All kinds of scenarios of how they could get started smoked through his mind. Beginning with lifting her nightshirt and finding out about that ruby once and for all. Then he’d slide his hands through her silken hair, bring those bare, kissable lips to his and…
‘Here’s the funeral attendees’book.’ Her brisk voice broke his train of thought as she slapped it on the table. She reached for some handwritten notes stuck to the fridge with a souvenir magnet from San Francisco. She sat down again, spreading the papers in front of her. ‘These are the people you might want to thank. They’re mostly business associates.’
He had to ask. ‘You said you two were friends, Kate. What did that mean?’
She raised her eyes to his. ‘Exactly what it sounds like. We used to have a kind of standing date for Friday nights,’ she continued after a moment. ‘We talked over the week’s business in more pleasant surroundings. Our relationship was only ever purely professional.’
He nodded, somehow relieved. ‘Let me guess—same time, same place?’
She let out a half-laugh. ‘Yes.’
He nodded. That was good old Bryce—predictable.
‘It saved time.’ She shrugged. ‘I knew him a long while.’
By the time they were done more than an hour had passed. Kate had been conscious of Damon’s molten amber gaze on her all evening. It made her wonder if it was because he recognised her from Saturday night. It certainly wasn’t for the wild look she was wearing this evening. But she could hardly ask him about it, could she?
Without looking at him she shuffled her notes into a tidy pile. ‘Here you go.’
‘Thanks.’
He reached across the table and put a hand on hers. A sparkle of heat shot up her arm but before she could pull it away his fingers were stroking her wrist, his thumb rasping over the pulse point that suddenly beat like a drum.
She forced her eyes to his. ‘I hope it helps.’ Her neck prickled with heat. ‘The information, I mean.’
‘I know what you mean.’ He smiled. He still had hold of her hand.
She didn’t move. He hadn’t touched her—deliberately touched her, unless she counted the restraining hand this morning—since Saturday night. His eyes looked right into hers and for a moment she thought he was going to remind her of that, but instead he withdrew his hand.
‘I’d better be off and let you get some sleep,’ he said, and pushed up. ‘Don’t forget to try the oils.’
‘I won’t. Thank you.’
He nodded, then turned and walked to her door. ‘I won’t be in tomorrow morning. I’ve got to see the solicitor and sort through Bryce’s stuff.’
She couldn’t resist a terse, ‘I’m sure we’ll manage without you.’
He grinned. ‘I’m sure you will. Kate…’ his grin sobered ‘…you’ve been doing a great job there. Thank you.’
She needed to say, had to say, ‘Bryce intended making me manager. Next month.’
‘He was leaving?’
‘I don’t know what he intended. He hadn’t told me anything more than he was taking some time off.’
Damon’s brows drew together. ‘We’ve got some decisions to make. I’ll need your staffing knowledge and expertise.’
What the heck did that mean? At this point all she could do was nod a reluctant acceptance.
‘Good night, Kate.’ He hesitated on the step.
His cologne teased her nostrils. Oh, my God, was he going to kiss her? She didn’t realise she’d stepped back until his bronze eyes flashed in the reflected light from the hall. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing.’
His eyes narrowed, as if he was trying to figure her out. He was being a gentleman, unlike the bad boy she’d experienced Saturday night, making it hard for her to reconcile the two. Or more like he was just being the businessman and she was the only one with sex on her mind.
A flush rose to her cheeks and she tucked her hands beneath her armpits. ‘Goodnight.’
She closed the door the moment he left and leaned back against it. She heard a car door shut, the smooth purr of a well-tuned engine, then listened as the sound faded.
Only then did she breathe the sigh she’d held inside for the past few moments. He’d been nice this evening, not the take-charge guy in the office this morning. He’d brought her pizza and his grandma’s recipe. What kind of man thought to bring a girl he barely knew something like that? Something of himself. The same kind who’d have sex with a girl he didn’t know?
But men could compartmentalise their lives. Especially where sex was concerned. She only had to think of her ex-fiancé. She’d never trust a man again. Nor did she think she could trust her own judgement again. One mistake was enough.