On an impulse he didn’t stop to analyze, he said, “Let’s go somewhere for dinner. I’ll bring you back after we’ve eaten.”
Angie turned to him in apparent surprise. “Dinner?” she repeated rather blankly.
“Yes, dinner,” he repeated, his mouth quirking into a smile. “You know—food?”
He wasn’t at all pleased with the look that came into her violet eyes. He would almost call it panic. He knew before she spoke that she was going to refuse. “Thank you for offering,” she said with careful courtesy, “but I think I’ll pass tonight, if you don’t mind. It’s been a long day and I’m really tired.”
“Too tired to eat?” he questioned lightly, giving it one more try.
“Too tired to eat out,” she returned. Her hand was already on the door handle.
Rhys conceded defeat for the moment. He wanted some time to think about the look he’d seen in her eyes and to try to decide what it had meant. Why would Angelique be afraid of him? “I’ll walk you to the door.”
“No, thank you,” she said much too quickly. “It’s really not necessary.”
He nodded. “All right. Then I’ll see you in the morning—seven forty-five?”
She looked questioningly at him. She always reported to work promptly at eight. “You need me to come in early tomorrow?”
He shook his head patiently. “You have no way to get to the office in the morning, remember? I’ll pick you up at seven forty-five.”
“Oh, you don’t need to do that. I can—”
“I’ll pick you up,” he repeated firmly. “It’s on my way. No trouble at all.”
She moistened her lips, and he fought down an almost overwhelming urge to kiss her until she was forced to acknowledge that the awareness growing stronger all the time between them was not entirely one-sided. He took some satisfaction in knowing that she couldn’t possibly read the impulse in his expression.
Finally she nodded and gave him a rather weak smile. “All right. Seven forty-five, then. Thank you. Good night, Mr.—”
His fingers covered her mouth swiftly, smothering the rest. “Don’t say it,” he warned. “Not unless you’re prepared to take the consequences.”
Her lips were warm, soft and moist beneath his fingers. He felt them tremble. Looking deeply into her widened eyes, he noted that she knew exactly what he threatened. And that some small, reluctant part of her was tempted.
Something else for him to think about during the night.
He pulled his hand away very slowly. “Now, what were you saying?” he asked with a supreme attempt at nonchalance.
She cleared her throat. “Good night, Rhys.”
He smiled his approval. “Good night, Angelique.”
She didn’t bolt from the car to her house. Not exactly, he told himself as he backed out of the driveway after watching until she was safely inside.
Angelique St. Clair was afraid of him, he mused as he lay in bed hours later. Not in the office; she’d never been intimidated by him as an employer. But on a personal level, he scared her to death.
Which had to mean that she was as attracted to him as he was to her. And just as wary of that attraction.
He wasn’t even aware that he was smiling when he finally slipped into sleep.
5
RHYS WAS AMUSED to note the expression on Angie’s face when she answered her door to him the next morning. She couldn’t have looked more coolly professional had she worn a uniform, which she had, in a manner of speaking. Her gray suit was so severe it wouldn’t have been out of place in a convent; her soft gold hair had been pulled so tightly back from her face that her cheekbones looked more prominent than usual. Her chin was squared, her shoulders so straight he could have balanced glasses of water on them.
“Good morning, Angelique.”
Her lashes flickered just perceptibly and then she answered blandly. “Good morning, Rhys.” She stepped out, shutting her door behind her. “Thank you again for picking me up this morning.”
“You’re quite welcome,” he replied smoothly, motioning for her to precede him to the car. He could be equally cool and businesslike, he thought in wry amusement. If this was the way she wanted to play it, he’d go along. For now.