she donned fresh underwear, pulled on fitted jeans and a loose top, then twisted her damp hair into a knot on top of her head. A quick application of moisturiser, a light touch of colour to her lips and she was ready.
Benedict entered the bedroom as she emerged from the en suite, and she met his mocking smile with a deliberate slant of one eyebrow.
‘A delayed meeting?’
‘Two phone calls and a traffic snarl,’ he elaborated as he shrugged off his jacket and loosened his tie.
She moved towards the door. ‘Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.’
The gleam in those dark eyes was wholly sensual. ‘I had hoped to share your shower.’
Something tugged at her deep inside, flared, then spread throughout her body. ‘Too late,’ she declared lightly as she drew level with him.
His smile widened, accentuating the vertical lines slashing each cheek. ‘Shame.’
Her breath rose unsteadily in her throat as she attempted to still the rapid beat of her pulse. Did he take pleasure in deliberately teasing her?
‘A cool shower might help.’
‘So might this.’ He reached for her, angling his mouth down over hers in a kiss that held the promise of passion and the control to keep it at bay.
Gabbi felt her composure waver, then splinter and fragment as he drew deeply, taking yet giving, until she surrendered herself to the evocative pleasure only he could provide.
A tiny moan sounded low in her throat as he slowly raised his head, and she swayed slightly, her eyes wide, luminous pools as she surveyed his features. Her breathing was rapid, her skin warm, and her mouth trembled as she drew back from his grasp.
‘You don’t play fair,’ she accused him shakily, and stood still as he brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek.
His lips curved, the corners lifting in a semblance of lazy humour. ‘Go check with Marie,’ he bade her gently. ‘I’ll be down soon.’
Dinner was superb, the asparagus tender, the beef succulent and the lemon tart an excellent finale.
‘Coffee?’ Marie asked as she packed dishes onto a trolley.
Gabbi spared her watch a quick glance. It would take thirty minutes to dress, apply make-up and style her hair. ‘Not for me.’
‘Thanks, Marie. Black,’ Benedict requested as Gabbi rose from the table.
GABBI chose red silk evening trousers, matching camisole and beaded jacket. It was a striking outfit, complete with matching evening sandals and clutch-purse. The colour enhanced her delicate honey-coloured skin, and provided an attractive contrast for her blonde hair.
With extreme care she put the finishing touches to her make-up, donned the trousers and camisole, then brushed her hair. Loose, she decided, after sweeping it high and discarding the customary French pleat.
Her mirrored image revealed a confident young woman whose clothes and jewellery bore the exclusivity of wealth. There was a coolness to her composure, a serenity she was far from feeling.
Which proved just how deceptive one’s appearance could be, she decided wryly as she slid her feet into the elegant sandals.
‘Is the colour choice deliberate?’
‘Why do you ask?’ Gabbi countered as she met Benedict’s indolent gaze.
‘I get the impression you’re bent on making a statement,’ he drawled, and she directed a deceptively sweet smile at him.
‘How perceptive of you.’
He looked the epitome of male sophistication, the dark evening suit a stark contrast to the white cotton shirt and black bow tie.
It was almost a sin, she reflected, for any one man to exude such a degree of sexual chemistry. The strong angles and planes of his facial features bore the stamp of his character. The unwavering eyes were hard and inflexible in the boardroom, yet they filled with brooding passion in the bedroom. And the promise of his mouth was to die for, she concluded, all too aware of the havoc it could cause.
He possessed the aura of a predator, arresting and potentially dangerous. Compelling, she added silently.
A tiny thrill of excitement quivered deep inside her at the thought of the pleasure it would give her to pull his tie free and help discard his clothes. And have him remove her own.
‘Why the faint smile?’
The desire to shock deepened the smile and lent her eyes a tantalising sparkle. ‘Anticipation,’ she enlightened him wickedly.
‘Of Leon’s exhibition?’
She doubted he was fooled in the slightest, for he seemed to find her achingly transparent. ‘Naturally.’
‘We could always arrive late,’ Benedict suggested in dry, mocking tones, and the edges of her mouth formed a delicious curve.
‘Leon would be disappointed.’ Not to mention Annaliese, she added silently, mentally weighing up which might be the worst offence.
‘I could always placate him by making an exorbitant purchase.’
She gave it consideration, then shook her head with apparent reluctance.
‘Teasing incurs a penalty,’ Benedict declared with soft emphasis.
‘I am suitably chastened.’
‘That compounds with every hour,’ he completed silkily, and saw the momentary flicker of uncertainty cloud those beautiful eyes. It made him want to reach out and touch his hand to her cheek, see the uncertainty fade as he bent his head to claim her mouth. He succumbed to the first but passed on the latter.
Gabbi collected her clutch-purse and preceded him from the room, and, seated inside the Jaguar, she remained silent, aware that the latent power of the sports car equalled that of the man seated behind the wheel.
To attempt to play a game with him, even an innocuous one, was foolish, she perceived as the car purred along the suburban streets. For even when she won she really lost. It didn’t seem quite fair that he held such an enormous advantage. Yet the likelihood of tipping the scales in her favour seemed incredibly remote.
‘How did James react to your proposal?’ Business was always a safe subject.
Benedict turned his head slightly and directed a brief glance at her before focusing his attention on the road. ‘Small talk, Gabbi?’
‘I can ask James,’ she responded steadily.
‘I fly to Melbourne in a couple of weeks.’
I, not we, she thought dully. ‘How long will you be away?’
