But that was the trouble, he was not like any other man she had ever known, she thought ruefully, casting him a sidelong glance from beneath the thick screen of her lashes. How was it, she mused, that as a young girl she had had a crush on him and was brutally cured of the illusion by the man himself? For years she thought she hated him and yet now one day in his company and all she saw was a dominant, attractive male who turned her bones to jelly.
Feeling vulnerable in a man’s presence for the first time in years, she was not sure she trusted the feeling, and common sense told her to thank Nick for the meal and leave. With that in mind she drained her coffee-cup and replaced it on the table, and, turning slightly, she glanced at his face. He was looking down at her, his mouth a hard, taut line, and for a moment Liza felt a slight shiver of fear, or was it a shiver of sensual anticipation? She was not sure which, and quickly fixed her gaze somewhere over his left shoulder and before she could weaken.
‘Thank you for a lovely evening, Nick. But I think it is time I got back to my hotel.’ She made to rise, only to find a large restraining hand on her forearm.
‘Please join me in a brandy at least,’ Nick said softly, and placed his cup on the table, his dark gaze holding her own, and his thumb caressing the underside of her arm to devastating effect.
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