‘That was beautiful,’ Sophie murmured. ‘There’s nothing quite like a tropical sun sliding into the water.’
‘And you want to leave it all behind for cold, grey London smog.’
‘It’s not all smog.’ She allowed the waiter to lay a napkin across her lap and admitted, ‘But I am going to miss the tropics.’
‘So what’s at the top of your London to-do list?’
‘All the traditional must-see places. But especially the Victoria Memorial in front of Buckingham Palace. I had a painting of it when I was a little girl. It was so whimsical and caught my imagination. You’ve been to London, I suppose.’
‘No. Not yet. Don’t even have a passport.’
‘Oh?’ Then she remembered he’d been guardian to his sisters his entire adult life, had focused on responsibility rather than his own pleasures, and nodded. ‘You’ll have to visit sometime.’
His eyes lingered on hers. ‘Maybe I will.’
Confusion stole through her and she turned away and said, ‘I can’t wait to see that statue with its gold and marble and magical winged beings. And Queen Victoria in the midst of it all. I’ll stand there and know that I’ve finally achieved my goal.’
She reached for her topped-up glass and took a liberal gulp while she studied the thin strip of land between water and fading aquamarine sky. The conical and distinctive volcanic shape of the distant Glasshouse Mountains on the horizon.
For the first time since she’d met Jared, she questioned her motivation for leaving. Did she have to leave everyone she knew and travel to the other side of the world for a change in scenery?
No. But she focused on what her head was telling her, not what her heart and emotions were saying. She wanted this trip. She’d wanted it for as long as she could remember. If she didn’t go, she’d regret it.
And she wasn’t going to change anything for a man. Not even a man she was falling for. Especially not for a man she was falling for. Going to the UK was the best thing she could do. For herself. And for Jared.
The main course arrived. Sophie chose salmon fillets on a bed of mashed potato with coriander, ginger and lime dressing, served with asparagus spears. Jared enjoyed a rare fillet steak with mushroom sauce and a selection of vegetables. It was a magnificent feast after the simple budget meals she’d been living on.
They ate for several minutes without talking. Just listening to the boat’s motor, the swish of water against the hull.
‘What about the people?’ Jared said, scraping his fork over the bottom of his plate.
‘People?’
‘You said you’d miss the tropical climate.’
‘Oh, yes, I’ll miss the people too. I’ve got friends here.’ She slid the last mouthful of salmon between her lips while she watched Jared and found she couldn’t read his eyes now, at all. No matter how gorgeous he was or how much he was coming to mean to her… For the first time, she wavered. Then she pushed it away and said, ‘But I’m not changing my mind.’
He watched her a moment, then set his cutlery on his empty plate, pushed it aside and leaned close so that his eyes reflected hers in the flickering candlelight. ‘In that case we’ll have to make the most of the time we have left.’ His tone was low, rough and full of promise. And hypnotic. Like his gaze.
Everything around them seemed to fade out until all she was aware of was his intensity. From his eyes with their dark-rimmed irises that seemed to draw her into their depths, to the electric, almost mesmerising touch of his hand as it stroked her knuckles.
Drowning. ‘Yes. Yes, we will.’
Her answer seemed to shake off the dreamy well they found themselves in and the look he gave her could only be interpreted as sinful determination. ‘We’ll return to the marina,’ he said, gesturing the waiter hovering nearby over. ‘Is that okay with you?’
‘Very okay.’
There was still time to eat the dessert—fresh mango vanilla ice cream on an individual pavlova base—and enjoy a coffee before the boat pulled up alongside its berth.
Jared had plans for the rest of the evening. On the outside he maintained the cool, calm business façade he’d worn since this morning, but inside he was a bundle of firelighters ready for that first strike of the match. The way he’d been all day. The way he’d been every day since Sophie Buchanan had walked into his office.
He couldn’t wait to feel her soft, summer-scented flesh against his again. Soon, very soon, he’d be burying himself inside her hot slippery centre. Easing the ache. Satisfying his need. Again and again, over and over, until he’d sated this all-consuming lust…