Mr. Temptation

She sucked the inside of her lip, forcing her body to relax as she lowered herself into the seat and let him close the door for her, cocooning her in all that was luxury. She feasted on every alluring detail, using it to distract from the race inside. She brushed her fingertips over the exquisite leather, tracing the lines in the embroidered trim, the curve to the centre console and dashboard—sweet.

He pulled open the door on his side and she brought her hands onto her lap, placing them atop the tablet and telling herself to behave.

He dropped into his seat, his grin building anew, and set the engine going. ‘I’m glad you approve. You can take her for a spin later.’

Her eyes snapped to his, excitement urging her to say yes, but, ‘I wouldn’t want to risk pranging it.’

‘I trust you.’

His simple statement warmed her through. He made her feel too good, too easily.

‘Do you want to plug the postcode into the satnav while I get us out of the city?’

‘Sure.’ That gave her something to do, something to concentrate on other than the confusing dance going on inside her.

One hand on the wheel, he used his other to launch the system and all she could do was watch the hypnotic ripple across the back of his hand, his fingers moving deftly over the joystick and reminding her of the other talents they possessed. Talents that involved working her to the brink, regardless of their surroundings. Like in the restaurant when she’d wanted him to go a whole load further than the tip of her thigh—

‘She’s all yours.’

‘Huh?’ She almost leapt; if not for her fiercely pinned hands on her lap, she was sure she would have done.

He raised his brow, his eyes laughing at her. ‘The satnav...’

‘Oh, yes, sure.’ She could feel the heat spread through her cheeks, an outward reflection of her inner fire, she was sure, and pinned her sights on the equipment and very much off him.

She fumbled over the postcode, both fingers and eyes refusing to do as she bid. She blamed it on his proximity, on his scent. So close, his aftershave engulfed her senses, so near, the heat of his body called to her.

‘It takes some getting used to,’ he remarked.

‘Huh?’

God, do you have to keep making that noise?

‘The controls.’

‘Yeah, sure, almost done,’ she mumbled, finally getting it and settling back into her seat, her hands back in her lap as a woman’s voice invaded the cabin with its first instruction. She checked the display—eighty-two minutes to destination.

They were going to be the longest, most teasing eighty-two minutes of her life.

‘So, you get your love of cars from your father?’ He looked across at her briefly, his eyes colliding with hers as her pulse skidded off.

He remembered!

Don’t go all soft. It wasn’t that long ago you told him.

She smoothed a steadying hand through her hair and nodded, thinking on the familiar and the calming territory his words had inspired.

‘I do, he’s race-mad, it’s high-speed motor racing all the way for him.’

She smiled as she remembered the numerous arguments her parents had had over family holidays. Her mother pushing for the Caribbean, her father insisting on Monaco, and the compromise position they always got to: a nice family holiday abroad that didn’t quite get them all the way to the Caribbean but kept them all happy, and the British Grand Prix at Silverstone.

Still, she’d give Dad his dream one of these days and get him to Monaco. She would, of course, have to go too, just to make sure it lived up to expectations.

‘Why the smile?’ He was looking at her, a peculiar glint to his eye, and then his attention was back on the road and leaving no indication as to what he was thinking.

‘My dream is to take him to Monaco, do the whole thing properly, you know? I almost had it all arranged for last year.’

She stopped. The direction in which she was heading too personal and bringing back memories she really wanted to do without.