‘Heisvery well trained,’ Sev acknowledged of the Labrador, still reeling in shock from the first rejection he had ever received from a woman. So that she could attend aclass, of all things? That astonished him. He looked at her, savouring the fall of long golden silky hair tumbling round her tiny shoulders in disarray, the brightness of her eyes, the full luscious pout of her pink lips. As she arched her back in her effort to quietly persuade Harley back into his cage, his keen gaze locked to the generous swell of her breasts and the tight denim stretching across a bottom the shape of a ripe peach. He went hard as a rock and inwardly swore, turning away for a moment to look out of a window without a view because it was dark. He didn’t know what it was about her, but she made his body react with all the involuntary enthusiasm of a teenage boy and that set his teeth on edge.
‘So, youareinterested in Harley?’ Amy summed up, walking back towards the exit in the hope of giving him a polite reminder that time was short. ‘My boss, Mr Bunting, will be here every day but Sunday. He’s the only person able to sign a dog out of the shelter.’
‘Understood,’ Sev murmured, glancing back at Harley and deciding that, yes, he would go through with the adoption. In the short term, Amy might want to come and visit the dog and that would suit his purpose. In addition, he had an entire household of staff, who were under-utilised with only him to look after: they would walk the dog, feed it and look after it.
‘I should warn you though...’ Amy said hesitantly. ‘Harley’s a bit of a cuddle monster.’
‘A...what?’ Sev pressed with a frown.
‘He’s used to attention and being a companion dog. His owner was young and died suddenly, maybe spoiled him a little,’ Amy proffered, wondering if she should’ve kept quiet as his lean, darkly handsome profile grew thoughtful.
‘No, that won’t bother me,’ Sev assured her immediately because he never allowed anything or anyone to bother him. He supposed thathewas a little spoiled since he had become rich enough to pay employees to take all the annoyances out of his daily life. ‘But right at this moment, I’m more interested in you than Harley.’
‘Me?’Amy gasped, her throat tightening.
‘And which evening we’re going to get together for dinner this week,’ Sev extended lazily, reaching down...and down—Dio, she was short!—to tuck a golden strand of hair behind her ear as she stared up at him with those wondering violet eyes. Absolutely mesmerising eyes, he registered uneasily, stepping back for a split second before he could think about what he was doing, which was an unnerving experience for a guy who calculated his every move with cool, steadfast precision.
Those long brown fingers merely brushing lightly against her cheekbone during that tiny manoeuvre felt shockingly intimate on Amy’s terms. Nowadays she almost never had the comfort of any kind of physical contact with anyone. She shivered in reaction, staring up into his lean sculpted face to clash with glittering liquid-bronze eyes. Giddiness assailed her and her breath grew short in her throat while her body suddenly became uncomfortably warm.
‘Er...this week,’ she began shakily. ‘That could be a little difficult. I’m on duty at the surgery most evenings until nine, so I won’t be free until Friday.’
And even being that available would mean skipping a shift at the café, she reminded herself guiltily, and she really couldn’t afford to take that financial hit. Still, she would only be young and foolish once, she told herself soothingly, couldn’t always strive to be careful and sensible, particularly not when a man as extraordinary as Sev strolled centre stage into her life.
‘Friday will do fine,’ Sev assured her calmly, inwardly amused by her intensity, the open book of her little face that clearly proclaimed her attraction, her longing, her elation. He would make sure she had a good time, he assured himself smoothly, buy her something,spoilher. She would have no regrets when he walked away again. ‘I’ll pick you up at eight. We’ll do dinner and a club.’
Barely able to think straight as the door closed on his exit, Amy raced back upstairs to collect her coat, and it could not be said that her revision class that evening received quite the attention it was due because she was already frantically wondering what the heck she wouldwearon Friday. She didn’t own a socialising wardrobe, only casual stuff, couldn’t even recall when she had last put a dress on. But she certainly couldn’t afford to buy anything, unless it was out of a charity shop and even buying there was sometimes beyond her budget.
In the end it was her fellow waitress and closest friend, Gemma, who came to her rescue on the clothes front with several outfits that the older woman urged her to borrow. ‘I used to be out every weekend,’ she had said with regret. ‘But once you have a child, it changes things.’
Recalling that conversation, Amy sighed, for once grateful that she had had her mother’s caustic example to guide her through the challenging world of relationships. Although she had never learned the details, she had always assumed that her mother had fallen accidentally pregnant and had, at an early age, resolved never to put herself in a similar position with a man. For that reason, even though she was still a virgin, she had recently gone on the pill, reasoning that sooner or later there would surely be a significant someone in her life and that it was better to be safe than sorry.
The outfits Gemma loaned Amy were mostly too tight or too long because the two women were not similar in size, but Amy finally selected a stretchy black velour dress with a lower neckline than she would have preferred but which was cut short enough to suit her height. She pressed tissue into the toes of the black glittery stilettos she had borrowed and stuck her feet in them at the last minute, fussing with her freshly washed hair and tweaking her light make-up until she heard the doorbell. Her heart was banging at about fifty times a minute before she even answered the door.
It disconcerted her to find a strange man in a smart suit on the doorstep and her attention flew past him to the limo waiting at the kerb. ‘Mr Cantarelli is waiting in the car, Miss Taylor.’
Amy simply froze, staring beyond him in disbelief at the uniformed chauffeur holding open the passenger door of a very long glossy car and regarding her expectantly. She gulped and made her shivering way across the icy pavement into the warm, inviting depths of the very first limousine she had ever travelled in.
Sev dealt her a cool look of appraisal and a faint smile that failed to light up his eyes this time and she noticed the difference, immediately wondering if he was already regretting asking her out now that he had seen her dressed up to the very best of her ability.
‘The limo,’ she said jerkily. ‘You should’ve warned me. I didn’t realise it was you... Who was the man who came to the door?’
‘A member of my security team.’ Sev scanned her, taking in the sheer glory of the petite curvy figure beside him. A body to die for, he acknowledged hungrily, absorbing the pale smooth swell of her cleavage, the slender knees and ankles, her gorgeous face and even more appealing smile. Even though she looked on edge and nervous, she was impossibly cute. And he didn’tdocute, didn’t know where he had even found that word in his vocabulary, and it didn’t matter that she had the breasts of a goddess,hewouldn’t be going anywhere near them, he reminded himself impatiently.
‘What’s wrong?’ Amy asked worriedly, catching the frown that briefly pleated his black brows. ‘Is it the dress? Isn’t it smart enough? I borrowed it.’
Shut up, shut up,close your mouth and don’t gabble, she was telling herself as that embarrassing admission of insecurity tumbled from her lips.
‘Who from?’ Sev enquired, initially intrigued by the idea of her in borrowed finery even if it made him appreciate that he would have to buy her a presentable dress for the Lawsons’ big pre-Christmas party. Of course, she wouldn’t have the money for something like that. No, he intended to choose the optimum moment to unveil her identity. At the same time, it annoyed him that Oliver Lawson’s daughter lived in such poverty compared to her father. Surely Lawson could have helped her out beyond the level of paying child support? Amy Taylor had had to struggle even to complete her education after a less than promising upbringing.
‘Gemma, she’s a friend,’ Amy framed, striving to look back levelly at him and calm down, and utterly failing in that aspiration because she was so overpowered by both him and her deluxe surroundings that she felt as though she were trying to function in some strange dreamscape.
‘Would you like a drink?’
‘Yes, please...that would be great,’ she declared, trying not to gape as a liquor cabinet operated by a button emerged from the plush leather and glass division between driver and passenger. But when he uncorked a bottle of pink champagne there was no hiding her consternation.
‘Are you celebrating something?’
‘Hopefully the moment when you relax,’ Sev told her lazily.