One Night in the Orient

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At first without realising it, she began to respond to the soothing movement of his hand across her back. Her body stirred, sending secret, unsuspected signals that blossomed into a tantalising awareness, an insidious pleasure that sang through her in heady invitation.

A shiver of mixed anticipation and apprehension shocked her into pulling back. Instantly he released her and stepped away, examining her with the burnished gaze that successfully hid his thoughts.

Hot shame rushed through Siena. Rushing into speech she said, “Thanks.” And managed to sketch a smile. “You should have had sisters—you make a great brother.”

His brows lifted, and the smile he gave in return was sardonic. “Any time you need a fraternal shoulder, just let me know,” he said, drawling the words with an intonation that deepened her flush.

“I hope I never do again.” Her voice was pitched too high. Avoiding his glance, she picked up her wine glass.

Fine tremors shook her hand, and she hoped he couldn’t see the shimmer across the surface of the liquid when she lifted it to her lips. After the smallest of sips she set the glass back down again in case he’d noticed.

But he was looking at his watch. Immediately, as if he’d somehow summoned her, a woman appeared with a tray of small savouries. Nick introduced her as his housekeeper and when she’d gone he ordered, “Have something to eat. You’re as pale as a ghost.”

Obviously he hadn’t felt anything like that heady, sensuous connection. He probably hadn’t even realised what his closeness was doing to her.

Thank heavens. “Hadn’t you noticed I’m always pale?” she said crisply. “Although I prefer to think of myself as ethereally fair.”

His half-smile told her he knew what she was doing. “Ethereal? Not with devil-black curls and that smart mouth. I have to leave you—I’ll be no more than five minutes. When I come back I want to see several of those savouries eaten.”

Siena glowered balefully after him as he left the room, but although she wasn’t hungry the little mouthfuls of food looked delicious and smelt divine. Almost without thinking, she picked one up and nibbled, trying to sort out her thoughts and her odd reactions.

She was over Nick. Had been for years. She no longer even wanted to know why he’d made love to her with such wild tenderness, then left her with nothing more than an abrupt and angry statement that he’d lost his head and he was sorry.

As well as showing her how passionate she could be, Nick had hurt her—damaged her in a way she hadn’t understood or recognised until that moment. Unwittingly she must have vowed never to allow herself to feel so intensely again.

It had taken all her will, but she’d eventually managed to put him behind her and get on with her life. She’d met someone safe—someone she’d been sure would never cause her the pain Nick had.

She winced. Was that really why she’d chosen Adrian? Surely her love for him hadn’t been a mirage, desperately conjured by memories of the dark sorcerer who’d shown her passion and joy and then abandoned her to a world without either?

If so—if she’d let her misery at Nick’s rejection make the choice for her—perhaps Adrian had sensed it.

What weird power did Nick have that just being held in his sexless embrace roused a long-repressed hunger?

OK, so the day had flung a couple of nasty surprises at her—well, one shock and one disappointment—leaving her off-balance, stranded and short of money on the other side of the world from home. She’d been worried, but she’d have managed.

Then Nick had arrived. Being Nick, he’d taken over and.

And what?

In his aloofly controlled way he’d been protective and kind—clearly signalling that he was doing his duty to the couple who’d helped him when he was young and more vulnerable.

The soft sound of the door made her look up sharply. Her stomach dropped as Nick came in, black brows almost meeting across his nose.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

The frown smoothed out. “My question, I think. You look shell-shocked.”

“I’m fine,” she said automatically.

“And so am I.” He examined her face, then said with a touch of irony, “All right, I’ve just had a conversation with my PA that means I have to rearrange my schedule. It’s no big deal.”

Without preamble she said, “I used to resent you when I was a kid.”

He looked across at her, his brows slightly raised. “I know. You always wanted to come with us when your father and I went off to the various sports and games he introduced me to.”

“I must have been a brat.”

“Not exactly that,” he said dryly. “You were an uncompromising little thing, and very determined. I got used to thunderous frowns, black looks, pouting—”

“I never pouted!”

“You did, and very cutely. I didn’t blame you.”

“Generous of you,” she said with a wry smile. And because she’d always wondered, she asked, “How did you find yourself being Dad’s protégé?”

His expression tightened, but he spoke easily enough. “After my own father died I became hard to handle. My mother was desperate enough to contact an organisation that helped fatherless boys, one your father had volunteered for. We clicked.”

He stopped, then went on almost harshly, “I owe him an immense debt. When I decided to go out on my own in IT he couldn’t afford to back me financially, but he introduced me to people who could, and he gave me both intellectual and moral support.”

Very moved, she said, “That’s quite a tribute. But you did something for him too, you know. You were the son he never had.”

“I hope so,” he said, in a tone that came close to being dismissive, as if he’d said too much. “Dinner’s ready now if you are.”

Siena had been satisfied by the two small savouries she’d eaten, but the wine was making its effects felt. She felt disconnected, the raw shock of Adrian’s rejection lightly blanketed by a buzz in her head that told her she needed food.

Stubbornly she forced herself to eat, but halfway through the main course she stopped, shivering, and the words she’d been trying to get out refused to come. Horrified, she froze.

“You’re probably still jet-lagged, and in shock,” Nick said abruptly, getting to his feet. “You can stay the night here.”

“No, I—”

He interrupted curtly, “You need rest. And you’re in no fit state to be on your own. I’ll get a bed made up for you and tomorrow morning we can discuss what you’ll do.”