“No one should get their way all the time.”
His laugh filled the spacious back of the limousine and made the hairs on her arms stand on end. “You’re pretty self-assured for someone who doesn’t really know me.”
“You don’t know what I know.”
“That’s true,” his smile slipped, his expression assessing. “I wish I could remember our connection.”
“Would it help if I assure you we’ve never met?”
“Not particularly, because I’m certain that can’t be the truth.”
“I’m happy to tease you,” she said with mock indignation. “But not to outright lie.”
“I offended you?”
“By calling me a liar? Of course not,” she said with a sarcastic roll of her eyes.
“The sum total of what I know about you could fit on a postage stamp.”
“Then you’re not asking the right questions.”
“Ah, of course. I am forgetting our guessing game.”
She nodded encouragingly, as the car turned into her street, the large trees lining either side one of Cora’s favourite sights. Out of habit, she scanned for motorbikes—the chosen vehicle of paparazzi—despite the fact her determined low profile and lack of a social life meant she was mostly left alone these days.
“Something wrong?” He asked, as the car drew to a stop.
“No,” she fixed a bright smile to her face. “Nothing at all. Come inside and ask your questions.”
He reached across her to open the door, his eyes holding hers a moment too long, so her heart slammed into her ribs.
“But inside,” he said throatily, “There might be other games I’d prefer to play.”
She bit down on her lower lip, a thrill of something spreading through her at this uncharacteristic and totally exciting development. “Do you promise?” She purred back, so his eyes widened and his breath fanned her cheek.
“You can count on it.”
2
“YOU LIKE ART, AND music,” he said, looking around her living room. The sofas were white leather, facing each other across a square coffee table that was laden with books and travel magazines—not artfully arranged but stacked in haphazard, toppling towers of priority, as Cora waded her way through others stacked on the floor. She’d always been a dedicated reader and still spent most mornings curled up with coffee and a book. “And reading,” he intuited, moving closer to the coffee table and flipping open one of the books, his finger scanning the page.
“The art and the books, yes, but why do you say music?”
“The record player. Only an enthusiast would have such a classic.” His eyes moved sideways. “And a significant collection, too. Mind if I take a look?”
“I wouldn’t have brought you here if I minded.”
His eyes probed hers. “Is that an open invitation to explore?”
Heat flooded her cheeks. It was an innocent enough question but Cora easily turned it into something more personal. She averted her face, hoping he couldn’t read the emotions in her eyes. “Feel free to have a look around. Would you like a drink?”
“Coffee.”
“How do you take it?”
“Black.”
She hid a smile. “Of course.”