tried to switch her thoughts away from him as they drove down busy roads through the heart of London. It was a magical city at night, she thought idly, with all the beautiful buildings illuminated by a warm orange glow against the velvet darkness of the sky.
Marc was pulling up outside her apartment in Kensington before she realised that he had driven her straight to her door without having to ask where she lived.
She turned to him with a frown. ‘How did you know my address?’
‘Garth told me before he left.’
‘Oh, I see.’
Marc turned off the engine and the sudden silence seemed heavy and oppressive. The only sound that filled Sabrina’s ears was the wild thud of her heartbeats.
‘Well, thank you for the lift home,’ she said a trifle breathlessly, reaching for the door-handle.
‘Aren’t you going to invite me in for coffee?’ he asked silkily.
She hesitated, taken back by the request. ‘Well, I...yes—yes, of course.’ Hell, she was babbling like a teenager. What on earth was wrong with her?
He stood behind her as she opened her front door and she was annoyed to find that her hand shook as she tried to get the key in the lock.
‘Do you need some help?’
His drily amused voice flustered her even more.
‘No, thank you.’ Thankfully the door swung open and Sabrina led the way into the elegant hallway.
The apartment was very large and decorated in a stylishly modern way. Crystal lights illuminated warm peach walls and highlighted the thick beige carpet that ran through each room.
‘Nice apartment,’ Marc remarked as his eyes moved over the lounge with its large cream leather suite and the modern pictures that lent vibrant splashes of colour to the room. ‘Working for Garth must pay well.’
Sabrina’s eyebrow lifted at such a remark. Really, who did the man think he was? It was none of his business where her money came from.
She decided not to answer such a remark but instead waved him towards the settee. ‘Make yourself comfortable,’ she said stiffly. ‘I’ll just put the kettle on.’
Instead of going into the lounge, however, he followed her into the kitchen.
She flicked a disgruntled glance at him as he leaned nonchalantly against the marble worktops to watch her fill the kettle.
‘The view’s better in here,’ he drawled lazily as he caught her eye, and then his gaze moved slowly from her neat ankles up over her long legs and curving body.
She felt her body heat start to rise at that look, and she turned away impatiently to open the cupboards and get out some china cups and saucers. Why did he keep looking at her like that?
‘So why did you give up working for my stepfather, Sabrina?’ he asked casually.
Her fingers slipped on the bone-china cup she had been reaching for and she watched in horror as it fell with a crashing sound on to the tiled floor. ‘Damn!’ Her dismayed voice sounded loud in the silence.
He bent to help her pick up the pieces. ‘Shame,’ he murmured as he turned the end of the cup over. ‘Royal Doulton as well—a very expensive piece.’
She glared at him. ‘What are you anyway, a tax inspector?’ she asked stiffly. ‘You’ve done nothing but make references to how expensive things are.’
He looked at her with raised eyebrows. ‘Have I? I’m sorry... things of beauty just fascinate me.’ As he spoke his eyes moved over her face searchingly.
She bit down heavily on her lower lip and her blue eyes clouded with tears. ‘No...I’m sorry.’ She got up quickly and went to wrap the slivers of china in paper before putting them in the bin. ‘I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. It’s just... well, that tea service had sentimental memories. It was my mother’s.’ She didn’t turn to face him as she spoke—she was desperately trying to collect her emotions. It was so silly to be upset about something as small as a teacup, but it had brought thoughts of her mother vividly to her mind.
‘You’ll have to forgive me.’ She forced a smile to her lips and turned to face him. ‘My mother died a couple of months ago and I’m not fully myself yet.’
‘That’s understandable.’ His voice was surprisingly gentle, his eyes sympathetic now as they lingered on her bright, shimmering eyes. ‘Why don’t I make the coffee?’ he suggested with a smile. ‘You sit down for a moment.’
‘No... really.’ She tried to protest but he had already drawn out one of the kitchen chairs for her and was busy getting more cups out of the cupboard. It seemed futile to argue so she sat and watched him.
It seemed very strange to have such an attractive man in her kitchen making her coffee. He looked very out of place in the pretty kitchen. He was so suave and debonair in the immaculately cut suit, and yet so very masculine. Marc Kingsley just seemed to ooze sex appeal.
‘Do you take milk and sugar?’ he asked, interrupting her thoughts and making her jump.
‘No.’ She shook her head.
‘We have something in common.’ He smiled warmly at her as he placed the coffee in front of her.
They had more than he knew in common, she thought suddenly. ‘Would you prefer to sit in the lounge? It’s more comfortable,’ she said as he sat down opposite her.
‘No, I’m fine.’ He stretched out his long legs and reached for his cup. His hands looked very large against the delicate china, she noticed absently.
‘Well, I must say that I’m very glad that I decided to go in search of Garth tonight,’ he said suddenly.
She looked up at him with questioning eyes.
‘Otherwise we might never have met,’ he enlightened her softly.
She tried to will herself not to blush at that remark and laughed. ‘Garth told me to beware of your famous charm.’
‘Did he now?’ For just a second there was that undercurrent of steel in his tone again. Then he smiled. ‘Well, you have the advantage. He has never mentioned you to me.’
She sipped her coffee. ‘Well, when you are a private secretary you tend to learn a few things about your boss’s family now and then,’ she said lightly.
‘I suppose you do.’ He put his cup down. ‘You were about to tell me why you stopped working for Garth.’
‘Was I?’ She frowned for a moment. ‘You know, you really ask a lot of questions, Mr Kingsley.’ She held his gaze for a moment.
‘That’s because I’m very interested in you,’ he drawled huskily. ‘And the name’s Marc.’
Sabrina’s blood-pressure seemed to roar in her ears at that. ‘I’m flattered.’ Was Marc Kingsley really interested in her? Sabrina’s heart thudded wildly at
