Under the Spaniard's Lock and Key. Kim Lawrence

It was a long time since he had wanted a woman this much, let alone a woman that was out of bounds…Maybe, he mused, that was the attraction…the forbidden fruit?

      The fingers that tightened on her arm made her wince. He murmured an apology.

      She couldn’t see his expression; his heavy eyelids were lowered, leaving only a glittering slit of silver.

      For a second she thought he wasn’t going to take her hand, then he did, holding it a moment too long, giving time for the electrical tingle under her skin to morph into a shameful throb of awareness that clutched low like a fist in her belly.

      Then his brown fingers tightened slightly before falling away.

      She stayed motionless her eyes meshed with his compelling silver eyes. His gaze was strangely emotionless considering the electrical charge that shimmered in the air between them—or did it?

      She brought her lashes down in an ebony protective screen and sucked in a shaky breath. She clearly needed to get her overactive imagination in line. It made no sense that the brush of a stranger’s fingers could…She rubbed her hand against her thigh and dismissed the moment from her mind.

      The sexual charge in the air did not diminish even though they were no longer touching.

      ‘You are not well enough to walk.’ It was not a lie; she looked pale and shaken.

      ‘I’m fine. I just missed lunch and if I don’t hurry I shall miss the paella evening.’ Authentic, she reminded herself as she tried to work up enthusiasm for the prospect—the authentic flamenco evening had involved dancers who hailed from Manchester, though in their defence they had been very good.

      ‘I know where they do the best paella.’

      ‘How nice.’

      He watched the appearance of the polite smile that was starting to aggravate him and thought about doing something that would wipe it off her face.

      ‘It would be nicer if I had company…would you come share some paella with me?’