And by “good time” she meant the statuesque, gorgeous redhead he’d been seated next to at dinner. The ear whisperer. When she’d left the reception area for the coat check, Sophie had been unable to not take note of Joshua. And he’d stood on the rim of the dance floor, the other woman plastered to his side closer than ninety-nine was to a hundred. God, she sounded bitchy to her own self.
“Were you watching me, Sophie?” he murmured, that dark-as-sin voice dipping lower, stroking her skin in a smoky caress.
“Were you watching me, Joshua?” she volleyed back, just as quietly.
They stared at one another, the challenge they’d lobbied between them vibrating. The air thickened, taut with the tension emanating from their bodies.
“Come home with me.”
The request edged with demand struck her in the chest. She locked her knees, but that only prevented her from falling onto her ass. It didn’t prevent her mentally wheeling and sprawling in shock. She blinked up at him, felt her eyes widening, and her lips parted on a gasp she couldn’t contain.
“What?” she breathed.
“Come home with me,” he repeated in that slightly impatient tone that hummed with notes of frustration, anger and even surprise. But not directed at her. Through her rapidly ebbing surprise, she suspected all that emotion was aimed at himself. “I’ll take you back to Falling Brook, but come home with me first. We need a place where we can talk openly...privately.”
“About what?” she questioned, her heart racing for and nestling in her throat.
“About business that is just between us,” he replied, purposefully vague, she suspected. Here, in front of the Guggenheim and anyone walking the Manhattan streets, he wouldn’t be more specific than that.
She studied him, her grip tight on her sequined clutch. Alone with Joshua. For possibly hours. Her mind—and common sense—balked. Absolutely not. The last time they’d been together, within feet of Main Street, he’d shown her the real purpose of her mouth. To mate with his. What would happen without the chance of prying eyes catching them? Without the constraints of being in public? He would probably be able to maintain his intimidating control, but her? She wouldn’t advise any Vegas high rollers place bets on her. This man was proving to be her weakness, the chink in her professional and personal armor, and getting close enough to let him chip away more was lunacy.
Yet... She stared into his eyes. And almost glanced away from the coolness there. But at the last second, she looked deeper. And caught the shadows of need, of...loneliness. Both echoed within her, and something inside her reacted to them. Reached for them. For him.
Instinctively, she stepped back and away from him. To protect herself. But not from him. Herself. It’d been this same longing to soothe, to please, to be loved that had led her down the wrong path before. With Laurence, she’d been blind. But now, her eyes were wide-open to who and what Joshua was. And if she traveled this road, she would have only herself to blame for the catastrophic results to her career, her integrity, her heart. And God, she harbored zero doubts he would decimate her heart, leaving not even ashes behind.
“Come with me, Sophie,” he murmured, holding out a hand to her as the valet pulled to the curb in a sleek black sports car that even her limited knowledge identified as an Aston Martin.
She stared at that palm with fascination, yearning and trepidation. Yes, she wanted him—what was the point in lying about the plain, bald-faced truth? But her body didn’t rule her. Not anymore. If he intended to discuss her help on the paternity issue, they definitely couldn’t do it out here on the sidewalk where anyone could overhear. And, her inner reporter chimed in, if he went off the record with her before, maybe he would agree to going back on and be willing to let her get that interview he’d denied her for the original story. Her deadline for the follow-up article was fast approaching.
And maybe she was just trying to justify her reasons for unwisely accepting his invite.
“Okay,” she said quietly, slipping her hand over his and locking down the shiver that wanted to ripple through her as his fingers wrapped around hers. “But just for a couple of hours.”
He nodded, his intense perusal scanning her face, then dipping down her body before returning to her eyes. Without a word, he escorted her to his waiting car. Within moments, she was tucked against the sinfully luxurious leather seat with Joshua behind the wheel. When he pulled away from the curb and merged with the moderate traffic, she couldn’t help but admire the expert manner in how he handled the vehicle. A begrudging but warm throb settled just under her navel. If the man wielded such control over this four-thousand-pound rocket, how much would he exert in other places? Or... What would he look like if he loosened the reins on it?
Not my business, she informed herself with a mental sneer. Turning her attention to her phone, she called the car service back and canceled her ride. Then she settled back against the seat for the forty-five-minute ride back to Falling Brook. Other than asking her if the air was too cold and if she was comfortable, they barely uttered a word. But it didn’t matter. The screaming tension crowded into the car with them did most of the speaking.
By the time he guided the car into the underground parking lot of a tall brick apartment building, she practically vibrated with the strain of fighting the desire coiled so tight within her and pretending as if he didn’t affect her. Business. This was about the article. About their side investigation. She could keep it professional, because that was who she was.
Pep talk delivered, she didn’t wait for him to
