leant closer to breathe into her neck while his fingers moved in slow circles at her waist.
Suddenly Amber wished that she had installed air conditioning in the apartment because the air was starting to heat up far too quickly in this small space. And so close to her bed...
Amber lifted her hand from Sam’s shoulder and reached behind and gently slid her fingers around his wrist and released him.
And, just like that, the connection was broken, leaving her feeling dizzier than she wanted to admit.
Without his support, her legs felt so wobbly that she had to swivel around and sit down on the chair—anything but the bed. That would be far too dangerous with this man around and she would hate to give him ideas.
His brow creased and Sam crossed his arms in front of his chest as he stared at her, his legs wide, his shoulders back and squared, his gaze locked onto her face. As he stared his eyes narrowed as though they were concerned about something. And her foolish girly heart gave a little leap at the idea that he might still care about her.
‘Hey, Bambi. I thought we had a deal. It’s time you kept to your side of the bargain.’
‘Will you please stop calling me Bambi? Yes, I know you came up with the name in the first place, but Amber will do fine. And what do you mean? My side?’
‘Okay, then. Amber, I brought my own work uniform...’ Sam waved a hand down his clothing.
‘But you promised me refreshments. So far all I have seen are a small plate of girly mini cupcakes and one mug of weak Earl Grey tea.’
He winced and shook his head slowly from side to side. ‘That. Is not refreshments as I understand them. What’s more, I have just raided your refrigerator and there is nothing more than a couple of low fat yoghurts and some supermarket ready meals.’
He stood back and ogled her, then reached out and pinched her arm.
She wriggled away. ‘Hey. Ouch. What was that for?’
‘Too skinny and too pale and wobbly. By far. That decides it. We, young lady, are going out to get some food. What is your fancy? Mexican? Pub food? Take your pick.’
Amber looked around the bedroom in horror at the debris.
‘I can’t leave now. The flat is a mess and it will take me ages to tidy it up.’
‘But the girls have gone for the day...right?’
‘Well, yes. I don’t have any more appointments.’
‘Good. Because it is two o’clock in the afternoon and neither of us have eaten since breakfast. Right?’
Amber sighed and checked her wristwatch, and then her shoulders sagged. ‘I am flagging a bit. I suppose it would make sense to eat some late lunch...and what are you doing?’
‘Looking for your coat. And which one of these is your handbag? Come on, girl. The sun is still shining and there is nothing fit to eat in this apartment. What do you say? We get some lunch and I volunteer to carry your shopping home from the supermarket on the way back. You can’t get a better offer than that.’
‘Can’t I?’
Amber leant backwards and pulled out her mobile phone from her trouser pocket and was about to sling her cashmere wrap over one shoulder when Sam stepped behind her and wrapped it around her shoulders, gently pressing the collar into her neck, his fingertips touching her, and she blinked in delight then cursed herself for being so needy.
‘Actually, I might have a better idea, but I need to make a phone call. This restaurant can get extremely busy around lunchtime.’
Sam groaned. ‘I might have known. How many awards does it have? Because I have to tell you—I am not in the mood for mini tasting portions served on teaspoons made out of toast.’
She sniffed dismissively. ‘Several. But wait and see. You might just like it. And the table has the most amazing view over London.’
* * *
‘I don’t believe that you ordered home delivery,’ Sam exclaimed and put down his screwdriver as Amber sauntered into the kitchen swinging a large brown paper bag. ‘Don’t tell me that the famous Amber DuBois has suddenly got cold feet about being seen out in public. Or were you worried that I would make you pay the bill?’
Amber sniffed dismissively in reply. ‘Well, someone has a very high opinion of themselves.’ Then she sighed in exasperation and gestured with her head towards the cabinets. ‘Only now I am out of hands. Would you mind bringing the plates and cutlery? Have a rummage in that drawer. Yep. That’s it.’
‘You are avoiding my question,’ Sam said as he followed Amber out onto the sunlit terrace and spread the picnic kit out onto the table, where Amber was already pulling out foil containers. ‘Why not go out to some fabulous restaurant so the waiters can fawn all over you?’
She looked up at him and gave a half smile. ‘Two reasons. First, I want some peace and quiet to enjoy my meal, and the restaurant this food came from is always crushed jam-tight. And secondly—’ she paused and looked out towards the skyline ‘—I have only used this apartment on flying visits these past few years and never stayed long enough to enjoy the view.’ She nodded towards the railing. ‘Feel free. This is your city, after all. And I know how much you love London.’
Sam took the hint and walked the few steps over to the railing. And exhaled slowly at the awe-inspiring scene spread out in all directions in front of him. The stress of the past few days melted away as he took in the stunning view over the Thames and along both sides of the river for miles in each direction. His eyes picked out the locations which were so familiar they were like old friends. Friends like Amber had once been.
‘You always were the clever one. This is a pretty good view, I’ll give you that. And yes, London is my city, and it always has been. And what is that amazing smell?’
He turned back towards Amber and instantly his senses were filled with the most amazing aromas which instantly made his mouth water.
‘Are those Indian dishes? You used to hate spicy food.’
‘That was before I tasted real southern Indian food like this. Home-cooked traditional recipes from Kerala. The restaurant doesn’t usually do take out but I know the owner’s cousin. Willing to risk it?’
‘Are you kidding me?’ Sam replied and flung himself into the seat. ‘I loved living in Los Angeles, but you cannot get real Indian food unless you cook it yourself. Pass it over and tell me what you ordered.’
‘Vegetable curry, chickpea masala, coconut rice and a thick lamb curry for you. And just this once we are allowed to eat it using a fork and plates instead of fingers and a banana leaf. Go ahead and tuck in. I ordered plenty. What do you think?’
Sam held up a fork and dived into the nearest dish, speared some lamb and wrapped his lips around it.
Flavour and texture exploded on his tongue and he moaned in pleasure and delight before smiling and grabbing each dish in turn and loading up his plate with something of everything.
‘This is seriously good. But now I’m curious. How do
