Modern Romance December 2019 Books 5-8. Jane Porter

she said. ‘It’s just that this tune makes me sad.’

      ‘It’s good to let your feelings out,’ Lucas observed, ‘and I’m glad you feel you can do that with me.’

      ‘I do,’ she murmured.

      He must have given the guitarist a subtle directive, as the mood of the music had changed from unbearably affecting to a passionate, earthy rhythm. They fell into step and began to dance in a way that was far more intimate than before, and as the music climbed to a crescendo it seemed only one outcome was possible. Enjoying Lucas was dangerous because it was addictive. It made her want him in a way that was wholly inappropriate for someone hoping to make an impression on a client.

      ‘I should go.’ She pulled away while she still had the strength to do so.

      ‘You should stay,’ Lucas argued, and as the guitarist continued to weave his spell, Lucas brought her close enough for their two bodies to become one. She nestled her face against his chest as if she belonged there, as if there had never been any conflict between them, no gulf at all, as if this was how it should be, as if it was right and good.

      Dancing with Stacey was harder than he’d thought. Not because she couldn’t dance, but because she could; because she was intuitive and could second-guess his every move. Stacey was no longer a vulnerable tomboy on the brink of entering an adult world, but a woman who knew her own mind. She’d looked exhausted when she’d finished work, but there was no sign of tiredness now. If anything, she seemed energised as she moved to the music like a gypsy queen. Though she’d looked close to tears when the music had affected her, determination had since returned to her eyes. And fire. She wanted him, and she wasn’t afraid to let him know it.

      The ache in his groin was unsustainable. He was seeing her as she was, not as she had been. The urge to feel her naked body under his, to drown in her wildflower scent, and to fist her thick, silky hair as he buried his face in her neck, her breasts—

      ‘Why don’t you do it?’ she challenged softly.

      ‘Why don’t I do what?’

      ‘Kiss me?’ she stated bluntly.

      She was hyped up on success and impending exhaustion, which meant treating what she said with restraint. In the morning she’d be his friend’s little sister again, and would wake up with regrets. ‘I’ve got more sense—’

      He hadn’t expected such a violent reaction. Springing from his arms, she speared him with a glance, then stalked away. Halfway across the ballroom her stride faltered. Turning to face him, she surprised him even more with an expression that was pure invitation.

      Lucas was following and she knew that look on his face. It was the same look as when he chased down a ball in polo, or when a shot of him appeared in the broadsheets after he’d closed some mammoth deal. He was a man on a mission and she was that mission. But they’d meet on her terms and on a ground of her choosing. She’d waited so long for this that her mind was made up. If they only had one night together, she was going to make it the best night of her life. Her body was on fire. He’d done that. Her senses had never been keener. Where Lucas was concerned, she’d been honing them for years. Each erogenous zone she possessed had been teased into the highest state of awareness.

      Walking into the now-deserted office that she and the team had been using during the banquet, she left the door ajar. Luc walked in behind her and closed the door securely, before leaning back with a brooding expression on his dangerously shadowed face. ‘It’s been a long time,’ he observed in a drawl as lazy as treacle dripping off a spoon. ‘And now this?’

      She started to say something but thought better of it. No explanations. No excuses. No regrets. The tension in the room was rising. Their gazes were locked. There could be no turning back. The room was so quiet she could hear them breathing. It was as if, having waited all this time, they were balanced on the edge of an abyss, and when they plummeted over that edge they’d both be changed for ever.

      ‘It has been a long time,’ she agreed, starting to walk towards him. ‘Far too long, Lucas.’

      There was an answering spark in Luc’s eyes. She was no longer a teenager, or a red-faced intern crushed with embarrassment because she’d ruined his date’s dress, or a tomboy arguing the toss with her brother’s friend; she was a woman and he was a man. On that level, at least, there was no divide between them.

      ‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’ he said as she stood on tiptoe to cup his face.

      ‘In some ways yes, and in others no,’ she admitted truthfully. ‘Some might say I’m seducing you.’

      ‘Some?’ he queried. ‘I’m only interested in what you have to say.’

      Black eyes plumbed her soul. ‘I want you,’ she admitted, as if her whole life had been leading up to this moment. ‘For one night.’

      ‘One whole night,’ he said, staring down with a glint of humour colouring his black stare. ‘Half an hour ago you were determined to go to bed.’

      ‘I still want to go to bed,’ she whispered.

      Luc hummed as he glanced around the office. ‘But not here, surely?’

      ‘Why not?’ All the old doubts came crowding in. Was that a genuine comment, or was Lucas looking for a way out?

      ‘Because I don’t see a bed,’ he suggested dryly.

      He made her decision easy when he brushed her lips with his. ‘A nightcap?’ she suggested. ‘Somewhere a little more comfortable than this?’

      He didn’t answer right away. Stacey’s intention was clear. If he accepted there could only be one outcome. He’d resisted temptation where Stacey was concerned for so long he craved sex like a man craving water in a desert. But there was the added complication of his upcoming mountain event. Working side by side would bring them closer still and Stacey could never be some casual fling.

      His hunger combined with Stacey’s intention to move things forward fast, and in a very different direction, triumphed over any hesitation he might have had. There was nothing safe about entering into the type of situation she was proposing, since he was a man who would happily entertain risk on the polo field, and sometimes even in business, but who would never risk his heart.

      Without another word they headed for his penthouse with Stacey in the lead. If she’d been holding his hand, she’d be dragging him. Linking their fingers, he ushered her into his private elevator, which, conveniently, they found waiting on the ballroom level. The instant the doors slid open he backed her inside. Boxing her into a corner, he linked fingers with her other hand. Raising both hands above her head, he pinned her with the weight of his body so he could tease her lips and torment them both as the small steel cocoon rocketed skywards.

      Her hands felt wonderfully responsive in his as she made sounds in her throat like a kitten. There was nothing juvenile about her body. That was all woman.

      Teasing her lips until she parted them, he kissed her with the pent-up hunger of years. He’d seen this woman grow and endure, survive, and eventually thrive, so this kiss was more than a kiss, it was a rite of passage for both of them.

      She whimpered as he mapped her cheeks, her neck, her shoulders, and finally her breasts with his hands, and when he tormented her erect nipples with his thumbnails, she cried out, ‘Yes… Oh, yes, please…’

      ‘Soon,’ he promised as the elevator sighed to a halt.

      He swung her into his arms the moment the doors slid open. It felt so good. She felt so good. Warm and scented with the wildflower perfume he