truth was that she hadn’t been hungry from the moment she had sat down at the table. Her appetite had totally deserted her when Amir had slid into the chair directly opposite her, elbows resting on the fine white linen cloth, tanned hands linked, his chin resting on the top of them, deep-set eyes fixed intently on her face.
‘Help yourself,’ he’d told her softly.
He had watched everything she’d done. That dark gaze had followed each movement of her hands, flicking backwards and forwards as she’d taken a little from each serving dish, spooning it onto her plate, until she’d found herself shivering faintly under that eagle-eyed scrutiny.
‘Don’t you want anything?’ she had managed unevenly as a result of the ragged beating of her heart.
Amir had shaken his dark head.
‘Not hungry,’ he’d murmured. ‘At least, not for food.’
She knew exactly what he meant. It was there in the burn of his brilliant eyes, the undisguised sensuality of that searching gaze. Lydia risked a hasty glance into his stunning face and immediately regretted it as her heart lurched high up into her throat and the hand that held the knife shook betrayingly.
‘It—it’s very good. This chicken is delicious.’
‘Jamila is an excellent cook.’
He couldn’t have sounded less interested.
But he didn’t rush her. Instead he seemed content to wait and watch as she picked at the food, trying vainly to make some pretence of enthusiasm, struggling to swallow with a throat that had dried in the heat of her response.
In the end she pushed away her plate, unable to cope any longer.
‘You’ve barely eaten a thing.’
‘I wasn’t as hungry as I thought.’
He must know what he did to her. Must know that that fierce, unblinking gaze was tying her nerves into knots, making her heart race in double-quick time.
‘Not even some fruit?’
She looked like a startled deer, Amir reflected inwardly. Not scared exactly, just wary and uncertain. If he made one false move she could be up and gone. But he wasn’t going to make that mistake. He wasn’t going to rush things. In the airport he had thought that he’d only had minutes to win her over, make his mark on her consciousness; now it seemed that he had all night.
He could wait.
He reckoned she’d be well worth waiting for.
‘What about some of this?’
He reached out slowly, took a perfect peach from the large glass bowl. The contrast between the hard strength of his tanned hands and the velvety skin of the fruit was devastatingly sensual. She couldn’t drag her gaze away from the long, strong fingers as they curved around the ripe fruit, smoothing it softly.
In just that way would he touch her, she found herself thinking on a shiver. She could imagine how the caress would feel, the strong yet delicate tips of his hands trailing over sensitive nerves, awakening a stinging desire.
He didn’t even have to touch her! She could feel that reaction already. Her blood sang in her veins, her flesh so sensitised that even the soft brush of her clothes over it was a delicate agony. She knew what was in his mind. They both knew exactly where his thoughts were heading.
So why didn’t he say something? Why didn’t he act?
‘Try it…’
He had sliced off a thin sliver of the fruit and now he held it out to her, leaning forward to hold it level with her mouth so that all she had to do was open her lips. Like a child she did so and Amir dropped the juicy morsel onto her tongue. It was so ripe that it hardly needed to be chewed but slid down her throat so easily.
‘Like that?’
His smile did dangerous things to her heart, making it clench on a wave of response, her mouth drying instantly.
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