anything except now.
And that was dangerous. Infinitely dangerous. Somehow she couldn’t imagine it being easy to sample what Sebastian Lanier had to offer, then calmly turn and walk away.
It was better, far better not to engage in anything at all. Besides, what could happen in a week?
Anneke picked at the fish, sampled each of the vegetables, returned to the fish, then replaced her cutlery down onto the plate.
‘The fish isn’t to your liking?’
She glanced up and met Sebastian’s perceptive gaze. ‘No, it’s fine. I’m just not that hungry.’
He speared a small scallop from his plate and held it temptingly close to her mouth. ‘Try this. It’s perfection.’
There was an implied intimacy in the gesture, and her eyes widened slightly, then stilled as she was held mesmerised by the sensual warmth apparent in the dark grey eyes of the man seated opposite.
Anneke felt as if she was damned if she took the morsel, and equally damned if she didn’t.
‘It’s easy,’ Sebastian said gently. ‘Just open your mouth.’
She hesitated another second, then leant forward and took the scallop from his fork with her teeth.
Act, a tiny voice prompted. ‘Superb texture,’ she commented, and glimpsed the latent humour apparent.
‘More?’ The query was a soft, sensual drawl, and she shook her head as she reached for her glass.
What was the matter with her? Even the champagne tasted different.
The waiter appeared and removed both plates, queried their preference for tea or coffee.
‘Tea—Earl Grey,’ Anneke qualified, while Sebastian chose black coffee.
There was music, and a small dance floor, with two couples moving together as a slow ballad emitted from strategically placed speakers.
‘Dance with me.’
She looked at him carefully, and knew she should refuse. There was something evident in his expression she couldn’t quite define. Sensuality, intoxicating and mesmeric. Bewitching chemistry at its zenith.
Anneke gathered her napkin and placed it on the table, then stood to her feet and allowed Sebastian to lead her to the dance floor.
He caught her close with natural ease, his steps fluid as he led her slowly round the small square.
She could close her eyes and pretend there was no one else around. Slide her hands up over his shoulders and link them together at his nape. Undo the leather clasp that bound his hair, then thread her fingers at will through its length.
The image remained with her of how he’d looked the first night she’d caught sight of him in her aunt’s kitchen. A five o’clock shadow that had deepened into dark stubble, his hair loose and tousled. Even then she’d thought him lethal. Shameless, when he’d captured her head and bestowed a plundering kiss.
One ballad led on to another, and it was more than five minutes before the pace changed to something upbeat.
Sebastian led her back to the table. ‘More tea?’
‘No.’ It was after ten. They’d eaten a leisurely meal, enjoyed a dance. There was no reason to linger. ‘Would you mind if we leave?’
Sebastian settled the bill, and they walked to the car park. Within minutes the Range Rover eased its way onto the road, then picked up speed as they left the town behind.
Headlights shone twin beams into the encroaching darkness, and Anneke leaned her head back and focused on the road.
At this time of night there wasn’t much traffic, and all too soon Sebastian reached the turn-off leading down to both cottages.
Anneke reached for the door-clasp as soon as he switched off the engine.
‘Come in and share a drink with me.’
Every nerve in her body screamed an emphatic no. ‘It’s late, and I’m tired.’ Did she sound as breathless as she felt? Dear heaven, she hoped not!
He caught hold of her hand and lifted it to his lips. ‘You can sleep in tomorrow.’
‘Sebastian—’
He stilled her voice by the simple expediency of pressing a hand over her mouth. ‘Anneke.’ His voice held a teasing quality. ‘Are you afraid of me?’
She hesitated a fraction too long. ‘No, of course not.’
His smile was warm and infinitely sensual. ‘Then come share a coffee with me.’
Ten minutes, she compromised. She’d drink the coffee, then she’d go home.
Shaef greeted them at the door with restrained delight, and sank down at Anneke’s feet as she chose the informality of the kitchen in preference to the lounge.
Sebastian shrugged off his jacket and discarded his tie, then he crossed to the sink and filled the coffee-maker with water, ground fresh beans and spooned them into the filter, then depressed the switch. ‘Milk or cream?’ He crossed to a cupboard and extracted two cups and saucers.
‘Milk.’
He opened the refrigerator door, and she saw what looked suspiciously like her bombe au chocolat. Beside it was the sponge stuffed with strawberries and cream.
‘You should throw them out.’
He shot her an amused glance. ‘Not yet. I like to look at them.’
Her voice came out as a strangled sound. ‘Why?’
He extracted a carton of milk and closed the refrigerator door. ‘Because it reminds me of how much trouble you went to trying to kill me with indigestion.’
Of course he knew. How could he not?
‘I was intrigued to know what you’d dream up to serve me next.’
The coffeemaker completed its cycle, and Sebastian took hold of the carafe and filled both cups.
‘It was a challenge,’ she conceded with a tinge of humour. She spooned in sugar, stirred, then sipped the contents. ‘I owe you a meal. A decent one,’ she qualified.
‘An attempt to redeem yourself?’
‘I’ll go one better,’ she said solemnly. ‘Give me a menu, and I’ll prepare the food. Do you prefer vegetables or salad?’
‘Vegetables. Buttered baby potatoes in their jackets, asparagus with hollandaise sauce, honeyed carrots.’
‘Dessert?’
‘You.’
Anneke’s eyes flew wide. ‘Sorry,
