y.
Alex made herself more comfortable. ‘Naturally they didn’t approve of it and I very rarely indulge in it, but thanks to my father I can distinguish between the good and the bad.’
Max Goodwin watched her with a frown in his eyes. ‘You have—’ he paused ‘—an innate composure about you, Alex. I guess that comes from living in a Diplomatic Corps environment.’
She shrugged. ‘It could.’ She looked at him with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. ‘Does that mean I passed more than one test tonight?’ she teased.
Max Goodwin rubbed his jaw. ‘You certainly did.’ He got up and pulled his jacket off, loosened his tie and stretched.
‘So,’ he said, ‘we have the formal luncheon tomorrow, down on the Gold Coast—I have a house there—and then you’ll have a three-day break as the negotiations get going in earnest. I—’ He looked down at her. ‘What’s wrong?’
Alex swallowed and told herself fiercely she’d never speak to herself again if she blushed like a schoolgirl. Because the fact of the matter was, the sight of Max Goodwin stretching had affected her rather drastically.
The lean, compact muscles of his chest were etched beneath the fine cotton of his shirt. His diaphragm was as flat as a board and she’d been assaulted by the aroma of pure man, and found it heady and delicious. Not only that, she’d been assaulted by a mental vision of Max Goodwin naked and powerful, tanned and with springy dark hair …
‘Nothing,’ she said, but it came out as an indistinct sound and she had to clear her throat. ‘Nothing. Uh—I hadn’t thought about how I’d get to the Gold Coast tomorrow.’ She stood up herself, still horrified and a little desperate to get away.
‘You’re coming with me and I’ll bring you home after it. Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?’ He frowned at her.
‘Quite sure.’ She was still clutching her champagne glass so she took a fortifying sip of champagne, praying she wouldn’t choke on it. But as she looked up their gazes clashed and she felt trapped, unable to tear herself away from that deep blue of his eyes and unable to still the beating of her pulses.
You’re lying again, Ms Hill, Max Goodwin thought as he stared at her, at the pulse beating rapidly at the base of her creamy throat. Then his gaze moved down the slim, lovely length of her that had come as such a surprise to him and he found himself stirred physically against all expectations.
But why against all expectations? he asked himself. She was drop-dead gorgeous, like a beautiful butterfly who’d emerged from her chrysalis. She was enough to make any man want to run his fingers through her hair and drink in the perfume of her skin, but she was also different from the usual glamorous, socialite types that caught his eye.
He had no doubt she was a rather amazing mix of talent, intelligence, but also humour. She was independent and not above pointing out the error of his ways to him.
All of which intrigued him as well as awakening a tremor of desire in him, the desire to take her by surprise and take her in his arms. The desire to stop any protests by kissing her, the desire to know how she’d react because he couldn’t predict it.
An enigma, he mused as he pushed his hands into his pockets to be on the safe side. There was no way he could allow himself to touch her at this point in time. What was he even thinking? Sheer insanity?
But what had upset her out of the blue moments ago? And why was she looking up at him now with her lips parted and a little pulse still beating rapidly at the base of her throat, those clear, lovely hazel eyes wide and startled and something else, almost as if she shared this highly unexpected attraction, almost as if it was a two-way thing sizzling between them—
There was a soft rap on the door and Margaret put her head around it.
‘Mr Goodwin,’ she said, ‘a rather urgent matter has come up.’
Alex came to life and said hastily, ‘I’ll go.’
‘No,’ he said decisively. ‘Finish your drink and in the meantime we’ll organize a lift for you. Lead on, Margaret.’ He went out and closed the door behind him.
Alex breathed heavily in relief, then she did blush as she sank back onto the settee. She could feel the amazing heat of it as she put a hand to her cheek and she touched her glass to both cheeks to cool them down.
What had got into her? she wondered chaotically.
She’d never mentally undressed a man in her life before! It was enough to make you blush hectically, just the thought of it—and she swallowed nearly two thirds of a glass of champagne in one long mouthful as she thought of it again.
Then she breathed deeply, put the empty glass down and laid her head back. Max Goodwin got to her, she acknowledged. He sent her senses reeling in a very physical way and he destabilized her peace of mind.
She lifted her head suddenly. She could not afford to let this get out of control, she reflected. On one hand, could a man who’d regarded her legs as a cause for annoyance be attracted to her?
But on the other hand, what had been going through his mind while he’d stared at her so intently? Almost as if they’d both been caught in a sensual little moment that had blotted out the rest of the world—or had it been her imagination?
She stared unseeingly across the room for a long moment, then shook herself. Most likely, she decided, but with a frown of confusion. Then it occurred to her to ask herself whether, even if she couldn’t be sure it hadn’t been a mutual sensual little moment, it made any difference to the fact that she was basically a loner?
She looked down at her hands and thought of her parents, whom she hadn’t even had the opportunity to farewell. She also thought of her father’s cousin, her Mother Superior, and how that stern, prickly but lovable woman had also been taken from her, and felt tears on her lashes.
She thought of the few occasions she’d got to know men she’d admired, men it might have been possible to fall in love with—only to withdraw.