spots around the high-fenced perimeter. And by an amazing stroke of luck one of those spots appeared to be reserved for them.
‘This is better.’ He took her jacket from her hands—a little black number with embroidery on the pockets—and settled it around her shoulders. Her bobbed hair, cut just below chin length, brushed silkily against his fingers.
Her fragrance teased his nostrils. Not perfume, but something that smelled like spiced raspberries. ‘Now we can talk without risk to our vocal chords.’ Her eyes intrigued him. Beneath their placid reserve he glimpsed the promise of passion. ‘So, Ellie, if you’re not into the club scene, what do you do for fun on a regular Saturday night?’
‘I read. Science fiction and fantasy mostly.’ Shrugging deeper beneath her jacket, she said, ‘I know…that probably sounds pathetically solitary and boring to someone like yourself.’ She rolled her eyes to the star-studded sky. ‘But haven’t you ever wondered what’s out there?’
‘Sure.’ He shifted his gaze—not skyward but to the tempting column of her throat. ‘For now, though, I’m perfectly satisfied with what’s right here in front of me.’
‘Oh…’
He blinked. Oh? That was it? Most women would respond with a smile or a giggle or a flutter of lashes—some hint that this game was definitely going somewhere.
Not Ellie. And yet there was no mistaking the latent heat behind her gaze. She tugged the edges of her jacket together with tightly curled fingers and switched topics. ‘What’s been happening in Sydney?’
He rocked back on his heels. ‘To tell you the truth, I’ve been too busy to notice.’
‘Doing what?’
‘I’m working on a harbour-side housing project at the moment. How about you? What line of work are you in?’
She moved her shoulders. ‘A bit of this, a bit of that. I like to move around, so I pick up work wherever.’
‘Travel. So I’m guessing you’ve been overseas?’
She coughed out a laugh. ‘I’m afraid nothing near as exciting as that. Name a town between Sydney and Adelaide and I’ve probably been there at some stage in the past few years. I don’t like to be tied down.’ She laughed again but the humour didn’t seem to reach her eyes. ‘Call me irresponsible.’
‘Okay, but at some point, you’d probably like to settle in one place, build a career and take on the responsibility of raising a family?’
She shook her head once. ‘Not me. I’m a free spirit. I go where I please, when I please. And I like it that way.’
Do you? he wondered, watching the play of mixed emotions flicker across her gaze.
‘And I can eat the whole darn cheesecake in one sitting if I want. Now that’s what I call freedom.’ Her smile broadened. This time her eyes danced with devilment and he found himself totally entranced by the way her lips curved, making apples of her cheeks.
‘I guess it is,’ he agreed, smiling back. ‘Free spirit, huh.’ His lips tingled in anticipation of his first taste of her luscious-looking lips. He could almost feel their sweet heat, the warmth of her breath against his cheek…‘Ellie, I want to kiss you,’ he murmured. ‘I’ve been wanting to kiss you since the moment I laid eyes on you.’ And a lot more besides, but he didn’t voice that yet.
Her head snapped back, her eyes locked on his and the slow-burning sexual tension which had been simmering along nicely evaporated in a puff of frosty air. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, then they disappeared altogether as she pressed them into a tight flat line.
His body howled a protest. That’s what you get for being a gentleman, McGregor. He’d not had much experience with women knocking him back. Or he was right and she wasn’t as free spirited as she was making out. ‘Is there someone else?’
‘No.’ Her face reflected the light from the pink lantern hanging nearby as she shook her head.
‘So…?’
Nearby, someone’s glass shattered on the concrete but her eyes remained locked with his. They seemed to say yes, but her behaviour indicated otherwise. The wind scuttled along the high brick fence, scattering dried leaves at their feet and riffling through her bright hair, gleaming like moonlight.
Then her shoulders tightened as she drew in air. ‘So…do it, then.’
Her surprisingly breathy demand had his libido leaping to attention. He leaned closer, watching her chest rise sharply as she drew another swift breath, watching her eyes flare with a mix of vulnerability, hesitance and anticipation.
He barely laid his lips on hers, just enough to feel the warmth there, the texture. It was like tasting summer’s first ripe peach. Sweet, soft. Sensuous. Eliciting a low throaty murmur from her that sang like honey through his bloodstream.
More. It was more than he’d anticipated and it threw him for a loop. He lifted his head to gaze down at her, saw that she was as surprised as he. He hadn’t expected to feel his heart beating oddly out of time, as if he stood on the top of the Sydney Harbour Bridge in the middle of a storm without a safety harness.
Willing to believe it had been a fluke, again he lowered his lips, felt her hesitance dissipate like autumn mist in sunshine as she shifted nearer. Her mouth, tentative and unsure, softened and opened beneath his. He took swift advantage, lifting his hands to cradle her jaw for more intimate access and angling his body so that they aligned in the all right places.
He felt her tiny frame quiver against him as he swept his tongue inside her mouth to tangle with hers where the flavours were richer, darker, hotter.
Ah, now she didn’t resist. In any way. She was right there with him—he knew by the way her tongue curled with his, the way her body turned fluid and malleable against him. He stepped closer, her legs tangling against his.
Either she didn’t notice or she didn’t care. Her hands slid up the front of his shirt. He could feel his heart pounding into her flattened palms. Then she slid them down again and wrapped them around his waist, and leaned in so her breasts pushed against his chest.
He let his hands wander too, over the smooth creamy column of her neck, the delicate heart pendant she wore, inside her jacket until they found the neckline of her dress. Down, palms skimming the outside of her breasts, the womanly shape where her waistline dipped, then flared again as he traced her hips. She was perfection. He wanted more. And with the way she was melting against him, it would appear he was in luck.
Ellie’s knees were so loose it was a minor miracle she didn’t collapse right there on the pavers. Her pulse thundered, her blood sizzled. Her only thought was she couldn’t believe that she was letting this man—this godlike man who smelled sinfully good and probably did this every night of the week with a different woman—kiss her to kingdom come.
Then her eyes closed, her mind shut down and all she felt was sensation. His hands warm and firm on her body, his unfamiliar hot, potent flavour, the sound of fabric shifting against fabric as he drew her closer.
And she was clutching his shirt without even realising she’d reached for him. Her body was burning without any recollection of who’d lit the fire.
His
