LITMIR.BIZ

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balls handy to shove into his gaping mouth.

      She bristled. ‘With honours. Why, did you think I was just another carnival hick?’

      His lips twitched and he avoided her stare, focusing on refolding his linen napkin. ‘I just didn’t pick you to be the type.’

      Oh-oh, now he was treading on dangerous ground. She hated being labelled in any way, shape or form.

      ‘And what type is that? Uptight, stuck-up, pretentious, like you?’

      He shrugged, as if her barbs meant little. ‘I’m proud of what I am. At least I don’t have some hang-up over wealth.’

      Anger surged through her. Easy for him to judge, when he obviously had money to burn.

      ‘Not that it’s any of your business, but you wouldn’t know the first thing about making it in this world the hard way. That is, without Daddy’s purse strings to tide you over.’ She barely paused for breath, her bitterness rising with every passing second as she ticked the list off on her fingers. ‘Let me guess. You went to private schools, graduated from university top of the class, had the weekend beach house, played golf with Daddy and dated the princesses hand-picked by Mummy. Correct?’

      Her tirade had a strange effect, but he blanked all expression from his face, casually picked up his glass and drank as if she hadn’t spoken.

      ‘Like I’ve said before, your clairvoyant skills amaze me. You left out the yacht, though.’ His deadly calm unnerved her, though he didn’t look up.

      Her anger deflated, gone as quickly as it had come as guilt flooded her. She shouldn’t have pushed him so far. She was here to broker a salvage operation, not blow the whole thing out of the water. ‘Look, you don’t know the first thing about me. I just don’t like being put inside a box.’

      ‘Then tell me.’ He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table, drawing her attention to the way his shirt moulded to his biceps. He had a great body for an office-based guy. ‘What makes Amber Lawrence tick?’

      She squirmed, uncomfortable beneath his probing gaze. ‘I’m a free spirit. I love Nepalese food, bush-walking and exquisite Mexican jewellery. Not that I own any of the latter yet. And, as you probably noticed, my taste in clothes is far from the usual. There, does that satisfy you?’

      Interest flared in his eyes as his gaze swept her body, sending her heart hammering. ‘On the contrary. It arouses my curiosity further.’

      She blinked to break the hypnotising eye contact, imagining the many ways she could arouse him and vice versa.

      Thankfully, the arrival of their meal put paid to any further interrogation and Amber breathed a sigh of relief. This man had the power to twist her into knots and she had no idea how to untangle herself. The sooner he laid his cards on the table and left her alone, the better.

      Once she’d finished the last of her delicious prawns smothered in garlic and chilli, she sat back and patted her stomach. ‘That was fantastic.’

      Her action drew his stare to that region of her anatomy like a magnet and she quickly sat up, disconcerted at the heat that unravelled in her belly and spread to lower regions.

      ‘Can I tempt you with dessert?’ His low, husky voice sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine.

      That depends. Are you offering dessert…or dessert?

      By the amused look on his face, she thought for a sudden, horrifying moment that she’d spoken aloud.

      ‘No, thanks.’ She clasped her hands tightly, wishing the evening would come to an end.

      ‘Sweet enough, huh?’

      She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, wishing her heart would stop pounding. She knew she shouldn’t flirt with him but a little incorrigible voice inside her head wouldn’t accept that. ‘You tell me.’

      ‘I’d say you’re something like a lemon tart. Looks delicious but with a tang that can set you on edge.’ Unfortunately, he kept staring at her with blatant hunger, as if he had every intention of sampling her and coming back for seconds.

      ‘Yeah, well, you’ll never get a taste.’

      At the speculative gleam in his eyes, she cleared her throat and continued quickly, ‘Thanks for the meal. Now, back to business. I’ve told you my ideas. What do you think?’

      He hadn’t discussed much about the proposed takeover at all. In fact, he’d focused far too much attention on her, and not the business they had come here to talk about.

      ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be over to see your father first thing in the morning.’ He spoke calmly, rationally, but she sensed something more. If she wasn’t mistaken, he sounded like a chauvinistic male who thought deals could only be sealed between men.

      She pushed back her chair and stood up so quickly her head spun. She couldn’t believe he’d sidetracked her with good food, fine champagne and diverse conversation. And now, when she needed some concrete information to take home, he was giving her the brush-off.

      ‘I do have half a brain in my head, so if you decide to do business, let me know. I’ll be waiting outside.’ Resisting the urge to tug down her skirt and spoil her exit, she stalked out of the dining room, head held high.

      Steve watched her walk away, the green dress she wore flouncing against her thighs. He couldn’t believe she’d worn a dress that short, especially after the kiss they had shared. What did she think he was, made of stone?

      Unfortunately, a certain part of his anatomy had thought so since the minute he laid eyes on her tonight. Her body was every bit as luscious as he’d imagined, and thankfully had been on full display since the disappearance of that ridiculous gypsy-like outfit she’d worn earlier that afternoon.

      Admit it, Rockwell. She has you hooked.

      Pushing the niggling thought from his head, he paid the bill and followed her outside. She’d wandered towards the beach, where the wind whipped her hair back and plastered the flimsy dress against her shapely legs.

      ‘Unless you want to get arrested for indecent exposure, I suggest you get in the car,’ he murmured in her ear, catching a tantalising glimpse of cleavage as she whirled around.

      ‘Stop telling me what to do. And don’t sneak up on me like that.’ She spoke quietly, but he sensed the barely restrained anger beneath her calm exterior.

      He offered her an arm. ‘Have I done something to offend you?’

      She stared at his arm as if he had some contagious disease. ‘What haven’t you done? You waltz into our lives, ready to close down a family business. Then you bring me out here to supposedly discuss the aforementioned, yet don’t. And as for that kiss…’ She trailed off and looked away.

      He took a step closer, bringing him within a foot of her. ‘I’m not going to apologise again for something I don’t regret.’

      That got her attention, and her gaze flew to his face. Thankfully, he managed to maintain a cool façade while his gut twisted with desire. If she kept staring at him with those eyes he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions, and this time there would be no stopping him.

      ‘Let’s go.’ She turned around and stalked towards the car, leaving him with a distinct case of lust that he needed to ignore.

      She didn’t speak a word on the trip back to the carnival, pointedly staring out of the passenger window. He sneaked a peek at her, wondering what it was about this strange woman that appealed to him so much. Usually he preferred tall, cool brunettes, not wild blondes with sharp tongues.

      She’d surprised him with her business degree. He couldn’t imagine her stalking the corridors of power, though he would bet she’d put anyone who crossed her path back into line, quick smart. And as for her tastes, he should have guessed they would match the rest of her: alternative, exotic, fascinating.

      She

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