Sweet Surrender with the Millionaire

‘You mean with answers to questions like, “Does my bum look big in this?”’ he replied lazily, to put her at ease, even as he thought, What the hell did her husband do to her to make her so sceptical? She wasn’t like this before him, he’d bet money on it.

‘Exactly.’

Once outside he nodded at the Harley parked across the other side of the lane. ‘Hope you don’t mind the mode of transport, but it won’t be long and this beauty will be consigned to the garage if we get the sort of floods we got last year during the winter.’

She didn’t answer this directly, saying instead as they walked over to the motorbike, ‘What sort of car have you got?’

‘Cars, plural. An Aston Martin and a Range-Rover.’ But you won’t have to hold onto me in those and I wouldn’t feel your body pressed against mine. His eyes glittering, he gave her the spare helmet he’d brought with him and then helped her up behind him. She smelled gorgeous, some flowery thing with undertones he couldn’t put a name to but which made his body harden. ‘OK? Hold on tight.’ Real tight, don’t be shy.

He turned briefly to smile at her before he switched on the engine and her voice sounded breathless when she said, ‘I’m not used to riding on a motorbike. How far away is the pub?’

‘Not too far.’ Unfortunately.

In fact it was ten minutes, being in the next village, the winding lanes that twisted and curved making it far longer than the crow flew and imposing their own speed limit. The pub was a pretty little thatched affair, complete with brasses and narrow mullioned windows and solid oak furniture.Having secured comfy seats by the big open fireplace in which a blazing fire roared, Morgan fetched two halves of beer and the menus.

‘Warmer?’ He took a long swallow of his beer, looking at her over the rim of his glass. She looked good enough to eat.

She nodded, her gaze not holding his but dropping to the menu in her hand as she said, ‘Much. And starving too.’

They were seated at a table for two, so close he could reach out and touch her if he wanted to. And he wanted to, he acknowledged silently. But he didn’t. ‘The pan-fried crispy pork with red-onion gravy is seriously good here,’ he said conversationally. ‘But the steaks are great too. Local butcher. But perhaps you’d prefer fish or a risotto?’

‘The pork sounds lovely.’ She tucked her hair behind her ears as she spoke, the movement not so much wary as guarded. He wondered if she ever let that guard down. Whatever, Willow Landon was one hard female to get to know, but, remembering that burning kiss and the way it had shook him up, it would be worth the trouble. Nothing worth having came easy.

Madness. The word resonated as it bounced round his head. This was madness and he knew it, so why had he asked her out tonight when this had every chance of ending badly?

He knew why. He wanted to make love to her more than he’d wanted to make love to a woman for a long, long time. There was a gnawing hunger inside him for her body, which had been with him since he’d first met her, and it was damn uncomfortable. If he took her to bed then maybe it would assuage the primal need and she’d stop featuring in his dreams every night.

That being the case, why wasn’t he going all out to weaken her defences? another part of his mind asked caustically. He’d had enough experience with women to know the right buttons to press, for crying out loud. It was all part of the mating game.

Because Willow was different.

An alarm went off in his mind, causing him to raise his head with a jerk as a waitress appeared at their table for their order. He raised one eyebrow to Willow. ‘The pork?’ And at her nod, said to the waitress, ‘Make that two.’

‘This is nice.’ She glanced round the pub as she spoke, her voice warm. ‘Do you come here often?’

‘Usually just the odd weekend when Kitty and Jim go to visit relatives in the north-east. Kitty always leaves meals she’s prepared, but it’s the putting it in the oven and getting it out at the right time I fall down on. I tend to work and invariably the meal’s cremated by the time I remember.’

‘She’s very fond of you, isn’t she?’ She smiled warmly.

‘As am I of her and Jim. We rub along together fairly well.’

She nodded. ‘They’re nice people, what my father would have called salt of the earth.’

The fact that it really mattered that she liked Kitty and Jim was another warning shot across his bows, but again he chose to ignore it. Lifting one ankle to rest it across the opposite knee, he settled back in his seat. ‘Tell me about your father,’ he said quietly. ‘Were you close to him and your mother?’