‘I can recommend the filet mignon.’ His lips twitched. ‘The chef is a genius.’
He lounged back in his seat, enjoying the view of the slight flush at the base of her throat. What would that skin taste like? Better than any filet mignon—he’d bet his beloved helicopter on that.
She sniffed, her eyes trained on the menu. ‘I’m a vegetarian.’
Damn. It irked him that he knew so little about her, an inconvenience he planned to rectify as soon as possible.
Why wait?
‘Tell me something about yourself. Something I couldn’t know from reading your business profile.’ He stretched his legs out under the table, searching for hers.
She stared. ‘Why?’
Her fingers clenched around the base of her wine glass. His probing had clearly raised her hackles.
He sipped his wine, enjoying her rising colour. ‘Because we’re not animals, Olivia. Our sexual chemistry is intense, but that doesn’t mean we can’t talk in between fucking. Your word, by the way.’
She shrugged, the pulse at her neck fluttering again, her smile sweet. ‘I just did. I don’t eat meat.’
Touché. Bewitching. He pressed his lips together.
‘Tell me something about you,’ she said. ‘Something none of the women you’ve impressed has ever asked you.’
That, right there, was what intrigued him so much. She was so unexpected, unpredictable. She didn’t give a damn about impressing him in return. She wasn’t interested in learning his preferences so she could mould herself into what she thought would be his perfect woman.
Fine. He could be blunt too.
‘No one’s ever asked me to watch them pleasure themselves before.’
A hint of pink touched her cheekbones, but her stare remained bold, direct, captivating.
‘Poor you.’ She glanced back at menu, as if they’d discussed the weather.
Alex bit back his delight as the waiter arrived to take their order.
When they were alone again, she said, ‘Why am I here? I appreciate the world-class dining experience, but you asked me to do a job—not to drink wine and eat truffle-infused mushrooms.’
He fought a smile. She cut straight to the chase, and her caustic turn of phrase… Did she know how much she turned him on?
‘I did. A job you accepted with one mutually satisfying condition.’
The colour in her cheeks heightened. ‘A job I could do perfectly adequately from my hotel room or even from New York.’ Her eyes hardened.
He ran his index and middle fingers along his lower lip, studying her until she shifted in her seat, revealing an alluring glimpse of pert breasts in the V of her blouse.
Last night he’d seen dark nipples through the lace of her bra. He wanted her naked, to taste those nipples, to nibble, scrape and suck until she squirmed and writhed and perhaps even came. Would she be that responsive? Instinct told him yes.
He hardened his own stare. ‘I thought we’d established the parameters of our working relationship?’
A little reminder of their deal. After all, if she intended to torture him as she had last night he’d push her boundaries in return. Quid pro quo.
At her silent scrutiny, he continued. ‘I want you to fully experience what I have in mind for Able-Active. As I said this morning, you can’t do that in an office.’
She wasn’t buying it—was still looking at him as if he’d sprouted a second head.
‘You need to experience the thrill. If the kids can do it, we can, right? You said yourself that the Able-Active headquarters is completely uninspiring.’
And he wanted to get her out of those elegant suits in more ways than one.
‘What exactly will it involve?’
Wary eyes, darker than midnight.
He shrugged. ‘Mountain biking, boating, kayaking, abseiling. You name it.’
Her brow pinched. ‘Why? I don’t need to hurl myself from a climbing wall to understand the concept.’
He clenched his jaw, pinning her with his stare. ‘You agreed to stay a week. I agreed to your terms. Are you backing out of our deal?’
Fuck, had he pushed too hard? Was this over before it had begun?
She flushed, her eyes dipping to the crystal glassware. ‘No. But I won’t be blindsided either. If you expect me to participate I’ll need advance warning.’
‘Why? Spontaneity is more rewarding.’
As last night had proved. He hadn’t intended to declare his hand. But the results…
A head-shake. Decisive and unyielding. ‘Maybe for you.’ Her chin lifted as she glared him down. ‘I like to plan.’
‘Control?’ His cock stirred again, remembering the last time she’d taken the lead.
A staring contest ensued, and the space between them sparked with tension. He was half tempted to cancel the food they’d ordered, clear the restaurant and hope her next demand would be that he fuck her on this very table, with the one-thousand-thread-count tablecloth clutched in her elegant hands as she came around him.
As if she knew his filthy thoughts she traced said tablecloth with her index finger. ‘Let’s say I do don a cycle helmet or a lifejacket. Couldn’t we do all that in London? Why here?’
He sobered, his lips turning in while he chose his next words. ‘I live here.’ He flicked his head in the direction of the main house he’d pointed out from the helicopter. ‘When I’m not in the city.’
He glanced down to where he rubbed the edge of his thick linen napkin between his thumb and forefinger, the hair rising at his nape as it always did when he was this close to his biggest vulnerability. Well, she’d wanted to know something about him no one else did.
‘I wanted you to see this place.’ When he looked up, he had her full attention. ‘I have bigger plans for the charity. Bigger than I outlined to you today.’
A small nod, encouraging him to continue.
‘Eventually I’d like Able-Active to have an employment arm. The statistics on unemployment in the disabled population are depressing.’
He shifted in his chair, forcing his voice to remain even, although this topic of conversation usually led to gut-wrenching impotence.
‘I’d like the winery here, the hotel, perhaps even Lancaster IT, to broaden its sphere. Improve on its equal opportunities policies, perhaps even become a world leader in reducing those unemployment statistics.’
It would be a start, at least.
Serious, with a small frown scrunching her forehead and her eyes thoughtful, she said, ‘Why?’
Her neck flushed, as if her own candour had shocked her.
‘Why what?’
She took another sip of wine, gave a small shrug. ‘I get it. You want your company to have a social conscience.’
His jaw tensed. ‘My company does have a social conscience.’
‘Sorry. That sounded…flippant of me. What I mean is, why does it matter to you so much? I would have thought you’re busy enough running Lancaster IT and the charity. What is it that motivates you?’
Wasn’t that