“Would you care for a drink?” he asked.
“Yes, please.” She wandered deeper into the great room. “This is a gorgeous place, Jack. Perfect for entertaining.”
“It’s also perfect for intimate dinners for two.” He handed her a glass of wine, the deep ruby color combining with the scent of berry, spice and herbs. “Thank you for bidding on me. I hope you’ll find the evening well worth what you paid.”
“I’m sure I will.” She touched her glass to his, the crystal singing melodically. She took a sip of the creamy wine and smiled in appreciation. “I don’t think I’ve tasted anything quite like it.”
“It’s a Spanish Termanthia I discovered a few years ago. A little exotic. But the spices in the Cantonese meal we’re having tonight pair well with it.”
“Sounds delicious.”
As it was. The meal was catered, the waitstaff gliding in and out so efficiently, she barely noticed their presence. The conversation never lagged. The diciest moment came when he asked what she did for a living.
“I’m a corporate investigator,” she answered, keeping her tone easy and off-the-cuff. “I specialize in background checks, illegal activities on the part of employees, corporate espionage. That sort of thing.”
“Interesting.” She’d captured his interest. “Do you also work the financial end of things?”
“Sometimes, though that’s not my primary area of expertise. We have a CPA to handle that aspect, though I often work in conjunction with him. If he suspects fraudulent billing on the part of a supplier, I might go undercover and look into it. But for the most part my job involves a lot of computer time and pushing paper around.” She helped herself to a final bite of stir-fry before deliberating nudging the plate aside. If she ate any more she risked exploding, but man, it had been good. “What about you? You own Carolina Shipping, right?”
“So, you did research me.”
She picked up her wineglass and swirled the contents. “Which sounds worse, that I researched you…or that I listened to local gossip?” She drank, returned the glass to the table and relaxed back in her chair. “It’s hard to go anywhere these days without hearing about you and the Kincaids.”
“So, you know who I am.”
“Yes. And I know about your connection to the Kincaid family.”
His mouth tightened. “Congratulations. You win the award for finding the most polite way of calling me Reginald Kincaid’s bastard I’ve ever heard. I’m surprised, knowing who I am, that you still came tonight.”
She lifted an eyebrow, decided to be blunt. “Was I supposed to cancel because you’re a bastard?”
“I wouldn’t have been surprised.”
She gave him a direct look. “The only way I would have canceled is if you’d been a bastard in actuality rather than in birth. Does that clarify the matter?”
“I believe it does.”
He fell silent while their plates were whisked away. Then he stood and held out his hand. Unresisting, she took it, allowed him to tug her from her chair. She stepped into his arms without any hesitation and lifted her face to his. Where before their kiss had been frantic and beyond passionate, now it was slow and leisurely. The flames were there, no question about that, but carefully banked toward a long, slow burn.
She could taste the wine they’d consumed, taste the delicate blend of spices that had flavored their dinner and now flavored their kiss. This time when his hands skimmed over her curves, they were thorough rather than desperate, inching the gauge of her need to steadily higher and higher levels. Aware that they were fast approaching the point of no return, she pulled back and stared up at him.
He wasn’t handsome in the conventional sense. His features were too hard for that, hacked into strong, ruthless lines by birth and circumstances that had toughened him through trial by fire. And yet, he appealed on some elemental level, male to female. He called to her, filled her with a longing she’d never experienced before, left her trembling with a feminine vulnerability that terrified her. He must have read some of her reaction because he cupped her face with a gentleness she’d never have guessed him capable of.
“I requested that they put dessert in the refrigerator for later,” he informed her. “If you’d prefer it now…?”
“Not a chance. I’m stuffed.” Then she keyed in on what he’d said and eyed him uncertainly. “Later?”
A small flame kindled in his gaze. “How does key-lime tart sound…for breakfast?”
She exhaled a long sigh of hesitation. “Complicated.”
“Is that a yes, or a no?”
She closed her eyes and faced the truth. Whatever was going on between them was long past complicated. Not that it changed anything. She looked at him. Wanted him. And felt her helpless surrender. “That’s a yes. In fact, it’s a hell, yes.”
* * * * *
ISBN: 9781459220621
Copyright © 2012 by Harlequin Books S.A.
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