its loss her hand was engulfed by his and she was striding with him across the ballroom.
When they reached the lobby, he whirled around, his lips stopping just inches from hers. Was he doing it on purpose? Tempting her until she lost her mind and gave in?
‘Help me here,’ he said, his voice soft and enticing. ‘You’re attracted to me.’ The lilt of his voice was just charming enough to compensate for his lack of modesty. ‘So what’s stopping you?’
She took her hand back, and a step away from him, understanding that being so close was doing nothing for her decision-making skills. This wasn’t a question of what she wanted; she couldn’t just drop everything and leave on a whim.
‘Nothing’s stopping me,’ she said, keeping her voice carefully even. There was no need for him to know the nagging dread that would start in the base of her brain if she decided to embrace spontaneity. No need for him to know that she’d not done anything without a plan, a back-up plan and a contingency plan since she was a teenager. ‘I’m working. I had some free time scheduled, and thank you for the dance, but now I have to get back.’
He looked at her carefully, and she held his gaze. ‘Do you always have a plan? A schedule?’
‘I do. What’s wrong with that?’
‘Oh, you mean except for the claustrophobia, the inflexibility, the stifling—’ Wisely, he stopped himself, probably remembering he should play to his audience. ‘So I wasn’t in your plan for tonight. But what if something unexpected comes up? That must happen sometimes, right? Meetings get cancelled, things run late. Contracts get lost in the post. What happens to your plans then?’
‘I make a new one,’ she said, wondering what was behind his cut-off outburst, the flash of panic she’d seen on his face.
‘You adapt to the circumstances—just like that. No stress. No panic.’
‘Of course.’ Working with Will could—and frequently did—send crises her way. She smoothed each problem until it fitted neatly into her existing plans, and all without anyone seeing that below the surface she was paddling like a racing swan.
Leo smiled at her as if he’d just scored a point. ‘So make a new plan for tonight. Nothing serious, no reason to change tomorrow’s plans, or any day after that. Just reschedule a couple of hours tonight to fit me in.’
‘A couple of hours?’ She raised an eyebrow at that: one night suited her just fine—her life was too full for anything more—but she had ideas enough already to fill more than a couple of hours. If she was going to do this, she was going to be sure it was worth her while.
And she was intrigued, because he was right. She’d altered plans before. She’d adapted to circumstances. Allowed for last-minute changes. So why shouldn’t she do that tonight? Through the window into the ballroom she caught sight of Will and Maya dancing and remembered what she’d felt earlier, that stab of curiosity, or loneliness, or... Perhaps the fact that she didn’t even know what it was made a good enough reason to do this.
‘I have a few things I have to finish up before I—’
With a smile, he swooped in and pressed a quick, hard kiss to her lips. ‘Just tell me when.’
LEO CRACKED AN eyelid and spotted a tangle of brown hair on the pillow beside him. Relaxing his head back, he was assailed by a stream of memories from the night before. Rachel meeting him outside the ballroom, belting her coat, telling him a cab was waiting for them. Him pressing a kiss to her neck as she unlocked her front door, too impatient to wait until they were inside. Her peeling off the silk of her dress with a teasing glint in her eyes.
He should be getting going, he thought, knowing that waiting round till breakfast could build unreasonable expectations that he might stay till lunch, and then dinner and then... His shoulders tensed, reminding him why breakfast was always a bad idea. Before he knew it, he could find himself trapped by expectations, unable to see his way out. The weight of claustrophobia sat on his chest as he remembered that feeling, of being stuck in a situation he couldn’t escape. Locked in a dorm with people who only wanted to cause him hurt. But that wouldn’t happen with Rachel, he reminded himself. She didn’t want to lock him into anything. They were both happy with just one night. It had been hard enough to persuade her to find a few hours.
A snuffling noise came from beneath the mass of hair, and he smiled, despite himself. Running out of the door might be the safest option—and he wanted that Exit sign well in sight—but as he was hit by more flashbacks, he realised staying could definitely have its advantages.
He glanced around the bedroom, half lit by the summer sun fighting the curtains, and noticed for the first time the neatly arranged furniture, coasters on the bedside tables, books on the shelf organised by size, not a hairbrush or handbag or discarded running shoe in sight. The only items out of place were the trail of clothes from door to bed. So she’d not been faking the control-freakery. He felt a twist of unease again in his belly at what that might mean, whether that control would be heading his way. But he’d been pretty clear last night that he was only after a bit of fun—and she’d been equally frank about not being able to clear more than one night from her schedule for him.
Then a smooth calf rubbed against his leg, and any thoughts of running for the door vanished. Rachel turned her head on the pillow, and he watched her face as her eyes blinked, waiting for the moment when they finally opened properly and focused on him.
‘Hi.’ The sensation of her skin on his was making him impatient, and he wondered if it normally took her this long to come round.
‘Morning.’ She spoke the word quickly, shaking her head and blinking, as if rapidly assessing the situation and devising several different scenario-dependent plans. And she pulled the duvet up higher, tucking it tight against her breasts. A bit late for that, Leo thought. There was nothing he hadn’t seen last night. More memories washed over him. Her skin, her taste, her smell.
‘Forget I was here?’ he asked, with a grin, propping himself up on one elbow.
‘I thought maybe...’ She flipped over and rubbed at her eyes, still sending him cautious looks, in between glancing at the door. Which told him exactly what she was thinking—the same as he’d been thinking not long before. ‘Never mind.’ She smiled, a little shyly, and glanced at the window. ‘I need to be getting up.’ She sat up properly and reached for her phone beside the bed, checking the time. At least he hoped that was all she was checking. He wasn’t sure he could take it if she was kicking him out so she could deal with email.
‘It’s the weekend—what’s the rush?’ He wrapped his arm around her waist under the cover and pulled her back to him, grinning as she relaxed slightly. He took advantage of her momentary acquiescence and leaned over her, pinning her in place with an arm either side of her.
‘I think you should stay,’ he murmured soothingly, suddenly feeling as if nothing was as important as convincing her to spend a few more hours with him. It must be the sex, he told himself—the promise of a repeat performance—that had him so desperate to stay. Nothing to do with the cold and hurt he’d felt when she’d pushed him away—emotionally, if not physically—just now. He leaned in closer, brushed his lips softly against hers. When he thought he had her attention, he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear.
‘We could pretend it’s not morning yet.’ He glanced
