His words spiralled through the space between them, out of control, refusing to settle. What did that mean? She met his gaze, her body’s engine pumping a rush to each nerve ending. His eyes were unrelenting, holding hers captive, making it impossible to look away. What was happening here? It was like her body was conspiring against her. Every sense was rising up, awake and alert, setting off a chain reaction that started in her toes and moved like lightning through the rest of her body. She couldn’t breathe, her stomach was being sucked in as if stuck in the middle of a vortex, her chest had contracted on an inward breath and her eyes were static… on him.
And then the gap was closing. She didn’t know if she was moving or he was moving or whether they were both inching forward in unison. All she did know for certain was she felt a little bewitched, out of control, completely not in charge of her own will.
His body was so near now, his face close. She could see every eyelash outlining those beautiful, hazel eyes, every tiny dot making up the fine layer of bristle on his jaw, the way his lips curved so gently, so sensuously.
Her brain was incapable of logic. All it was processing was his presence and exactly how that was making her feel. It was like mice had invaded her stomach and were chasing each other around in circles. And she hated it as much as she was relishing it. This was not in her plan. This was reckless behaviour, just like ten years ago. This was her brother’s boss. She’d had two conversations with him. One was by a fire exit when he was running out on a date. The other involved cranberry and vodka. This was Christmas spirit in overdrive and she needed to stop now, reclaim her common sense.
His hot breath entwined with hers, mixing together in the freezing night air and, as the seconds ticked by, Hayley was spinning faster and faster towards something she didn’t understand. All she knew, as her body moved of its own accord, was it was going to happen.
And then their mouths met in an urgency like no other she’d experienced before. His lips parted hers, the kiss binding them together as the snow floated down around them. Any annoyance at his earlier selfishness had evaporated in the heat of the moment and all she wanted to do was hold onto this feeling, hold onto him, for as long as she could.
Hayley closed her eyes, bringing her hand up to his cheek, letting her ice-cold fingers graze his jaw as his mouth swept over hers.
A car horn sounded and she broke away, a shiver running through her body. Reality finally kicked in. What was she doing? The same nightclub. Another man she barely knew. This was only her second night in New York and she was kissing someone! Someone who had challenged her quest to find her daughter’s father. She was officially certifiable. It had to be the wine she hadn’t known the name of mixing with the vodka or the jet lag.
She took a step back from him. ‘I have to go.’
‘Go?’
The surprise in his voice pulled at her. She shouldn’t have kissed him. She shouldn’t have let him kiss her. It didn’t matter who had started it. She was going to finish it.
‘Yes, I have the Belgian artist’s daughter to worry about and…’ She was backing away so quickly, snow was puffing up around her feet with every movement. ‘It was nice to see you again.’ She made to turn away.
‘Hayley, wait,’ he called.
She waved a hand. ‘Goodnight, Superman.’ She was leaving while she’d managed to regain control of her senses.
22
DRUMMOND GLOBAL OFFICES, DOWNTOWN MANHATTAN
Oliver had been in the office since before 6a.m. He’d dictated four letters and read through two reports before Manhattan started to wake up. Now he was stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows taking in the view.
People like ants, racing up the sidewalks, crossing the streets, moving with purpose through the latest snowfall. Yellow cabs lined up in traffic, cars with Christmas trees strapped to their roofs, school buses, bicycles, all going somewhere on the straight roads between the high-rise buildings. He sucked in a breath.Hayley.
She was all he’d been able to think about since she’d left him in the street last night. They had kissed. He had kissed her like he hadn’t kissed anyone in a long time. With his heart. He shook himself, moving away from the window and heading back to his desk. And then she’d fled. That was, without a doubt, a good thing.
He sat down in his seat, stretching his arms out and linking his fingers behind his head. He had apologised for his unwarranted reaction to her wish but it wasn’t enough. He should have done more. He moved in his chair, bringing his arms down, one hand finding the mouse. It wasn’t too late. He could do something toredeem himself. He minimised Dean Walker’s employment record and fired up Google. He started to type intently.
A knock on his office door directed his attention away from the screen.
‘Come in.’
The door opened and there stood a blonde-haired woman who looked vaguely familiar. Did she work for him? What was her name?
‘Good morning, Mr Drummond.’ She stepped forward.
‘Good morning.’ He had no idea what this woman was doing here. He moved his hand to the phone, a finger hovering above the button for security.
‘Mr Drummond, Clara asked me to fill in for her today.’
Shit. He’d forgotten he’d given Clara the day off. And Clara had known he would forget and had arranged cover like the highly efficient individual she was.
‘Good, right.’ He moved his hand away from the phone. ‘So there are some dictations waiting to be typed and I’ll let you know when I have something else for you.’ He looked back to his PC, hovering the mouse over the search box.
‘Sir, I think you should be aware of today’s news.’ The woman held a broadsheet out towards him.
‘Thank you, just leave it on the desk.’ He usually read news on his phone while he stood in the queue for coffee. This morning the only thing on his mind had been a woman who drank vodka and cranberry.
