline’s gaze slid helplessly to the sensual curve of his lips. Passion abundant, yet underscored by a firmness that hinted at iron control when Luke wanted control. Laughter in the grooves around the edges of those lips.
‘Seen enough?’ he murmured, and she who never blushed felt warmth creep up her neck and along her cheeks.
‘I think so.’ Cursing his appeal and her blatant reaction to it, Madeline turned her attention back to the apparatus on the table. ‘Where were we?’
‘No idea,’ he said. ‘But I think we should get it over with. It’d speed things up and, seeing as I’m only here for a week…’
‘Get what over with?’
‘Our first kiss.’ They were side by side, shoulder to shoulder, as he picked up the tiny wire cutters and carefully turned the detonator over to reveal another half a dozen wires. ‘One of them will disable the detonator without jamming the toaster. Question is, which one?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You want to hazard a guess?’
‘Not particularly,’ she said. ‘I like to know what I’m doing—and why—before I do it. Take kissing you, for example.’
‘Good example,’ he said.
‘Happens I do know my way around a man’s mouth,’ she murmured. ‘Thing is, I’m not altogether sure why I’d want to kiss a man who despises me.’ She needed to see his face for this next question. She needed to think she wouldn’t get lost when she looked his way. ‘Is it the money you despise or the way I acquired it?’
‘Maybe you didn’t marry for money,’ he said, his eyes not leaving her face as he threw down his own question. ‘Maybe you loved your late husband.’
Maddy stared into those warm tiger eyes for a very long time, wishing her answer could have been different. Wishing she could have said yes, yes, she had. But the one thing Madeline had never been was a liar and she didn’t intend to start now, no matter how strong the temptation. ‘I married William Delacourte for security and for the lifestyle he could give me. He was a good man. I respected him and never cheated on him. But if you’re asking me whether I loved him when I married him the answer is no.’
Luke Bennett didn’t like that answer. She could see questions in his eyes—so many questions she didn’t know how to answer—and behind the questions, condemnation.
‘Did you sleep with him?’ he asked.
‘Have you been in love with every woman you’ve ever slept with?’ she answered coolly.
‘No,’ he answered, equally cool. ‘Did he know you didn’t love him?’
‘Yes.’
‘Poor bastard,’ murmured Luke. But he didn’t move away, and neither did she.
‘Any more questions?’ she said.
‘Yeah.’ Luke’s lips twisted into a wry smile as his eyes grew intent. He still had his elbows resting on the Formica table. So did Madeline. But their faces were close, close enough that it would only take the tilt of her head and a slight forward movement to make their mouths meet. ‘Are you sure you don’t want that kiss?’
‘Now why would I want to kiss you,’ she murmured, ‘when you don’t even like me?’
‘Beats me,’ he said. ‘Do it anyway.’
He had the knack of making Maddy want things she shouldn’t. Like lips against hers, firm and knowing. Like being cradled in the arms of a warrior who could make her see only the moment, and to hell with the life choices that surrounded it. How did one approach desire when they weren’t intending to exploit it? Maddy didn’t know.
She wanted to know.
With her elbows still firmly resting on the table, Madeline eased closer and set her mouth to Luke’s.
She didn’t rush to taste him, content for the moment with the feel of firm lips barely touching hers. Such fleeting contact. So blindingly perfect. Luke’s scent wrapped around her and the heat in him shuddered through her as she closed her eyes and touched the tip of her tongue to that firm upper lip the better to taste him.
He didn’t rush her. He simply let her play at exploring his lips, the shape and texture of them. A man of patience and timing, Luke Bennett, as finally, when she was just about to pull back, he turned his body towards her, and opened the way to deeper exploration. The slide of his tongue against hers, savouring and sensual. The hitch of his breath as she savoured him in turn. Then a ragged curse as his hand came up to sink into her hair and cradle the back of her head as he deepened the kiss.
Focused, so utterly focused on the moment and on her. Reckless with what he gave away. Passion to savour, passion to burn, as reality faded away beneath the radiance of this man making love to her mouth.
‘How old were you?’ Luke murmured as his lips finally left hers, rendering her bereft and craving more of him. More kisses, more contact, more pleasure. ‘How old were you when you married him, Maddy? Did you even know what you were giving up?’
‘Old enough.’ She kissed him one last time, slow and deep, craving oblivion. Wishing she could be what this man so obviously wanted her to be. Young. Naive. Innocent. But she’d never been any of those things, she’d never had the luxury, and he needed to know and accept that.
If he could.
Slowly, reluctantly, Madeline pulled out of the kiss and put some distance between them. The table for starters. And then the