The Dating Mr Darcy Trilogy. Katie Oliver

      “What’s that?” she asked, her voice husky.

      “That your aim with a wineglass is terrible.”

      She caught her lip between her teeth. “Well, as it happens, I have talents in other areas…”

      “Saving money isn’t one of them,” Rhys observed in a low voice as he brushed a strand of hair from her cheek.

      “No.” Electricity tingled through her at his touch.

      “And you don’t maintain your car,” he added as his eyes met hers.

      “No,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “But I did get the fuel pump replaced.”

      “And you’ve a bad habit of leaving things till the last minute,” he murmured, and bracketed her face gently with his hands, “important things.”

      “Important things?” she echoed, her eyes wide. “Like what?”

      “Like this.”

      His arms came around her and his mouth covered hers, and all thoughts of shirts and stains and fuel pumps fled. Desire thrummed through her with a sudden intensity that left her legs trembly and her thoughts scattered.

      Rhys pressed her closer as he deepened the kiss.

      Natalie clutched at his shirt, grabbing a handful of the soft cotton as desire, raw and sweet and powerful, overtook her.

      She’d been kissed before, of course she had. But this? This was entirely different.

      Every inch of her skin tingled and responded to his touch. The heat of his jeans-clad thighs against hers, the muscled length of his arms around her, his tongue seeking hers as they kissed – it set her thoughts whirling out of control. There was only his mouth on hers.

      “Natalie,” he breathed against her lips, lowering his hands to cup the curves of her bottom, “I’ve wanted you ever since that night at Alastair’s party.”

      “Have you?” She closed her eyes as his lips moved away from hers and sought out the sensitive skin behind her ear. “I thought you despised me. I thought…ooh, that’s nice…” She melted as he nibbled her earlobe.

      “I thought you were incredibly spoilt—” his hands slid up her waist “—but also incredibly attractive.”

      “I don’t know how you resisted me, then.”

      “I had a very long, very cold shower when I got home,” he growled, and pressed her hard against the wall and kissed her again, more insistently.

      Natalie was helpless to resist the onslaught of his tongue and hands and the hard, heated length of his body against hers. She wanted him with a strength that left her breathless with need.

      As Rhys tore his mouth away and began impatiently to unbutton her blouse, Natalie’s mobile shrilled from her jeans pocket. She groaned as he kissed and licked his way down her neck. “Ignore it,” she gasped, “it’ll stop in a second.”

      The ringing continued, insistent.

      “Shit!” Natalie exclaimed, exasperated, and pulled away. “I forgot to forward it to voicemail, it’ll just keep ringing. Let me just turn it off—”

      Rhys grunted something unintelligible and continued to leave heated kisses along her neck.

      She pushed him reluctantly away and pulled out her mobile to shut it off. When she saw the call screen, she froze.

      Ian Clarkson.

      “I’ve got to take this,” she told Rhys, “it’s important,” and she clapped the mobile to her ear. “Hello?” Her voice was unsteady, her stomach a knot of dread.

      “Natalie. I didn’t think you were going to answer.”

      She gave Rhys an apologetic smile and murmured, “It’s only Caro. Sorry, won’t be a minute.”

      He kissed the side of her mouth. “See that you’re not. And tell your sister I’m very put out with her right now.” He padded off to the sitting room to give her privacy.

      “What is it?” she demanded in a low voice when Rhys left.

      “You’re with Gordon, aren’t you?”

      “No,” she lied. She glanced at the sitting room door. “What do you want?”

      “You’re a crap liar, Natalie. Meet me for lunch tomorrow. I’ve reserved a table at Carrafini.”

      “But someone might see us there! It’s just down the street. Besides, I’m meeting with Phillip at eleven, I can’t possibly—”

      “Cancel it. Don’t put me off, Natalie. You didn’t return that fifty quid to the cash box yet, did you?”

      She closed her eyes. She’d forgotten completely about the damned money she’d taken.

      “I thought so. I’ll see you tomorrow, eleven-thirty. Don’t keep me waiting.” He rang off.

      With shaking hands Natalie slipped the mobile back in her pocket. Oh God, oh God…what to do?

      “Finished your call?” Rhys asked as he came back in.

      She nodded. “Caro needed help with her new DVR player.”

      He came behind her and took her in his arms. His breath was warm as he nuzzled her neck. “Stay tonight, Natalie.”

      She closed her eyes as she imagined sharing Rhys’s bed. She felt safe in his arms, all her worries about Ian forgotten. She longed to spend tonight with him, God, yes…but Ian Clarkson had ruined the moment with his call.

      “I can’t,” she said, and pulled away regretfully. “Nor can you. Tomorrow’s Monday, after all. Work.”

      “Ah, yes, work.” He kissed her again, his mouth lingering on hers. “We’ve a lot to do tomorrow.” Rhys frowned. “Which reminds me…I meant to ask you something.”

      She looked at him inquiringly. “Oh?”

      His eyes met hers. “I had a drink in the Connaught the other night. I saw you at a table with Ian Clarkson. You had your heads together, looked very serious.”

      Her thoughts raced. “We were discussing the website. He was put out that you tore it apart,” she added lightly.

      “Indeed.” Rhys’s eyes narrowed. “Odd that he wanted to discuss it with you, and over drinks, don’t you think?”

      “He…wanted an outside opinion. And he didn’t want any interruptions.”

      “Natalie, you’re a crap liar. Why were you with Clarkson? He’s a slimy bastard. And he’s married to your best friend.”

      “I told you, we were talking about the website—”

      “That’s bollocks and we both know it,” he cut in. “I saw him touch you, I saw you flinch. What’s going on? What’s he got on you? Tell me.”

      Her legs were unsteady as she walked across the kitchen to the hallway. “Got on me? Nothing! You’re imagining things.”

      “Natalie, I want to help you, but I can’t unless you tell me the truth—”

      “There’s nothing to tell! Tell Jamie thanks for dinner. It was really good, and I-I’ll see you tomorrow.”

      She grabbed her handbag and hurried down the stairs as Rhys stormed after her.

      “That was him just now, wasn’t it?” he demanded as she reached the front door. “It was Ian.”

      “Rhys, please, let it go,” Natalie begged. “I can’t…it’s not—” She stopped, overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. “I have to go.” And she flung the door open and fled.