not exactly the most receptive woman I've ever met." The troubled expression on her face worried him, and he softened his tone. "I want us to find out about each other," he said gently. "And we're a topic to be explored in a leisurely manner and with a certain amount of serendipity. Do you know what serendipity is? It's making fortunate discoveries accidentally."
What a line of patter! "I think I'd like another glass of Champagne," she said, refusing to smile at him. She held out her glass.
So she was going to go all frosty on him, was she? He recognized her defense and refused to be daunted by it. There was a way to get around such things, and he knew what it was. It was an unfair tactic at this point, but if she wasn't going to be responsive to the conventional ones, he would have to try another method. He'd gone too far to be rebuffed now.
His eyes found hers and steadied them, and from this connection there grew a meaningfulness that she instantly recognized. No, she thought, this was not the way she intended it to be. She'd always been able to turn men off with a look, a drawing away, a stiffness. It was something she'd learned to do, attractive to men as she was. It was something she had to do to maintain her career as the most important thing in her life. Few men had ever breached this defense, and few men tried.
Drew reached for her glass, and his fingers against hers created a powerful surge of energy that embarrassed her, though she didn't know why. He gave no hint of noticing, however, and merely set both their glasses down on the table in front of them.
And then he was turning to face her, a soft expression playing across his face. His eyes caught hers, swirling her into their depths like a whirlpool from which there was no escape.
"Ah, Cathryn," he was murmuring close to her ear. She had no idea how he had managed to get so close. "There are certain things that we shouldn't leave to serendipity."
His arms went around her, tucking her against him, and she was aware of her own arms sliding around him, feeling the lithe strength of the muscles beneath his shirt. She wasn't ready for this, she told herself. She shouldn't be quivering in the warmth of his arms, waiting without breathing for what was sure to happen. She shouldn't be, but she was.
And then, purposefully, knowing exactly what he was doing, he touched his lips to hers, and it was as though the whole world opened out to pull in the light of the universe. She felt suddenly illuminated, although the room was growing dark, and the light that surged through her was diffracted as though she were a prism flashing rainbows everywhere. The source of the light was part of her, making her feel the difference between the soft, smooth moistness of his lips and the rougher texture of his tongue, and he was kissing her until the rainbows inside her blended and circled and converged in a place she had never known existed.
His hand cupped the back of her head, urging her closer so that she could better taste the sweet tenderness of his mouth. She felt as though she were drowning. She couldn't breathe, nor did she want to.
He was the first to pull away. She opened her eyes, staring up at him, returning from the depths of her rainbow fantasy. Surely he didn't mean to stop, not now.
His hand remained on her neck, softly stroking, disturbing the wispy tendrils. His eyes were lighted with laughter, but not at her. They expressed the joy within him, a joy he had somehow transmitted to her, and she couldn't help but wonder at it.
"I'd prefer to go on kissing you," he said, his breath warm against her skin. "But I think we'd better stop. According to my sense of smell, we've burned the dinner."
Chapter 4
Wearing terry-cloth oven mitts on both hands, Drew plucked the aluminum pans from the oven rack one by one and set them on top of the stove, assessing each one critically.
"They're ruined," said Cathryn, standing by and feeling helpless.
He regarded the
What a line of patter! "I think I'd like another glass of Champagne," she said, refusing to smile at him. She held out her glass.
So she was going to go all frosty on him, was she? He recognized her defense and refused to be daunted by it. There was a way to get around such things, and he knew what it was. It was an unfair tactic at this point, but if she wasn't going to be responsive to the conventional ones, he would have to try another method. He'd gone too far to be rebuffed now.
His eyes found hers and steadied them, and from this connection there grew a meaningfulness that she instantly recognized. No, she thought, this was not the way she intended it to be. She'd always been able to turn men off with a look, a drawing away, a stiffness. It was something she'd learned to do, attractive to men as she was. It was something she had to do to maintain her career as the most important thing in her life. Few men had ever breached this defense, and few men tried.
Drew reached for her glass, and his fingers against hers created a powerful surge of energy that embarrassed her, though she didn't know why. He gave no hint of noticing, however, and merely set both their glasses down on the table in front of them.
And then he was turning to face her, a soft expression playing across his face. His eyes caught hers, swirling her into their depths like a whirlpool from which there was no escape.
"Ah, Cathryn," he was murmuring close to her ear. She had no idea how he had managed to get so close. "There are certain things that we shouldn't leave to serendipity."
His arms went around her, tucking her against him, and she was aware of her own arms sliding around him, feeling the lithe strength of the muscles beneath his shirt. She wasn't ready for this, she told herself. She shouldn't be quivering in the warmth of his arms, waiting without breathing for what was sure to happen. She shouldn't be, but she was.
And then, purposefully, knowing exactly what he was doing, he touched his lips to hers, and it was as though the whole world opened out to pull in the light of the universe. She felt suddenly illuminated, although the room was growing dark, and the light that surged through her was diffracted as though she were a prism flashing rainbows everywhere. The source of the light was part of her, making her feel the difference between the soft, smooth moistness of his lips and the rougher texture of his tongue, and he was kissing her until the rainbows inside her blended and circled and converged in a place she had never known existed.
His hand cupped the back of her head, urging her closer so that she could better taste the sweet tenderness of his mouth. She felt as though she were drowning. She couldn't breathe, nor did she want to.
He was the first to pull away. She opened her eyes, staring up at him, returning from the depths of her rainbow fantasy. Surely he didn't mean to stop, not now.
His hand remained on her neck, softly stroking, disturbing the wispy tendrils. His eyes were lighted with laughter, but not at her. They expressed the joy within him, a joy he had somehow transmitted to her, and she couldn't help but wonder at it.
"I'd prefer to go on kissing you," he said, his breath warm against her skin. "But I think we'd better stop. According to my sense of smell, we've burned the dinner."
Chapter 4
Wearing terry-cloth oven mitts on both hands, Drew plucked the aluminum pans from the oven rack one by one and set them on top of the stove, assessing each one critically.
"They're ruined," said Cathryn, standing by and feeling helpless.
He regarded the
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