No one else would have taken on the challenge of Raleighvale China the way he had, she mused. But that was part of his personality. Ainsley knew he liked the challenge of knowing everyone expected him to fail and then shocking the hell out of them. She had first picked up on that when she’d interviewed him years ago.
“What about you, Ms. Editor-in-Chief? What do you do for fun?”
“Read,” she said.
“Reading? That’s not doing something, Ainsley,” he said.
She shook her head. “You’re wrong. I’ve lived adventures you’ve never dreamed of through the pages of my books. I’ve been places that I wouldn’t be brave enough to travel to.”
“Where?” he asked, still stroking his thumb over her face.
“Somalia. I read a book by a man who’d grown up there and dealt with the violence and danger to the people still living there.”
“I’d have to agree that Somalia is dangerous. Any other place you’re interested in going to? Any place you haven’t been?”
She shrugged. “Well…I haven’t been to Ibiza but have a trip planned there for this summer. I did go to Madrid last summer.”
He laughed. “Everyone goes there to vacation. That hardly sounds daring.”
“I went to see a bullfight,” she said.
“What did you like about it?”
“The pageantry, the excitement. We did a cover story about six months ago…actually it will be on the stands this month. It was about two brothers who were matadors—fifth-generation matadors. These men are rock stars in Spain.
“Does that sound ridiculous?” she asked.
“Not at all. It makes you sound like a very interesting woman. A woman whom I’m very glad to have gotten to know a little better tonight. How long have you been in the UK?” he asked.
“Almost three years,” she said.
“Why did you come here?” he asked.
She struggled now. Outright lying to him might come back to bite her later, but that previous encounter had scared her and shaped her into the woman she was today and she couldn’t regret that.
“For my job.”
“That’s pretty daring,” he said. “Leaving behind your home and your family to come to another country.”
The way he said it made her feel special. As if she were unique to him. And looking into his dark eyes she felt like he was seeing her. Not just her body or her position at the magazine. The fact that Steven liked her for herself—that seduced her more than anything else.
Five
Steven leaned forward and kissed her. It was a soft kiss that felt like it went on for days. He didn’t touch her anywhere but where their mouths met. She felt as if they had all the time in the world, that there were only the two of them and this moment, which would never end.
She kept her eyes open at first because she wanted to see him. His eyes were closed and she felt the intensity in him. But this time it was focused all on her. She closed her own eyes because she didn’t want to see his vulnerability. But even as she did so, she couldn’t help but feel her heart melt a little. No matter how intense or driven Steven seemed, he still had some vulnerabilities.
Soon she didn’t think about anything but the kiss. The way his mouth felt against hers. The taste of him, which was just right. She wanted to experience everything she could of Steven. She wanted to know so much more than the taste of his mouth on hers. She wanted to feel his hands around her waist again. To have him pull her closer.
He lifted his head up and she took a moment to compose herself before she opened her eyes. She didn’t want to be any more vulnerable to him than she already was and she certainly didn’t want him to glimpse her vulnerability.
She rested her head against the wall and opened her eyes. He was staring down at her, those hawklike eyes assessing her.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“That no other woman has ever tasted as good as you,” he said.
She felt overwhelmed by this comment. They were traveling the same path in so many ways. This man—Steven Devonshire—could be more to her than a date…“I was thinking the same thing.”
“That I kiss like a woman?” he asked.
She laughed and the intensity of the moment was broken. She knew it was for the best because it showed her exactly where Steven was in his thinking. And it kept her from thinking that this was more than it was.
They’d had dinner and now he was trying to score. At the end of the day she had to remember that this was Steven Devonshire, the man who’d left her in ruins. He was more dangerous to her than a seven-layer chocolate cake, because she could exercise off the effects of a choco-binge but she couldn’t fix her battered emotions nearly as easily.