Читать книгу The Aristocrat and the Single Mum - Michelle Douglas - Страница 9

CHAPTER THREE

SIMON couldn’t keep the anticipation out of his step as he turned into the arcade that led down to Kate’s office. On cue, as if she’d sensed him near, she stepped out of her door and locked it.

Desire fire-balled low down in his stomach. Immediately. Without giving him time to draw breath. He stopped and feasted his eyes on her and decided breathing didn’t matter. It’d kick in again when it needed to.

She was lovely. Utterly lovely. Blonde-haired and blue-eyed, lithe and strong. But it was more than how she looked. It was her essence, something innate to her, that drew him—the light in her eyes, the abandon with which she threw chips and turned cartwheels. He’d never seen the like in his life. Nobody had ever made him laugh so quickly and easily. Nobody had made him feel so accepted for who he was rather than what he was. Nobody had ever made him feel so alive.

Staying in her house, taking her out to dinner, was probably folly.

Of course it was folly.

Kate chose that moment to turn and when she saw him her whole face lit up. It made him feel ten feet tall. It made him want to sweep her up in his arms and kiss her again.

He didn’t. He said, ‘Did you have a good meeting with your accountant?’ instead.

Boring. Predictable. Felice would take him to task over his lack of imagination.

‘Yes, thank you.’ Kate didn’t take him to task for boringness or predictability. She smiled as if she appreciated his interest.