demure until Cathy’s graceful body moved beneath it. She both hoped and feared that Sin would
notice.
She shouldn’t have had any doubts. When he arrived at five past seven the look in his hazel eyes was both guarded and more than flattering.
“That’s a very dangerous dress, Cathy Whiteheart,” he said in a low, deep voice after a long, silent stare.
She controlled the impulse to say, “What, this old thing?” She had bought the dress for Greg, bought it the day she returned back home from
shopping to find him in bed with a strange woman. She had never worn it, and suddenly she was glad she had decided to ignore her misgivings. It
wasn’t the fault of the dress that she associated it with Greg. Besides, Georgia’s cutting words had an unpleasant edge of truth to them. The
remainder of the clothes that took up only a small portion of the space in her walk-in closet were un-imaginative, unflattering pastels and flowered
prints. She either looked like a schoolgirl or a housewife in most of them—even Greg at his most charming had been far from pleased with her
wardrobe. But she had never had much interest in clothes. At least, not until recently.
“I’m afraid I don’t have anything to offer you in the way of a drink.” She made her voice cool and composed, something she was far
from feeling. The mere sight of his tall, strong body, clad in gray flannel slacks, a black turtleneck, and a Harris tweed jacket that showed off the set
of his broad shoulders was enough to send her pulse racing. His lazy smile and the promise in his smoky hazel eyes just about proved her undoing.
“That’s all right, Cathy.” He draped her jacket around her shoulders, the hands lingering for a delectable moment. “We can easily
have a drink at the restaurant. I wouldn’t want to put you out.”
For one mad, impetuous moment Cathy knew the overwhelming desire to lean her head against that broad, deep chest and close her eyes, give over her troubles
and responsibilities into his large, capable hands. She looked up, her green eyes meeting his for a long, pregnant moment, and then she blinked rapidly,
moving away. “We’d better leave,” she said, and her voice was noticeably shaky.
Damn him and the devastating effect he had on her. Tender amusement lit his eyes as he took her unwilling arm. “Certainly, Cathy. It’s just as
well. When I promised you could trust me to behave like a gentleman I didn’t know you were going to wear that dress.”
His skin seemed to burn through her clothing. She couldn’t free herself from the nerve-shattering effect of his presence. In the luxurious confines
of his BMW he seemed overwhelming, magnetic, and far more man than she was capable of dealing with at that point in her life. But the invisible wall she
tried to erect toppled every time he smiled at her, touched her, and it took far too long to rebuild it each time. The day would come when she could no
longer do so, and she didn’t know whether she dreaded or longed for it.
She had steeled herself for an ordeal during dinner, fending off all that flirtatious charm, but as they took their seats in the elegant, secluded confines
of the restaurant Sin suddenly became completely businesslike, treating her with a polite, distant charm that left her both relaxed and ever so faintly
disgruntled. She scarcely tasted the delicious food he ordered for her, drank far too much of the excellent Bordeaux, and watched the candlelit shadows
play across his strongly handsome face with bemused fascination.
That swift smile lit his face as he finished his brandy. “Have you been listening to a word I’ve said?” he asked. “You look like
you’re in another world, although it’s obviously a much pleasanter place than the one you usually inhabit. What are you thinking about?”
“You,” she answered forthrightly enough. “I know absolutely nothing about you. Do you work for a living?”
The smile deepened. “Now and
notice.
She shouldn’t have had any doubts. When he arrived at five past seven the look in his hazel eyes was both guarded and more than flattering.
“That’s a very dangerous dress, Cathy Whiteheart,” he said in a low, deep voice after a long, silent stare.
She controlled the impulse to say, “What, this old thing?” She had bought the dress for Greg, bought it the day she returned back home from
shopping to find him in bed with a strange woman. She had never worn it, and suddenly she was glad she had decided to ignore her misgivings. It
wasn’t the fault of the dress that she associated it with Greg. Besides, Georgia’s cutting words had an unpleasant edge of truth to them. The
remainder of the clothes that took up only a small portion of the space in her walk-in closet were un-imaginative, unflattering pastels and flowered
prints. She either looked like a schoolgirl or a housewife in most of them—even Greg at his most charming had been far from pleased with her
wardrobe. But she had never had much interest in clothes. At least, not until recently.
“I’m afraid I don’t have anything to offer you in the way of a drink.” She made her voice cool and composed, something she was far
from feeling. The mere sight of his tall, strong body, clad in gray flannel slacks, a black turtleneck, and a Harris tweed jacket that showed off the set
of his broad shoulders was enough to send her pulse racing. His lazy smile and the promise in his smoky hazel eyes just about proved her undoing.
“That’s all right, Cathy.” He draped her jacket around her shoulders, the hands lingering for a delectable moment. “We can easily
have a drink at the restaurant. I wouldn’t want to put you out.”
For one mad, impetuous moment Cathy knew the overwhelming desire to lean her head against that broad, deep chest and close her eyes, give over her troubles
and responsibilities into his large, capable hands. She looked up, her green eyes meeting his for a long, pregnant moment, and then she blinked rapidly,
moving away. “We’d better leave,” she said, and her voice was noticeably shaky.
Damn him and the devastating effect he had on her. Tender amusement lit his eyes as he took her unwilling arm. “Certainly, Cathy. It’s just as
well. When I promised you could trust me to behave like a gentleman I didn’t know you were going to wear that dress.”
His skin seemed to burn through her clothing. She couldn’t free herself from the nerve-shattering effect of his presence. In the luxurious confines
of his BMW he seemed overwhelming, magnetic, and far more man than she was capable of dealing with at that point in her life. But the invisible wall she
tried to erect toppled every time he smiled at her, touched her, and it took far too long to rebuild it each time. The day would come when she could no
longer do so, and she didn’t know whether she dreaded or longed for it.
She had steeled herself for an ordeal during dinner, fending off all that flirtatious charm, but as they took their seats in the elegant, secluded confines
of the restaurant Sin suddenly became completely businesslike, treating her with a polite, distant charm that left her both relaxed and ever so faintly
disgruntled. She scarcely tasted the delicious food he ordered for her, drank far too much of the excellent Bordeaux, and watched the candlelit shadows
play across his strongly handsome face with bemused fascination.
That swift smile lit his face as he finished his brandy. “Have you been listening to a word I’ve said?” he asked. “You look like
you’re in another world, although it’s obviously a much pleasanter place than the one you usually inhabit. What are you thinking about?”
“You,” she answered forthrightly enough. “I know absolutely nothing about you. Do you work for a living?”
The smile deepened. “Now and
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