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It wasn’t enough.
She needed more.
Much more.
She slid her arms round his neck, drawing his head back down to hers. Even as she did it she knew it was crazy. They’d barely spoken a word to each other. Had only just exchanged first names. She didn’t do things like this.
Yet here she was, kissing a complete stranger. A man she knew nothing about, except for his first name and the fact that he had the sexiest mouth she’d ever seen.
And then she stopped thinking as he deepened the kiss and her fingers tangled in his hair, urging him closer. His hair felt clean and springy under her fingers and she could smell the exotic scent of his aftershave, a sensual mixture of bergamot and citrus and amber. Simply gorgeous.
In turn, his arms were wrapped round her, one hand resting on the curve of her buttocks and the other flat against her back, drawing her closer against his body. So close that she could practically feel his heart beating, a deep and rapid throb that matched her own quickening pulse rate.
She’d heard people talking about seeing stars when they kissed and had always thought it an exaggeration. Now she knew exactly what they were talking about. This was like nothing else she’d ever experienced: as if fireworks were going off inside her head.
When he finally broke the kiss, she was shaking with need and desire. Every nerve ending in her body was sensitised—and the sensation ratcheted up another notch when he traced a path of kisses along her jawbone to her ear lobe, and then another along the sensitive cord at the site of her neck. She shivered and arched against him; in response, he pulled her closer, close enough for her to feel his erection pressing against her belly. His palm flattened against her hip and stroked upwards, moulding her curves; when he cupped one breast, his thumb rubbing the hard peak of her nipple through the material of her dress, her knees went weak.
All her senses were focused on him. The tang of his aftershave, the more personal scent of his skin, the taste of his mouth on hers, the warmth of his hands through her clothes—a thin barrier that was suddenly way, way too thick for her liking. Right at that moment she really needed to feel his skin against hers. Soft and warm and incredibly sexy.
Then he went absolutely still. Lily opened her eyes and pulled back slightly, about to ask what was wrong, when she heard it, too.
The sound of a door closing.
People talking.
The chink of glasses.
Oh, Lord.
They weren’t alone on the balcony any more. And she’d been so lost in the way he was kissing her…No doubt she looked as dishevelled as he did, with mussed hair and a mouth that was slightly reddened and swollen with kisses, making it obvious what they’d just been doing.
This was a disaster.
But hopefully it was fixable.
At least they weren’t immediately in full sight; somehow while he’d been kissing her he’d managed to manoeuvre them behind one of the large potted palms at the side of the balcony, screening them from view.
Frantically, she smoothed her dress, removed the band keeping her hair tied and yanked her hair back into tight order. It was just as well they’d been interrupted, or who knew what they might have done?
She’d just broken every single one of her personal rules. Even though she’d hand-picked her staff and she knew they were perfectly capable of holding the fort, she should still have been there to oversee things and sort out any last-minute hitches. She was supposed to be working. And instead she’d let a complete stranger whisk her off to the balcony to kiss her stupid. She’d followed her libido instead of her common sense.
Had she really learned nothing from the wreck of her marriage?
Karim, too, was restoring order to his clothes.
‘I really have to go,’ she whispered, keeping her voice low so she wouldn’t be overheard by the others on the balcony.
‘Not yet,’ he said, his voice equally soft. He traced the fullness of her lower lip with his thumb. ‘Or I think both of us will be embarrassed.’
‘But we didn’t…’ Lily’s voice faded as a picture slammed into her mind—a picture of what would have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted. A picture of him drawing the hem of her dress up around her waist while she undid his bow tie and opened his shirt. A picture of him lifting her, balancing her against the wall, and then his body fitting against hers, easing in and then—
‘Don’t,’ he warned huskily, and she saw his pupils dilate. No doubt her thoughts had shown in her eyes, and he was thinking something along exactly the same lines.
All he had to do was dip his head slightly and he’d be kissing her again. Tasting her. Inciting her to taste him, touch him in return. And, Lord, she wanted to touch. Taste. Feel him filling her.
She swallowed hard.
Whatever was wrong with her? She never, but never, turned into a lust-crazed maniac. For the last four years she’d been single and perfectly happy with that situation. She had no intention of getting involved again. But this man had drawn an instant response from her. Made her feel the way nobody had before.
Which, as he was a total stranger, was insane.
This shouldn’t be happening.
She only hoped the people who’d come out onto the balcony would go back into the main room again. The longer they had to stay behind the potted palm, the more embarrassing it would be when they finally emerged.
Again, his thoughts must have been in tandem with hers, because he said softly, ‘The French doors are the only way out. Unless you’re a gymnast in disguise and can launch yourself off the balcony onto a distant drainpipe, then shin down it.’
‘Hardly. And I haven’t been on a double-oh-seven training course,’ she said ruefully, ‘or I could’ve magicked a steel line from somewhere and clipped it onto the ironwork and we could both have abseiled down to the balcony beneath this one and escaped through the downstairs flat.’
‘Great idea.’ His eyes glittered with amusement. ‘I wonder if my watch…?’ He tapped it gently with his forefinger. ‘Sadly, no. It’s just a watch, I’m afraid. I didn’t do the double-oh-seven training course, either.’
His teasing smile was the sexiest thing Lily had ever seen, and she almost—almost—found herself reaching up to pull his head back down to hers. But she managed to keep herself under control. Just.
‘Looks like we’ll have to wait it out, then,’ she said quietly.
A wait that grew more and more awkward with every second; she didn’t dare meet his eyes, not wanting him to guess how much she wanted him to kiss her again.
But then, at last, the hubbub of voices on the other side of the potted palms grew quiet and finally died away, followed by the distinct sound of the balcony doors closing.
Alone again.
And although the feeling of danger should’ve vanished with the people who’d left the balcony, Lily discovered that it had actually increased.
‘Just for the record,’ she said, ‘I don’t do this sort of thing.’
He gave her a rueful smile. ‘I had intended just to introduce myself and ask you to have dinner with me.’
The ‘but’ hung in the air between them.
Instant attraction, that neither of them had been able to fight.
Oh, Lord.
What if there had been problems? What if someone had come looking for her in the space of time she’d been out here with Karim, failed to find her, panicked?
She couldn’t afford to do this. For her business’s sake.
‘I really do have to go,’ Lily said.
He took a pen and a business card from his pocket, and scribbled a number on the back of the card. ‘Call me,’ he said, handing the card to her.
It was more of a command than a question. Karim was clearly a man who was used to people doing what he told them to. Normally, the attitude would have annoyed her. But that connection between them, and the way he’d kissed her… This sort of thing didn’t happen every day. She had a feeling it had shaken him just as much as it had shaken her. And even though her head told her that this was a seriously bad idea, that relationships just messed things up and were more hassle than they were worth, her mouth had other ideas. ‘I’ll call you,’ she agreed softly.
He cupped her face briefly with one hand, the gesture cherishing. ‘Go,’ he said. ‘I’ll stay here for a few minutes. And if Felicity isn’t happy, text me and I’ll go and talk to her.’
And charm her out of a bad mood, no doubt, Lily thought wryly. Not that she was going to let him make excuses for her. If there was a problem, it was her responsibility and she’d deal with it. But she knew he’d meant well, so she smiled politely. ‘Thanks.’
As if he couldn’t help himself, he brushed his mouth over hers. ‘Later.’
And the promise in his voice sent another kick of desire through her.
CHAPTER TWO
‘LILY! Oh, thank God you’re back.’ Beatrice, her chief waitress, sounded heartfelt.
‘What’s…? Oh.’ Lily cut off the question, seeing Hannah, her assistant, clearing up a soggy mess from the floor. The bite-sized pavlovas topped with a slice of strawberry and a kiss of cream that she’d assembled fifteen minutes or so ago had turned into Eton Mess, splattered across the floor. The whole lot would have to go straight in the bin.
And now they were one large platter short of puddings.
Just as well that, knowing how easily meringues could shatter, Lily had brought extra to cover any breakages.
‘Can you whip me some cream, Hannah?’ she asked. ‘And, Bea, if you can wash up that platter, please?’ Meanwhile, she checked what she had left in the way of fruit. There weren’t enough strawberries to do a full platter of mini strawberry pavlovas, but she could add some lemon curd to half the cream and add a slice of kiwi fruit for contrasting colour.
‘I’m so sorry, Lily,’ Hannah said, looking tearful. ‘I wasn’t looking where I was going, I tripped, and I—’
‘Hey, no use crying over spilt meringues,’ Lily interrupted with a smile. ‘It happens. I have spares. It’s fixable.’
‘But…’
‘It’s OK,’ Lily said, firmly yet gently. She knew exactly why Hannah was distracted. Hannah’s marriage was coming to a very messy end and the strain of trying to minimise the effects on her four-year-old daughter while trying to keep her life together was spilling over into her work. Not that Lily intended to read the Riot Act. Hannah, despite having a newborn, had been there for her when things had gone so badly wrong with Jeff. This was Lily’s chance to do the same for her friend.
Jeff.
A harsh reminder of exactly why Lily shouldn’t ring the number scribbled on the back of Karim’s business card. Relationships spelled trouble. They distracted you from your goals and made life difficult. Particularly when your judgement in men was so lousy that you trusted them completely and they took advantage of your naivety. Took everything, the way Jeff had. Crushing her self-respect, her pride and her bank account. The sense of betrayal, hurt and loss had been crushing. And someone as gorgeous as Karim would have women dropping at his feet—just like Jeff. OK, she knew that not all men were unfaithful, lying louses…but Jeff had hurt Lily enough to make her extremely wary of relationships.
Pushing both her ex-husband and the gorgeous stranger out of her mind, Lily applied herself to assembling another plateful of pavlovas.
Working rapidly, she moved on to filling tiny choux buns with the coffee liqueur mousse she’d made earlier and sent Hannah out with a tray of miniature chocolate muffins and Bea out with melon-ball-sized scoops of rich vanilla ice cream covered in white chocolate and served on a cocktail stick.
The platters all came back with just a couple of canapés left on each. Good. She’d judged the quantities just right: enough to leave Felicity’s guests replete but not enough to be wasteful. Years of having to struggle to pay off the overdraft Jeff had run up in her name—an overdraft he’d spent on his mistress—meant that Lily absolutely loathed waste. Quietly pleased, she concentrated on clearing up.
She’d just finished when Felicity Browne came in. ‘Lily, darling, that was stupendous.’
‘Thank you.’ Lily had learned not to protest that no, no, she was just average. There was no room for false modesty, in business. She wanted her clients to feel reassured that they’d made the right choice in using Amazing Tastes for their catering needs, and accepting their compliments helped to do that.
‘Those little choux buns…’ Felicity began wistfully.
Lily smiled, guessing exactly what Felicity wanted. ‘I’ll send you the recipe. And you don’t have to make the choux pastry if that’s a hassle for you. You can serve the mousse on its own, in little coffee cups—just garnish them with a couple of chocolate-covered coffee beans and maybe a sprig of mint for colour.’
Felicity laughed. ‘That’s exactly why I always ask you to do my parties. You’re so good at those little extra touches.’
‘Thank you.’ Lily acknowledged the compliment with a smile.
She stayed just long enough to make the polite social chat she knew was expected of her, made one last check that she’d left Felicity’s kitchen completely spotless, then dropped Hannah at her house on the way home. As she took her equipment out of the van and put it away Lily couldn’t help thinking about Karim. And even though she knew it was crazy and it was way too late to call him, she fished inside her handbag for his business card.
Though it wasn’t in the little pocket where she usually kept business cards. Odd. She’d developed a habit of filing things away neatly—they were easier to find, that way.
She checked the rest of her bag. It wasn’t there, either.
Impossible. She was sure she’d put it in her bag.
And then she thought back. When she’d returned to the mini-crisis in the kitchen, she’d probably put the card on the worktop instead of her handbag, knowing that before she did anything else she needed to reassure her staff and stop them panicking.
Which meant that the card had probably been swept up with the refuse and thrown away.
Damn, damn, damn.
She could hardly phone Felicity and ask if she could rummage through the bin. And she definitely couldn’t ask her for Karim’s number or the guest list, because that would be completely unprofessional and Elizabeth Finch was never, but never, unprofessional.
Well, OK, occasionally she acted unprofessionally. As she had on a certain balcony, a couple of hours earlier that evening, when she’d kissed a tall, dark, handsome stranger. Really kissed him. And if they hadn’t been interrupted, who knew what would have happened?
But it was over now.
Which she knew was for the best. Karim and his exotic amber eyes had tempted her to break all her personal rules. Losing his card had done her a favour—it had saved her from herself.
Karim was working through a set of figures when his phone rang. He answered it absently. ‘Karim al-Hassan.’
‘Your Highness, it’s Felicity Browne. I wanted to thank you for these gorgeous roses.’
‘My pleasure,’ he said. He’d sent Rafiq, his assistant, to deliver a bouquet thanking her for her hospitality, along with a handwritten note of thanks. ‘And please call me Karim.’ He didn’t insist on using his title in England, preferring people to be more relaxed with him.
‘Karim,’ she repeated obediently. ‘Hardly anyone even writes a note nowadays, let alone sends such a lovely gift, especially on a Sunday,’ she continued. ‘Anyway, I won’t keep you—I’m sure you’re busy. But I couldn’t just take these flowers for granted.’
He smiled. ‘I’m glad you liked them. Actually, I had planned to call you later today.’ He’d discovered this morning that he had a problem, and he hoped that Felicity would be able to give him a quick solution. ‘The food last night was fabulous.’
‘Thank you. But I’m afraid I can’t take the credit for anything other than choosing the menu, and even in that I think I was guided,’ Felicity admitted with a little laugh.
‘Your staff?’ he asked.
‘Sadly not—it’s a catering firm, Amazing Tastes.’
A very accurate name, Karim thought.
‘I’ve asked Elizabeth Finch—the owner—several times if she’d come and work for me, offered her stupendous amounts of money, but she won’t let anyone tie her down. I was lucky she could fit me in, because she’s usually booked up for months in advance,’ Felicity confided.
So the cook was freelance. Good. That meant there wouldn’t be a problem asking her to cater for his presentations. Even though Felicity would probably have allowed him to poach her personal cook for a few days, this avoided any awkward obligations.
‘Actually, I’m looking for a good caterer for some business presentations.’ He’d had a caterer lined up. But as her sister had had a baby that morning, two months early, Claire had phoned him in a panic, saying that she needed to drop everything and look after her niece while her sister spent all her time at the special care baby unit. Except Claire’s sister lived in Cornwall, a good five hours away—and as Claire was her only family, there was nobody else to do it.
