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Her long lashes fanned against her cheeks. “Thank you for coming here.”
“No problem.” She looked good. Comfortable and natural. Infinitely desirable.
“Georgia’s a brilliant jewellery designer. She works in a co-op part time.” She was babbling again, like the first time she’d met him. “That’s why I couldn’t come to you. I mean, in the days. She’s been working.”
Oh, God. She was mortified. Something about the dark seriousness of his stare completely robbed her of her usual self-possession. It was as though he saw through her, past all her defences and shielding, to the very heart of her being. She was a child again; anxious, ill-at-ease and vulnerable.
“I like the trip. It’s no trouble; I assure you.”
She nodded, striving for confident.
“Mama, me sleep.” The sweet, high-pitched voice of Ellie drew all of their attention to her.
“You’re tired, baby?” Chloe nodded at her little daughter and moved to take her in her arms. She squeezed her tight to her chest. “Auntie George is going to put you down for a sleep, darling one. I’ll come and give you a kiss soon.”
“My wants Elsa.”
Chloe threw Georgia a knowing look. “I’m sure you do. That’s up to Georgia. I love you.” She kissed Ellie’s soft, smooth forehead and then handed her to Georgia. To Chloe’s delight, Ellie snuggled into her friend’s shoulder and began to sing, in an off-key warble, Let it goooooo, let it gooooo.
“Thanks for that,” Georgia called over her shoulder, as she slipped out of the front door. “I’ll be singing the Arendelle top twenty all night.”
“Welcome to my world,” Chloe responded, latching the door in place and sliding the bolt across. She spun around to face Hendrix, trying not to give too much credit to the fact that they were now alone. In her small apartment. “She’s obsessed with Frozen. For a little girl who knows maybe thirty words, she’s got the cast of the show down pat.”
He grinned. “That’s the one with the blonde, right?”
“And the red-head,” Chloe nodded, and moved passed him. “She’s cast Georgia and me as the leads, and she’s Olaf, I suppose.” She laughed at the silliness of it. “Kids, huh?”
He ignored the jab of pain. His sister’s baby had never been. He had no place mourning her.
“I brought some wine.”
“To a meeting?” She queried, her blue eyes searching his face expectantly. Though what she hoped to see there, she couldn’t have said.
He shrugged. “It seemed appropriate.”
Chloe wasn’t sure how to respond, and so she said nothing. It was a red wine, with a cork. “I don’t have a corkscrew,” she apologised. “I’m used to bottles with screw tops.”
He gripped his hands to his heart in an impersonation of pain. “I never took you for a philistine.”
“I’m not a philistine so much as a very occasional wine drinker on a rather tiny budget.”
“I see,” he said with a conspiratorial nod. “Then you sound like you are in need of education.”
Her heart turned over in her chest. “I am, huh?”
“Yes.” He stepped into the kitchen and relieved her of the bottle. Her fingers, though, did not release their quarry. Instead, they both gripped the one item, and their eyes latched together.
Hendrix kept his focus on the prize. Seducing her was his goal. The look in William’s face would be his reward. Some compensation for what had happened. Pain, in exchange for pain. “You see,” his voice had an almost hypnotic depth, “Wine isn’t simply something one drinks.”
“It isn’t?” She was still holding the bottle, her eyes turbulent in the midst of her expressive face.
He shook his head in silent rebuttal. “It is an experience. Different people taste different things. Different people like different things.” His eyes dropped, clinging to her lips. “Some people like light, intangible flavours. Something that dances on the palette and is gone in an instant. Others,” his eyes dropped, lower still, to the soft swell of her cleavage concealed by the lilac shirt. “like a more forceful experience. Something that assaults their senses and brings them back to life.”
Her stomach rolled. “I don’t know what I like.” Her voice was a breathless husk, and she realised that she’d pushed her body forwards, towards his.
“Fascinating,” he murmured, scanning her lips once more. “I would suggest that means you have not experienced enough.”
Was she alone in the double entendre? Her mind slipped to the possible inference, and her insides quivered responsively. But she needed to pull the conversation back. She was in danger of letting her own attraction swamp the situation. “I’ve never drunk much wine. I was only eighteen when I came to
