‘Then I’ll walk you to it.’
And even though he made her feel nervy and on edge, to say nothing of what he did to her internal organs, as it was late and undoubtedly dark and deserted on the street and she wasn’t an idiot, Abby nodded and smiled, and said, ‘That would be kind. Thank you.’
CHAPTER FOUR
WHATEVER IT WAS that he was feeling, thought Leo, watching Abby get to her feet with a faint wince, and striding forwards to pick up her coat from the chair it was currently draped over, it wasn’t kind.
Part of him felt relief. In contrast to the last time they’d spoken the conversation they’d just had had gone better than he’d expected. He might have spent the last hour or so pacing around the lobby of the hotel driving himself nuts with thoughts of how difficult she could make things for them if she wanted, while he waited for her to finish so he could catch her alone, but thankfully there hadn’t been a problem.
He needn’t have worried because conversationally he’d actually got off very lightly indeed. Apologising again had been a breeze. Explaining had only been mildly uncomfortable. And he hadn’t even had to go into too much detail about why this time of year always set him on edge because to his surprise—and relief—Abby had bought his pretty flimsy excuses.
Physically, though, well, that was an entirely different story because he hadn’t got off lightly at all. He’d thought he’d had it tough when he’d been watching her dancing earlier and had been filled with the ridiculous urge to shove Jake aside and take over. He’d thought feeling winded and dazed after just a look had been bad enough.
But that had been nothing compared to what had happened around five minutes ago when their eyes had met and held and held and held.
That had been downright freaky because on contact time had seemed to stand absolutely still. He’d felt his entire body jolt and he could have sworn the ground rocked beneath his feet. His mouth had gone dry, his pulse had gone into overdrive and his head had spun.
Feeling totally adrift mentally as well as physically, he’d racked his brains for something to say—anything to break the increasingly tension-laden silence—but all he’d been able to think was that he wanted her, desperately, inexplicably, and he’d been pretty sure that if he’d opened his mouth that was what would have come out.
Thank goodness he’d come to his senses in the nick of time. If he hadn’t, if he’d told her all the things he wanted to do to her, she’d have been onto the police within seconds. And he might have put on a convincing front as he’d answered her questions and plied her with excuses, but it had taken practically every drop of self-control that he had not to say to hell with it, march over there and just kiss her.
It was why he’d stayed where he was jammed against the door frame instead of perhaps taking the seat next to her, and it was why it was a good idea she left now. His mood was fragile and his behaviour clearly volatile and the last thing he needed was the slap in the face he might have deserved earlier.
So he’d put her in her coat, see her to her car, and that would be that. He’d slam her door shut, watch her drive off, and put the whole uncomfortable night behind him. And then order would be restored and he could work on getting himself back to normal.
Feeling calmer than he had done in hours now
that he had a plan and the end was in sight, Leo held out her coat and tried to defend himself against the effect of her. Five more minutes of this madness. That was all he had to endure. Surely he could hang on that long.
But apparently he couldn’t because she flashed him a quick smile that made him look at her mouth, then turned and slipped first one arm and then the other through the sleeves and Leo found himself responding, quite helpless to do anything about it.
He wanted to put his hands on her shoulders and turn her around. He wanted to pull her right up against him and kiss the life out of her, then back her up against the wall and do a whole lot more than kissing. Or drag her with him to the floor or lift her onto a table. He wasn’t fussy.
It was her mouth, he thought, his head swimming with the unfamiliar intensity of his reaction to her. Red with lipstick, wide and full, and, well, the only word he could think of was luscious, which although not a word he could say he’d ever used before was somehow the only one that would do.
Or her scent. Something about it was intoxicating him, making a total mess of his control and scrambling his brain but also triggering something buried in there deep. A memory, a feeling, a sensation, perhaps...
‘Thank you,’ she said, taking a step forwards, away from him, then turning and smiling up at him again as she started to do up her buttons.
‘Flowers,’ he muttered, shoving his hands through his hair as he struggled to work out what it was because for some reason it seemed important.
‘What?’ she said, stopping for a moment and lifting her eyebrows in surprise as she glanced up at him.
‘Irises. Your scent.’
‘What about it?’
‘It’s familiar.’
‘I’m sure I’m not the only one who wears it,’ she said, giving him a look that seemed to question his sanity.
‘It’s more familiar than that.’
He tried to place it. Felt it dangling there, tantalisingly just out of reach. He scoured his brain and racked his memory—
And then it hit him.
The dream. The woman leaning over him, murmuring his name, touching him, the heat of her body, the warmth of her breath. On his skin, his lips. Close. Very close. In fact too close to suggest anything other than an imminent kiss. From her. From Abby.