One Secret Night. Yvonne Lindsay

simply, “which definitely has its advantages.”

      Ethan smiled back at her, and she knew that in some way, even if it was small, he probably envied her freedom. Most people did, but without realizing that it came with its own personal cost at the same time. Ethan clearly had a network of people to help and support him, while Isobel was very accustomed to being on her own.

      She took advantage of the companionable silence between them to study him some more. In the subdued lighting of the restaurant, his lean features were all shadows and light. His nose a long straight patrician blade, his upper lip narrow but with a perfect bow to it, the lower lip fuller, enticing. His hair was worn short and controlled but she could detect the faintest of hints of curl in it and she wondered what he’d look like if he let it grow out a bit more, let himself look a little less disciplined and a lot more wild. Her fingers itched to reach for her camera in her pack and to shoot off a series of pictures of him.

      The tingle that had started in her body earlier ramped up a notch, sending swirls of heat spooling through her belly and lower. The strong shadow on his jaw showed he was probably a two-shaves-a-day man, but somehow she knew she liked him better like this. Less polished, more primal. She squeezed her thighs together as a surge of desire arrowed direct to her core, and in that moment Isobel knew she was probably going to sleep with Ethan whatever-his-last-name-was tonight and, more, that she wanted to—very, very much.

      Two

      The food was delicious and she was glad she’d left Ethan to make their selections. She slipped up a little sauce from the edge of her plate with a finger and licked it off, her eyes closing briefly to enjoy the blissful flavor just that bit longer. When she opened them again, she caught Ethan staring at her. That earlier thrill of desire jolted through her again and she saw a flare of reciprocal interest light in his eyes.

      What would he be like as a lover? she wondered as she broke eye contact and reached for her wineglass. He wasn’t her usual type, which was probably a male version of herself—free-spirited, unfettered, casual. No, Ethan was definitely different. He exuded stability and strength, not to mention an unfair dose of sex appeal, and she found the combination fiercely compelling.

      “Tell me about your travels,” he said, leaning forward to top up her wineglass with a little more of the very fine merlot they’d enjoyed with their meal.

      So far they’d kept their conversation very general and superficial. So much so that neither of them really knew much about the other. Isobel preferred it that way. She didn’t like to share too much of herself—at least not more than she was prepared to. She found so many people were critical of her attempts to expose some of the better-kept secrets regarding atrocities against children and families overseas. It was safer, she’d found, to be judicious with the information she shared.

      She found it easy to fill the next hour with flip conversation of some of the funnier exploits she’d experienced. Ethan leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily at her recitation of her reaction to a giant centipede coming out of the hole in the ground she’d been using as a toilet during a trip through Nepal. Her own lips turned up in response to his unfettered joy. He had a great laugh, she decided. She liked it when a man could really give in to mirth. It was, in her mind, a good indicator of just how much he’d give in to anything else he was passionate about. Right now, she hoped that was her.

      “Can’t say I have anything in my experience to equal or better that,” he said through his laughter. “And none of that puts you off or makes you want to take a more mainstream route?”

      “No.” She shook her head. “You don’t really see the world as other people are forced to live it when you do that.”

      “Interesting choice of words.”

      “What?”

      “Forced. Aren’t most people living the life of their choice?”

      She gave him a pitying smile. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

      “I believe it’s up to each individual to choose his own path.”

      “In a perfect world, maybe. Not everyone has the privilege of a perfect world.”

      Ethan considered her words before responding. “You’re right. I’m being too general and thinking only in terms of here and my life, my choices.” His face suddenly became serious and she felt his withdrawal as if it were a physical thing when in reality, he was no farther away from her than he’d been two seconds ago. “Even I don’t have control over everything in my world.”

      He said it so bleakly, Isobel wondered for a moment what had happened to him that was so terrible. She reached across the table, pressing her fingertips lightly on the back of his hand where it rested on the pristine white tablecloth.

      “I’m sorry,” she said simply.

      “Why sorry?”

      “You strike me as the kind of guy who likes to be in charge of what happens.”

      “Yeah, I am,” he admitted with a rueful smile. “And at least I can be in charge of how I react to what happens, right?”

      They turned their conversation to more general topics after that, Isobel wringing more laughter from Ethan and reveling in the fact that she could. Seeing that glimpse of vulnerability in him had only made him even more attractive to her. It took a strong man to admit his weaknesses and she was hardwired to appreciate a strong man.

      They’d been lingering over their coffee and dessert when she saw Ethan look at his watch. Around them, the restaurant had all but emptied.

      “It’s getting late,” Ethan said. “Is there anywhere I can drop you off?”

      “Oh, I’ll be fine. I’ll just check into the nearest hostel or hotel,” she answered blithely, though she was admittedly a little sorry that their evening was drawing to a close.

      The attraction she’d felt toward him all through the meal had only sharpened as she’d spent more time with him, and she wondered if perhaps he was too much of a gentleman to expect their evening together to lead to anything more. As much as she respected honor in a man, she wasn’t feeling particularly honorable herself right now.

      “You haven’t booked anywhere?”

      “No, I just flew in this afternoon. But it’s no problem. There are a few places within walking distance of here, aren’t there?” She could see Ethan bristle at the thought and she couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled from her at the expression on his face. “I can look after myself, you know.”

      “Like you did back at the pub?”

      “I would have shaken him off eventually.”

      “Yes, it certainly looked that way.” His delicious mouth firmed into a straight line.

      “Hey, it’s not a problem. I can get the restaurant to call me a cab if you’re that worried. I only need a place for a night, anyway.”

      One night? One night of no questions, no answers. No recriminations. He would probably never see her again. One night of freedom, of passion. Ethan’s mind expanded on the idea with the velocity of bush fire and with more than a hint of its searing heat, as well. He spoke before he could overthink the situation and talk himself out of the idea that had bloomed in his mind. If she went for it, all well and good. If not, no harm, no foul.

      “Why not stay with me? I mean, I have an apartment here in the city. There’s more than enough room for you, as well.”

      To his surprise her smile widened.

      “I’d like that.” She hesitated a moment before continuing. “I’d like to stay with you tonight.”

      A knot of tension coiled tight in his gut. Did she mean what he thought she meant or had his simmering libido simply heard what it wanted to hear? In his whole life he’d never had a one-night stand—had considered them to be the mark of a person with little control, and