9

With her hair secured at her crown it was now possible to see the slender arch of her delicious throat, with skin as delicate as pale China. It was a delectable delicacy that Simon found himself aching to taste. Presumably that wasn’t completely out of the question, if Sara and Mark really weren’t together.

He straightened slowly. "That’s a pity, because the only thing that I’m in the least interested in talking about this evening is your personal life." 

Those eyes widened warily. "I don’t understand." 

"No?" Simon found himself watching intently as she moistened those peach-glossed lips before speaking again.

"I understood from our phone conversation earlier today that you wanted me here at five o’clock so that we could discuss possible new designs for the décor in your apartment." 

Simon smiled slightly. "I don’t remember so much as mentioning any designs for my apartment during our brief conversation this morning." 

"Well…no," she conceded slowly, after a few seconds’ thought. "But that was the reason for your assistant's call two days ago," 

"Two appointments which you didn’t ever have any intention of keeping." 

"No." 

"Why not?" 

Sara felt about two inches tall as she realized she had behaved like an idiot.

But it had just been so tempting, when she had received the call from Simon Hamilton's assistant, asking if she would come to his office to discuss the possibility of redesigning the interior of his apartment. Tempting to accept and then cancel as a small way of showing him that not every woman jumped at the click of his fingers. She should have realized—given more consideration to the repercussions of her behavior if the powerful Simon Hamilton decided to make an issue of it.

Her gaze didn’t quite meet his now. "I really did have to be somewhere else when your assistant called to make that appointment on Monday,"

"And on Tuesday?" He quirked dark brows. "Did you really have an emergency appointment with your dentist?" 

"Er—yes." 

Simon eyed her warily. "Would you care to explain?" 

She grimaced. "Perhaps when I introduced the two of you on Saturday evening I should have mentioned that Mark is a dentist." 

His mouth thinned. "I see."

She winced. "Do you…?" 

"Oh, I think so." Simon nodded slowly, his interest well and truly piqued by the woman now standing in front of him. More than piqued, if he were honest.

Simon had no idea why it should be, but he found everything about Sara McCall intriguing. From her lippy conversation to her desirable hourglass figure. "You obviously felt an urgent need to have a cavity filled." 

Those brown eyes widened in blank shock, her cheeks filling with color as she gasped her indignation.

Now it was Simon's turn to chuckle at Sara's expense. And for that chuckle to develop into full-throated laughter as he saw that he really had succeeded in rendering this complicated woman speechless. "My God, Sara, you should see your face!" he finally managed through his laughter. "Or maybe not; you look a little like a fish out of water at the moment." 

Probably because Sara felt like a fish out of water at that moment. Mouth opening and shutting, her chest rapidly rising and falling as she gasped for breath, her eyes wide and staring." I can’t believe you just said that!"

"Actually, neither can I." He sobered. "My Aunt Ann would consider my conversation most ungentlemanly. Unfortunately for you, I’m more than happy to risk her disapproval if I’ve succeeded in rendering you speechless for once!" 

"Really?" 

"Really," Simon confirmed teasingly, aware that Sara was still having trouble regaining her usual spiky confidence.

She gave a disbelieving shake of her head. "Your Aunt Ann would be perfectly correct in her assessment of your behavior just now." 

"She usually is," he acknowledged ruefully.

A frown appeared between those golden eyes. "Who is your Aunt Ann , exactly? And why does her opinion matter to you?" 

Simon gave an affectionate smile. ‘My cousin Zach's mother. She’s also been a mother to me since I was eight years old—after I went to live with her and my Uncle Charles when my parents were killed in a plane crash." 

Sara drew her breath in sharply as she heard the pain underlying the practicality of Simon's tone. She hadn’t known that about him even after she'd done quite a research on him after she got home that Saturday night—hadn’t cared to know that about him—and she frowned slightly as she acknowledged that his confiding that information to her had introduced a different sort of intimacy between the two of them from their previous physical awareness, which had seemed to sizzle and crackle in the air only minutes ago. An intimacy that was emotional rather than physical.

"I’m sorry for your loss," she murmured finally.

"Thank you," he accepted gruffly.

Sara shifted uncomfortably. "Did you like living with your cousin and his parents?" 

His grin warmed his eyes to the color of emeralds. "Eventually. I was pretty traumatized the first year or so, and probably gave my Aunt Ann a few gray hairs. But eventually I settled down, and I really couldn’t have asked for a better surrogate family." 

"You and Zach are close?" 

"As brothers," he confirmed without hesitation.

Sara raised her brows, suddenly realizing that the conversation had become altogether too personal for her liking. "Ermmm, it’s really getting late, Simon," she said briskly.

He raised those dark brows. "Do you have yet another appointment to go to this evening?" 

She could so easily have said yes. But instead… "Well…no. But—" 

"But what?" 

"But it’s evening, and I always clean my apartment in the evening when I get home… If I need to," Sara rallied weakly.

He eyed her mockingly. "I thought that was what the weekends were for?" 

She gave a disbelieving snort. "Admit it, Simon, you’ve never had to clean your own apartment, or anywhere else you’ve lived, at the weekends or any other time!" 

"Not true. I had to keep my own rooms clean when I was in the university," He grimaced. "Admittedly I couldn’t see the bedroom carpet for the clutter after the first few weeks, and I ran out of clean clothes on a regular basis, but I coped." 

"By ignoring the clutter and buying new clothes, probably," she guessed derisively.

"Guilty as charged," Simon admitted with an unrepentant grin.