Hayley sniffed and he saw the tears in her eyes. He just wanted to pull her towards him, envelop her body with his.
‘What d’you think your father would be saying?’ she asked him, gently.
He sucked in a breath. That was a hard question to answer. How would Richard feel about the situation with Andrew Regis and his mother? The course he was steering the company on with the Globe? How he’d lived his life since his death? Hayley? Richard would definitely have liked Hayley. He smiled then.
‘He’d be saying “Oliver, you have a beautiful woman right here with you; why are you wasting your time thinking about me?”’
He felt a laugh come from her and she unlinked their hands. ‘I’m sorry, I made this kind of deep, didn’t I? I blame the carol singers out there.’ She nudged her head towards the scene outside.
‘I blame the extortionately expensive champagne.’
‘But I’m worth it.’
‘The jury’s still out on that one, Lois.’
She swiped a hand out, catching him on the shoulder.
‘Ouch, that hurt.’
‘Sorry, was that the injured shoulder?’
‘No, that was my baseball arm.’
‘I bet you’re a pro at that too.’
‘Of course. And NHL and NASCAR.’
‘Idoknow what those are.’
He laughed. ‘No you don’t.’
‘I could try and guess. I’m good at abbreviations.’
‘Go ahead, I might LMFAO.’
‘You are so annoying!’
She was looking across at him, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright, that infectious smile on her face. She was so beautiful, sat there sparring with him. He blew out the candle and leaned across the table, taking her face in his hands. Slowly, he brought her lips to his, needing to feel her mouth. She softened beneath his fingers, warm and open to his every move. Deepening the kiss, he lost himself, letting everything he was starting to feel for her flood over him. He slipped his hand into her hair, drawing her nearer still, driven on by the heat of her mouth and the intensity of her responses.
And then he broke the connection, needing to breathe. He carried on looking at her, trying to read her eyes. He swallowed as she matched his gaze and finally, he was able to speak.
‘I want to take you home tonight.’
‘I thought that’s what the town car was for,’ she replied.
‘Myhome,’ he said, his eyes not leaving hers. His heart was leaping like a child on a pogo stick, bouncing so hard, it was starting to hurt.
She smiled at him, grazing her fingers down the fine stubble along his jaw. ‘A lady cannot accept an invitation to the penthouse on the very first date.’
‘Screw that,’ Oliver said, taking hold of her hand.
‘Why, Mr Drummond, what language in front of a lady!’ Shesmiled before continuing. ‘Last time I spent the night with someone in New York, things got really complicated.’
He watched her drop her eyes, her mind somewhere else. He tilted her chin with his finger again. ‘We’ll keep it safe in the red room, I promise.’
41
OUTSIDE OLIVER DRUMMOND’S PENTHOUSE, DOWNTOWN MANHATTAN
