‘That’s sounds like a good little money-spinner for you.’
Poppy averted her gaze as she popped the DVD back in its case and clicked it shut. ‘I wasn’t expecting you back tonight. I thought you’d make the most of the nightlife in London while you were there.’
‘After my meeting I had a quiet beer with my middle brother, Raoul.’
‘So, no hot date or shallow pick-up?’
‘No.’
‘You must be losing your touch.’
His look was unreadable. ‘That’s what my brother said.’
There was a little silence.
‘You do charge people for cooking those extras, don’t you?’ he asked.
Poppy blew out a little breath. ‘I always say I’m going to...’
‘But you’re trying to run a business, for God’s sake,’ he said. ‘Your goal is to make a profit. That should be your focus, not trying to be everyone’s best friend.’
‘I know, I know. Do you think I haven’t been told this a hundred times?’
‘Do you want me to help you?’ he asked. ‘I can have a look over your books. I can see where the leaky holes are and put the necessary plugs in place. You won’t have to lose any sleep or friends over it.’
She looked up at him gratefully. ‘Would you do that?’
He gave her a slow smile that made her legs go weak. ‘I’d be glad to.’
Another little silence fell between them.
Poppy hugged her elbows with her crossed over arms. ‘It’s been funny being here tonight—funny weird, not funny hilarious.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I spent so much of my childhood here, right in this room. Lord Dalrymple let Gran and me use it. He said it was because the television reception was better here than at the dower house, but I think he liked having us around in the background.’ She gave a little sigh. ‘This is the first time I’ve been in here since Gran died.’
He came over and placed his hands gently on the tops of her shoulders. ‘I should’ve realised it might be tough coming back here. I should have postponed my meeting and stayed with you.’
Poppy looked up into his deep, dark eyes. He was standing very close; close enough to smell the citrus base of his aftershave and the hint of late-in-the-day male sweat that was equally intoxicating. ‘I don’t need babysitting.’
A corner of his mouth lifted in a wry smile. ‘So says the pint-sized girl who’s wearing pink teddy-bear pyjamas, and hippopotamus slippers on her feet.’ One of his hands moved from her shoulder to cup the nape of her neck. ‘Which should be enough to stop me doing this.’
She swallowed. ‘Doing...what?’
His mouth came down towards hers. ‘I think you know what.’
‘I thought you said you didn’t want to...?’
He pressed a soft-as-air kiss to her lips. It barely touched her but it set every nerve longing for more. ‘I want to,’ he said in a rough, sexy tone. ‘I want to very much. I’ve thought of nothing but you the whole time I was in London. How you taste, how you smell, how you feel.’
Poppy’s breath hitched on something sharp in her chest as his mouth came back down to hers. The kiss was longer this time and deeper. She felt the first brush-stroke of his tongue against her mouth and her spine liquefied. She opened to him on a little whimper of approval, her hands winding up around his neck, her body pressing closer to the hard warmth of his.
His tongue played with hers, cajoling it into a dance that was brazenly erotic. He moulded her to him, his hands pressing against her bottom to hold her against his aroused body. He felt so thick and strong pulsing there against her neediness. The empty, achy feeling inside her was almost unbearable, especially when the answer to it was so temptingly close.
He broke the kiss to move his lips down to the side of her neck where a thousand nerves were trembling in anticipation. ‘You should tell me to stop before this gets out of hand.’
‘What if I don’t want you to stop?’ She angled her neck to give him better access.
He framed her face in his hands, looking deep into her passion-glazed eyes. ‘I could hurt you.’
Her heart kicked against her ribcage at the concern in his gaze. ‘I’m sure you won’t.’
He leaned his forehead against hers, his warm breath mingling intimately with hers. ‘This is crazy...’ He drew in a breath as if to steady himself. ‘Everything about this is crazy.’