her coffee.
He shrugged. “You don’t get me cheap.” He leaned back a little, a hint of devilment entering his eyes. “But I’ve had no complaints so far.” He looked all male and devastatingly sexy. Her reaction was predictable, and irksome, but she hid it, putting her coffee cup carefully back in its saucer.
He probably couldn’t help himself. He had an innateresponse to…well, to any half-decent-looking female, she assumed. Some men were like that.
There were film stars, singers, sportsmen, who had the same power to draw women effortlessly into their orbit. Partly as a result of fame and good looks, but there was something else, some indefinable quality that gave them an edge over other men.
Whatever it was, Jase Moore had it in spades.
He said, studying her with a slightly barbed meditative look, “Did you ask Bryn onto your board just to spite me?”
Samantha raised her brows, coolly derisive. “I asked him because he was the obvious candidate.” Her hand curled about her cup.
“So you did what’s best for your business.” His voice was dry.
“And I trust him…as a good friend.”
His eyes searched her face, the expression in them seemingly made up of part anger, part suspicion and possibly—making her instantly defensive—part concern. “A friend. And you’re okay with that?”
“Of course,” she answered curtly.
He was still regarding her with that disconcertingly perceptive stare. Finally he said in a flat tone, “Then you were never really in love with him.”
“I never said I was,” she answered, her voice very even and only slightly acerbic. “That was your…fantasy.”
“Uh-huh.” Disbelief coloured his voice, lurked in his eyes. He still didn’t buy her disclaimer. “Speaking of fantasies…”
He stopped there and looked down, closing his hand about the coffee cup. Samantha said, “What?”
Jase raised his head. “You don’t want to know.”
But the renewed gleam in his eyes, the wry smile on hismouth, gave her a clue. For a moment their eyes held, and a peculiar feeling invaded her midriff.
The man had no right to indulge in fantasies about her.
She reminded herself, picking up her cup and sipping at it, that while he might have a physical reaction to her appearance, it didn’t mean he liked her as a person. She put down the cup and returned a carefully dispassionate gaze, her tone intentionally mocking. “ That lurid?”
He laughed. “Not lurid at all,” he said. “Surprisingly…innocent. I saw a little girl, pale and pretty and not quite sure of herself. Lonely, maybe. Wistful. Longing for…something. Something she was afraid she’d never have, but was more important to her than anything.”
Samantha felt her mouth dry, and her cheeks grow cold.
Her tongue slipped over her lips, but the moisture only lasted a second. Drawing a deep breath, she tried to steady the whirling in her head. He’d been right when he said she didn’t want to hear this. How could he know more about her than she did herself? In the Middle Ages he’d have been burned at the stake. “That’s…” Her voice cracked and she tried again. “That’s quite an imagination you have.”
A strange expression flitted across his face. He picked up his cup and drained it.
Samantha swallowed, trying to ensure her voice had returned to normal. “I’m ready to go.”
He nodded, not commenting on her still almost full cup. Then he studied her for a second. “Are you okay?”
She raised her brows. “Of course.”
When she took out her credit card he protested, but gave in when she said he was a guest of Magnussen’s and that of course it would go on the company account.
Outside, the downpour had abated a little, but the lowering clouds had turned black and the light was dim, ozone sharpening the air.
Standing under the canopy outside the restaurant, Samantha turned to Jase. “Are you coming back to the office?”
He shook his head. “I’d like to get to my computer
He shrugged. “You don’t get me cheap.” He leaned back a little, a hint of devilment entering his eyes. “But I’ve had no complaints so far.” He looked all male and devastatingly sexy. Her reaction was predictable, and irksome, but she hid it, putting her coffee cup carefully back in its saucer.
He probably couldn’t help himself. He had an innateresponse to…well, to any half-decent-looking female, she assumed. Some men were like that.
There were film stars, singers, sportsmen, who had the same power to draw women effortlessly into their orbit. Partly as a result of fame and good looks, but there was something else, some indefinable quality that gave them an edge over other men.
Whatever it was, Jase Moore had it in spades.
He said, studying her with a slightly barbed meditative look, “Did you ask Bryn onto your board just to spite me?”
Samantha raised her brows, coolly derisive. “I asked him because he was the obvious candidate.” Her hand curled about her cup.
“So you did what’s best for your business.” His voice was dry.
“And I trust him…as a good friend.”
His eyes searched her face, the expression in them seemingly made up of part anger, part suspicion and possibly—making her instantly defensive—part concern. “A friend. And you’re okay with that?”
“Of course,” she answered curtly.
He was still regarding her with that disconcertingly perceptive stare. Finally he said in a flat tone, “Then you were never really in love with him.”
“I never said I was,” she answered, her voice very even and only slightly acerbic. “That was your…fantasy.”
“Uh-huh.” Disbelief coloured his voice, lurked in his eyes. He still didn’t buy her disclaimer. “Speaking of fantasies…”
He stopped there and looked down, closing his hand about the coffee cup. Samantha said, “What?”
Jase raised his head. “You don’t want to know.”
But the renewed gleam in his eyes, the wry smile on hismouth, gave her a clue. For a moment their eyes held, and a peculiar feeling invaded her midriff.
The man had no right to indulge in fantasies about her.
She reminded herself, picking up her cup and sipping at it, that while he might have a physical reaction to her appearance, it didn’t mean he liked her as a person. She put down the cup and returned a carefully dispassionate gaze, her tone intentionally mocking. “ That lurid?”
He laughed. “Not lurid at all,” he said. “Surprisingly…innocent. I saw a little girl, pale and pretty and not quite sure of herself. Lonely, maybe. Wistful. Longing for…something. Something she was afraid she’d never have, but was more important to her than anything.”
Samantha felt her mouth dry, and her cheeks grow cold.
Her tongue slipped over her lips, but the moisture only lasted a second. Drawing a deep breath, she tried to steady the whirling in her head. He’d been right when he said she didn’t want to hear this. How could he know more about her than she did herself? In the Middle Ages he’d have been burned at the stake. “That’s…” Her voice cracked and she tried again. “That’s quite an imagination you have.”
A strange expression flitted across his face. He picked up his cup and drained it.
Samantha swallowed, trying to ensure her voice had returned to normal. “I’m ready to go.”
He nodded, not commenting on her still almost full cup. Then he studied her for a second. “Are you okay?”
She raised her brows. “Of course.”
When she took out her credit card he protested, but gave in when she said he was a guest of Magnussen’s and that of course it would go on the company account.
Outside, the downpour had abated a little, but the lowering clouds had turned black and the light was dim, ozone sharpening the air.
Standing under the canopy outside the restaurant, Samantha turned to Jase. “Are you coming back to the office?”
He shook his head. “I’d like to get to my computer
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