Forbidden Surrender(10)

“You mean Richard? He’s definitely not my boyfriend.”

“Good. So you’re single.” He leaned his breathtaking face closer to mine heightening awareness of him.

I stood my ground. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. Either way I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t date potential clients,” I said, hoping the brush-off would end the personal discussion and we could return to talking about business.

Those seductive lips so close to mine curved into a smile. “Who says anything about dating? I just want to finish what you started this morning.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We were here.” He gently but firmly took my hand in his and placed it on his chest. The move caught me off guard and all I could do was suck in a deep breath when I felt the sudden warmth of his body and the strong beat of his heart beneath my palms. “Let’s move it further.” He began to move my hand slowly downward. As my fingertips traced the hard contours at the base of his pecs and the firm cut of his stomach through his shirt, goosebumps ran across my skin and the hairs on the back of my neck stiffened. My pulse quickened and my lips parted to accommodate faster breaths. It wasn’t until my fingers reached the base of his stony abs that my mind caught up and I pulled away.

“This morning was an innocent mistake,” I shot back, aware I was more aroused than offended by the gesture. “I don’t know what kind of girl you think I am exactly, but I don’t mix business with pleasure.”

“I do.” His sexy voice could tear down any woman’s defenses. I knew I had to get away, afraid I wouldn’t be an exception.

“Good for you. Thank you for the drink Mr. Sorenson but if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my friend.” I rose from my seat with the intention of leaving but turned back to that gorgeous face one last time. “If you’re still interested in Waterbridge-Howser, you have Richard’s number.”

His lips curled into that same wicked smile from earlier. “We’ll be in touch.”





When I returned to Riley’s table, she was by herself.

“What happened to the British guy?” I asked.

“I got bored with him. But nevermind that. What happened with you and you know who?”

“Nothing. It was just a professional discussion. All business.” I was trying to convince myself as much as her.

“Yeah, right. You’re going to get laid tonight.”

I shook my head vehemently. “No,” I repeated. “Let’s go. I’ve had enough of this place.”





We had taken off two hours ago from Cape Town International and were heading back to JFK. Riley and I had made the most out of the rest of our stay; we hadn’t had fun like that in a long time and I was already dreading returning to work. While I enjoyed working at Waterbridge-Howser, no job beat out long scenic hikes around Cape Town and watching Riley flirt with the locals.

I looked over to see Riley still fast asleep next to me, her head lolling on the backrest. If only I could get a few minutes of shuteye. Riley had tried to prod me about what happened between Vincent and me at the bar, but I left it vague, knowing that she would never let it drop if she knew the truth.

My head still pounded from the celebratory shots she insisted we take for our last “night” in South Africa. She had made some new friends on the beach who took us to the best viewing spot in town, and we’d stayed up all night watching the sun rise over Table Mountain. I had to admit, it was gorgeous, but we regretted it afterwards when we had to pack and head to the airport. Bleary eyed with the beginnings of what I was sure would be an awful hangover, we dragged ourselves to the gate and boarded. Riley had fallen asleep almost as soon as she sat down.

The ding of the seatbelt sign brought my attention back to the folder open in front of me. Richard had sent me an email late the previous night asking me to look over Vincent’s file again. He was nervous that Vincent hadn’t called us yet, which made me nervous as well.

We hadn’t seen any sign of Vincent Sorenson after that night at the bar. When we were exploring the wilderness around Cape Town, I was half expecting him to pop out of a forested area nearby locked in a mortal engagement with a panther, or make a dramatic appearance by falling out of the sky with a parachute. Something death defying. But there was nothing.

That night, Vincent had been so close to me I could smell the masculine scent of whiskey and spice from his clothes. I remembered his mouth lingering close to mine as he trailed my fingers down the chiseled expanse of his torso. I wondered how his lips would feel against my exposed neck. Would his kisses be soft or desperate?