He mesmerized her as he rose and straightened to his full height. His dark blue double-breasted pinstripe suit molded to his body. He flashed a white, even smile and beckoned her to him. As usual, a lock of his windswept hair fell on his forehead while another flipped over his left eye. The same deep need to tangle her hands in his hair and yank his head down for a kiss made her head spin. She breathed deep and tried not to wobble as she walked. Never clumsy, Sophia didn’t intend to start being so now.
His eyes… His emerald-green eyes framed by those long, dark, and full lashes are beautiful. It should be forbidden for men to have such beautiful, hypnotizing eyes. Sophia shivered as a disturbing feeling set in the pit of her stomach. This isn’t a business lunch. Oh, God. What am I doing? Ethan’s going to be furious. Sophia looked around, suddenly wary. And who said he needs to know?
Alistair observed Sophia as she meandered her way through the restaurant. There’s something different about her.
Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. She’s… nervous! Out of her depth. Why? She was oblivious to the male gazes turned in her direction. It’s as if she doesn’t know her own beauty. He took note of her dress. Daring, to say the least. Red blooming roses were printed on her heavy black silk mid-thigh dress. Not too short, but not the conservative knee length either.
Christ! Sheer black tights covered her long legs and her feet were encased in black leather high heels, strapped at her ankles. Sexy. Hot. Too bloody hot! Fuck! I’ll have to use a penis harness when I’m around her or everyone will notice I’m sporting a full hard-on. The woman is married. Alistair Connor MacCraig! Control yourself.
A large red-silk rose clasped her hair behind her head on the right, keeping her hair from her face. His breath hitched when, with a flick of her hand, she tossed her hair over her shoulder; her red nails screamed against her raven hair.
In an elegant movement, Sophia stretched her hand to shake his.
He held it between his for a moment beyond the usual, and kissed it, his green eyes glued to hers.
Cold. “Sophia, I was very pleased you accepted my invitation.” The waiter pulled the table so she could sit on the sofa next to him. “I can call you Sophia, can’t I?” Alistair’s gaze never left hers, a knowing smile on his lips. He had a slight, sexy Scottish accent she hadn’t noticed before.
“Yes,” she responded, her voice just a throaty murmur.
She adjusted her dress and he shifted on the seat. Immediately, his scent enveloped Sophia. She felt dizzy for a second and looked at his face.
“Creed.” The word was out of her mouth before she knew it. She flushed. I need a glass of water, quick. I’m feeling hot. Too hot. A thrill went through her spine. She shivered. She never, ever felt such fierce awareness of a stranger before in her life. And at a loss for words. What is happening to me? Mr. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it is turning me head-over-heels.
He startled. “I beg your pardon?”
“It is Creed, isn’t it? Sublime Vanille,” she inhaled. “I love that perfume. I’m wearing it.”
“Aye, it’s Creed. I don’t normally wear Sublime Vanille, it’s sweet, more feminine. I prefer Spice and Wood.” He perused her face and boldly bent his head in her direction. “You don’t smell of it.” He closed his eyes and inhaled her fragrance deeply. “You. You smell like white roses in bloom and orange sorbet with drops of vanilla sauce. A dessert. Utterly fresh and sweet.” His dark, deep voice breathed the words near her ear and she lifted her face to him. Her lips parted in ragged breaths, her eyes wide. Heat radiated from him as a warm, fragrant breeze and a hot feeling permeated her body, branding her.
He opened his eyes, his face just inches from hers. He cleared his throat and adjusted the perfect Windsor knot in his dark-green silk tie.
“Sophia, I don’t do married women.” His voice sounded dry, his icy green eyes held an amused wicked gleam.
She wasn’t even breathing. “I’m not married.” A throaty rasp. God, why did I just say that?
His brows rose. “Why do you insist on being called missis, then?”
“I was married.” Damn. Her response to him was terrifying.
“Have you been divorced long?”
She shook her head, too enthralled by his sexual power to do more than that.
“No, you’re not divorced or no, you haven’t been divorced long?”
“No,” a mere whisper, “I’m not divorced.” Sophia felt herself falling down a never-ending abyss.
“Aye?” His eyes flashed flames and his brows rose higher. “So?”
“I’m a widow.”
His onyx-black brows furrowed tightly and a sad look took over his features. “You’re too young to be a widow.”
She pulled herself out of the reverie and snorted, “I keep hearing this as if fate ought to have asked my age before…” She waved her hand in the air. Her sleeve fell and he held her hand gently with his fingers, his eyes darkening.
He scowled at her marked wrist and she tried to disengage her hand from his. His tender grip tightened. “Someone hurt you.” A fierce statement with a touch of anger.
“It’s nothing. I bruise easily,” Sophia said, thoroughly embarrassed. First Edward, now Alistair. She frowned at her wrist still in his hand and touched the black-and-blue marks gingerly with her left fingers. He grabbed the other one, too.
His thumbs caressed the back of them and his gaze pierced her, searching for a clue. These are not bondage marks. Fingers. Perhaps… Is she a submissive without hard limits?
He deposited a kiss on each hand, his green eyes bearing down on hers, “One should never mar a woman like you.” A beauty.
“A woman like me?” Her bitter low laugh astounded him. “Mr. MacC-”
“Alistair Connor. Call me Alistair or Alistair Connor, whichever you feel like.”
“I’m not special, Alistair.” She let his name roll off her tongue, tasting it. “No one is special. We’re all equals.” She shook her head and her hair bounced around her. “I’ve had much worse and I don’t break easily.”
Alistair felt his body harden. I would like to break you and have you under my control. He squeezed her hands tenderly before signaling to the waiter. “Red wine?” He looked down the wine list.
She nodded, “Sure.” These British men are all trying to get me drunk during lunch.
“Have you seen the contract?” he asked in a businesslike manner, masking the potent desire taking control of his mind and body. This woman is bad news.
She nodded and sipped her water, licking her lips.
His cock twisted. Control yourself, Alistair Connor!
“I’ve approved it. I thank you, Mr. Mac- Alistair. The clauses were modified exactly as I had envisioned them.”
The sommelier brought a Quinta do Vale do Meão, a Portuguese wine, he tasted it and served it to Alistair. “Excellent, thank you.”
She looked at his big hand handling the delicate stem of the crystal glass. Her lips twisted. Elegant, large with long fingers; surgeon’s hands, firm and precise.
“What’s so amusing?” he asked as the sommelier left them.
Sophia blinked. He had caught her daydreaming about his hands… She raised her eyes to his face. He observed her closely. “If I didn’t know you worked in a bank, I’d say you were a doctor.”