He gave a slight shrug. ‘Investments,’ he replied.
He had said the word carelessly, but there was something in the timbre of his voice that was edged like a blade. Talia’s eyes flickered uncertainly.
‘You must be good at it,’ she observed, her eyes slipping to the custom-made watch around his lean wrist.
He saw her glance at it. ‘A present to myself today,’ he said dryly.
‘A very nice one!’ Talia murmured, even more dryly. ‘Is it your birthday?’
‘Better,’ he replied, taking another mouthful of his drink. ‘I’ve just achieved something I’ve worked towards for more than ten years, and it’s going to be a sweet, sweet moment.’
There was that same edge to his voice again, but it was more intense now. Almost...unnerving.
Not a man to cross.
‘You sound very driven,’ she heard herself say.
His expression stilled. ‘Driven? Oh, yes...’ For a moment he seemed to be looking far away, then abruptly his gaze refocused on her. ‘So, what brings you here tonight, Talia?’
The unsettling note in his voice had gone and now there was only...invitation. Invitation in the sweep of his lashes, the slight but distinct relaxing of his pose as he helped himself to another mouthful of his drink.
She shrugged. ‘What brings anyone to a party?’ she countered.
That sweep of his lashes came again, as if her answer amused him. ‘Do you want me to answer that?’ he challenged.
Unspoken between them was the answer already. The reason so many people went to parties was to see and be seen. And to hook up...
She gave a little shake of her head, dipping it slightly to take a sip from her glass. Then, as if the wine had emboldened her, she glanced back at him. ‘Is that why you’re here?’
This time his lashes did not sweep down. This time his gaze was level on her. ‘Perhaps,’ he murmured.
His gaze lingered, telling her just why he had said that. She felt heat flush through her. Heat she was not used to. Heat that might burn her.
This is going too fast! I should back away, mingle...
But he was speaking again, draining his glass and setting it back on the counter. His eyes washed over her, and as they did so all the caution in her evaporated. She felt her pulse surge, her cheeks flush, her lips part. A heady sense of freedom—of what that freedom might offer her—was vivid within her. What this man had she didn’t know. She only knew that never, ever in her life had she encountered it or experienced the impact he was having on her.
And she could not—would not—resist it.
Whatever is happening, I want it to happen!
‘But one thing I am certain of,’ she heard him say, and there was that glint in his eye that told her just how certain he was, ‘is that tonight calls for champagne!’
He turned to the barman and instantly two flutes were presented to them, sparkling gently. Talia took one, feeling again that heady surge in her veins.
‘Is this a toast to your “sweet, sweet moment”?’ she asked, lifting her glass to him, a smile flashing in her own eyes now, as they met his boldly.
For a second his hand stayed, and then he lifted his own glass to her.
‘To even more,’ he said.
The message was unmistakable, and it told her just what ‘even more’ would be.
And in her eyes was the answer she was giving him...
* * *
Luke lay, one arm behind his head, the other around Talia’s slender waist. Her long hair swathed his chest and her breath was warm on his shoulder as she slept in his embrace. Sweet God, had there ever been a night in his life like this?