She gasped, her body stiffening in immediate tension, and felt his mouth brush her parted lips, very slowly and very gently. Not threatening. Not even particularly demanding. Nothing that should cause that strange inner trembling again. But there it was, just the same, turning her limbs to water. Sending a ripple of yearning through her entire being. Just as if she’d never been kissed before. And as though she was being taught in one mind-numbing lesson where a kiss might lead.
When he raised his head, he was smiling faintly.
‘No,’ he said, half to himself. ‘Not what I was expecting at all.’
She said between her teeth, ‘Good. I’d hate to be predictable. Now, will you let me go, please?’
‘Reluctantly.’ His smile widened, but the turquoise gaze, boring into hers, was oddly serious. ‘And certainly not without something to remember me by.’
He picked up the dark red rose from the table and tucked it into the square neckline of her dress, sliding the slender, thornless stem down between her breasts.
Then he stepped back, looking at the effect he had created. Seeing how the crimson of the flower gleamed against the cream of her flesh.
And a muscle moved beside his mouth. Swiftly. Uncontrollably.
She felt her nipples swell and harden against the hug of the dress, and had to bite hard on her lower lip to dam back the small, urgent sound rising in her throat.
He said softly, ‘Janie—stay, please. You don’t have to leave.’
There was the hot, salty taste of blood in her mouth.
She said huskily, ‘Yes—yes, I do.’ And barely recognised her own voice.
Then she turned and walked quickly away, across the restaurant and into the foyer. Knowing as she did so that he was still standing there, silent and motionless, watching her go. And praying that he would not follow her.
CHAPTER TWO
ROS let herself into her house. Moving like a sleepwalker, she went into the sitting room and collapsed on to the sofa, because, as she recognised, her legs no longer wished to support her.
‘My God,’ she said, in a half-whisper. ‘What on earth did I think I was doing?’
Fortunately there’d been a cab just outside the restaurant, so she’d been able to make an immediate getaway.
Not that Sam Alexander had been anywhere in sight as she’d driven off, and she’d craned her neck until it ached to make certain.
But all the same she hadn’t felt safe until her own front door had closed behind her.
And, if she was honest, not even then. Not even now.
I should never have started this, she thought broodingly. I should have left well alone.
Because men like Sam Alexander could seriously damage your health. If you let them.
And it was useless to pretend she hadn’t been tempted. Just for a nano-second, perhaps, but no less potent for all that. Which had never been part of the plan.
Oh, God, the plan.
Unwillingly, her mind travelled back ten days, reminding her how it had all begun…
’Ros, just listen to this.’
As her stepsister hurtled into the room, waving a folded newspaper, Ros stifled a sigh and clicked ‘Save’ on the computer.
She said, ‘Janie, I’m working. Can’t it wait?’
‘Surely you can spare me five minutes.’ Janie operated the wounded look, accompanied by the pout, so familiar to her family. ‘After all, my future happiness is at stake here.’
Ros eyed her. ‘I thought all your happiness—past, present and future—was tied up in Martin.’
‘How can I have a relationship with someone who won’t commit?’ Janie demanded dramatically, flinging herself into the chintz-covered armchair by the window.
‘You’ve been seeing him for a month,’ Ros pointed out. ‘Isn’t that a little soon for a proposal of marriage?’
‘Not when it’s the right thing. But he’s just scared of involvement. So I’ve decided to stop being guided by my heart. It’s too risky. I’m going to approach my next relationship scientifically.’ She held up the newspaper. ‘With this.’
Ros frowned. ‘With the Clarion? I don’t follow…’
‘It’s their “Personal Touch” column,’ Janie said eagerly. ‘A whole page of people looking for love—like me.’
Ros’s heart sank like a stone. ‘Including a number of sad individuals on the hunt for some very different things,’ she said quietly. ‘Janie, you cannot be serious.’
‘Why not?’ Janie demanded defiantly. ‘Ros, I can’t wait for ever. I don’t want to go on living with our parents either. I want my own place—like you,’ she added, sweeping her surroundings with an envious glance. ‘Do you know how lucky you were, inheriting a house like this from Grandma Blake?’
‘Yes,’ Ros said quietly. ‘But, given the choice, I’d rather have Gran alive, well, and pottering in the garden. We were—close.’ She gave Janie a searching look. ‘You’re surely not planning to marry simply for a different roof over your head?’
‘No, of course not.’ Janie sounded shocked. ‘I really need to be married, Ros. It’s the crucial time for me. I wake up in the night, sometimes, and hear my biological clock ticking away.’
In spite of her concern, Ros’s face split into a grin as she contemplated her twenty-two-year-old stepsister. The tousled Meg Ryan-style blonde hair, the enormous blue eyes, and the slender figure shown off by a micro-skirt and cropped sweater hardly belonged to someone on the brink of decay.
Sometimes she felt thirty years older than Janie, rather than three.
‘Better your biological clock than a time bomb,’ she said caustically.
‘Well, listen to this.’ Janie peered at the paper. “‘High-flying, fun-loving executive, GSOH, seeks soulmate”. He doesn’t sound like a bomb.’ She frowned. ‘What’s a “GSOH”?’
‘A good sense of humour,’ Ros said. ‘And it usually means they haven’t one. And “fun-loving” sounds as if he likes throwing bread rolls and slipping whoopee cushions on your chair.’
‘Uh.’ Janie pulled a face. ‘How about this, then? “Lonely in London. Is there a girl out there who’s seriously interested in love and marriage? Could it be you?”’ Her face was suddenly dreamy. ‘He sounds—sweet, don’t you think?’
‘You don’t want to know what I think.’ Ros shook her head despairingly. “‘Lonely in London”? He’s been watching too many re-runs of Sleepless in Seattle.’
‘Well,
