Trust (33 page)

12:00: I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: Just arrived. Miss you. Call me.

12:37: Sarah tells me you’re busy. Call me ASAP.

01:29: Still busy? I need to talk to you. Up for a quick lunch?

01:50: I’m getting hungry here. What’s the prob?

My God! The man is freaking out
.

02:02: ‘Aren’t you going to have lunch? You don’t need to diet.

Sophia smiled at that and lifted her head as Herr Müller asked Edward something, who launched into an explanation about the company’s capability, its investment in the Tupi field in Brazil, and the expectations for the field.

She flicked her eyes down again.

02:17: I’ve ordered. I need sustenance.

02:41: You have to eat something. I like my hands full.

Unbidden, Sophia’s lips twisted, amused.

02:58: I’m really worried.

03:39: I’m coming over if you don’t text or call me back in 30 mins. Last chance.

Oh, God! How did I miss this?
Sophia started to text him back when the intercom buzzed low in the room. She picked up the wireless receiver, “Yes?”

“Could you please come out of that room now that I’m here?” Alistair’s deep and low voice demanded.

Here? For real? Is he insane?
“I’ll be there in a second. Please, ask Sarah to show you to my office,” she whispered and nudged Edward on the shin with the tip of her boot, she motioned that she needed a small break.

“Thank you so much,” Alistair mocked.

Sophia rose from her chair at the head of the table. “Excuse me, sirs. I’ll return in a minute.”

Every man at the table rose as she did. “Please, stay seated. Mr. Davidoff will continue the meeting.”

She almost ran from the meeting room to her office, waving Sarah’s apologies away. Alistair stood by the floor-to-ceiling window. He looked out at the view, his hands gripping one another behind his back, his spine stiff.

He spun on his heels when he heard the door opening. “What the hell is happening here, Sophia?” His green eyes scorched her through narrowed slits.

“Are you crazy?” She melted at his sight.
How can I be angry with this god?
He wore a black three-piece suit with a pristine white Egyptian cotton shirt and a perfectly knotted silk turquoise tie. “What are you doing here?”

He shoved his hands into his pockets and took deliberately slow steps in her direction, taking full measure of her. She had plaited her hair in a stylish side French braid, adorned with small coral pins, draping it over her right shoulder. As his eyes wandered down, they widened, and he halted. “Your blouse,” he pointed.

“What?” She stopped mid-stride and looked down at the front of her black lace blouse. She extended her arms in front of her to see rips or dirt on the sleeves. “What?” She resumed her steps.

“It’s…” He had no words to describe her.
Ethereal. Bohemian. Exquisite. Whatever!
“It’s not appropriate.”

She stopped again, frowning, “Not appropriate? Why?”

“It’s…” He was speechless. He glared at her and squinted. “It’s… Makes you too desirable. It reveals everything.”

“You need glasses,” she snorted. “It’s just a
trompe-l’oeil
. It has a peach silk lining. The same color as my skin. You can’t see anything.”

His forehead creased and his ink-black eyebrows nearly formed a continuous line. “Still,” his gaze wandered lower as she walked in his direction and his cock awoke leaving him inarticulate and embarrassed.
Bravo!
It shouted,
Bravo!

Her black knee-high, calfskin pencil skirt accompanied her black-laced leather boots with narrow heels. He advanced on her with one long stride, grabbed her by the nape and the butt, and hauled her onto his body.

“Never,” he breathed into her mouth, “ever wear these clothes again to work.” And slanting her head, he kissed her openmouthed, his tongue plunging between her lips.

Sophia gasped at the unexpected attack and gripped his biceps to balance herself. A rush of lust came over her with that sudden display of jealousy and possessiveness. She stood on her tiptoes and arched on his body, returning his kiss, thrusting her hands in his hair and grabbing it.

“On second thought,” he lifted his head an inch to stare at her eyes, “you can stay home. Davidoff is very competent.”

“Stay home?” A raspy laugh spilled from her throat. “Dream on. What are you doing here, Alistair?” she asked again.

“Why didn’t you call me back?” He looked troubled, horny, and totally delectable. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Sophia ran her hands over his strong neck and along his broad shoulders. “Around three thirty.”

“Almost five,” he scowled at her. “I have been trying to reach you since eleven o’clock this morning.”

“I was working,” she offered as an apology. “And I have to return to the meeting.”

“They can wait. I need to talk to you.” His eyes feasted on her; he couldn’t get enough. “Ten minutes.”

“Can
you
wait ten minutes? The meeting is ending. I won’t tarry.” Her fingers combed through his hair, loving the silky feel of it. “If you’re free, we could go to The Athenaeum and have tea, scones with Regents Park honey and,” she licked her lips, “Mmm, Honeycomb Marquis in…” she wiggled her brows at him and glanced at her Crazy Hours watch, “twenty minutes?”

“I’m always available for you, Sophia.” He inhaled a deep breath, his features relaxing. “I’ll wait.”

“Great.” She picked up the phone and directed Sarah to make the booking. “Do you want something? Water, coffee?”

“Just a book or a magazine.”

She grabbed his hand and towed him to the shelf behind her desk, “There.” She smiled and reached up to brush the back of her fingers over his jaw. “It won’t take longer than fifteen minutes. We’ve covered virtually everything.”

“Don’t linger,” he bent to kiss her lips lightly and tugged her braid, in a playful warning. “Or I’ll have to punish you.” His sensuous devilish smile slowly formed on his face and something dark and perilous glinted in his eyes.

“Hmm,” it was almost a moan. “I think I’ll be late, then.”
What kind of punishment, Alistair Connor?

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Yes, by all means, do
. His eyes flickered to the sofa.
Big enough
. He looked at his pink gold Audemars Piguet Royal Oak Chronograph watch and raised both devil-black brows at her, “You’re wasting time, Sophia.”

She whirled, looked over her shoulder at him, a curl on her lips, her big, clear eyes betraying her arousal, and exited the room as he hungrily stared at her gentle sway.

Alistair closed his BMW door and swooped her into his embrace, a cautious but intense look in his wonderful eyes. “I’ve been dying for you all day,” he breathed, “I’ve never needed anyone the way I do you.”

She blinked at the potent desire in his voice. His hands undid the first buttons of her blouse, one by one, the inferno of his green eyes burning her slowly with anticipation.

His fingers brushed over her neck and glided down to her collarbone. The warm air caressed the upper swell of her breasts encased only in a lacy bra as he brushed the material away and pulled her off the car seat onto his lap. “Just the thought of other men-”

She put a finger on his lips. “There are no other men.”

He twirled his tongue on her finger and sucked it into his mouth and Sophia’s breath hitched at the pure carnal feeling that washed over her body and gathered between her thighs.

“Only you,” she whispered.
What is your problem, Sophia? You need more therapy sessions. You need to tell Dr. Kent about this. Why are you only attracted to jealous, neurotic, older men? Gabriel, then Ethan, and now Alistair
. Sophia lost her line of thought as Alistair kissed her throat and glided his mouth to her breast.

He desperately needed to touch her. The insecurity that had been eating at him all day waned as jealousy loosened its grip on his soul and he felt Sophia’s body surrender to passion under his mouth.

He raised his eyelids to peer at her. “You’re so beautiful. I love looking at you.” His hand palmed her breast and she hissed in a breath full of passion. “I want all of you, Sophia. Let me make love to you.”

Make love…
Her eyes closed for a moment before opening again, those beautiful, clear yellow eyes mesmerized by him.

Garrick’s voice interrupted them, “Mr. MacCraig, we’ll arrive at our destination in a minute.”

Sophia scrambled back on the seat, away from Alistair, an alarmed look on her face. “Can he hear us?” She fumbled with the buttons of her blouse, struggling to redo them hastily.

“No, of course not, Sophia,” he scowled.

“So, he knows what we’re up to back here?” She blushed, ashamed and angry at him and at herself.

“No. Absolutely not,” a ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “It’s just a habit of mine. I work in the car all the time and I don’t like being caught unprepared for any arrival.” He frowned at her, “I’ll never share you with another man, Sophia. Never.”

“
I’ll never share you with another man…”
A shudder ran through her. “But will you share me with another woman?”
God! Where did this spring from?

He almost said, “Yes,” but a look on her face prevented it.
More mixed signals, Sophia? Does the idea of a threesome make you horny?

Piccadilly, The Athenaeum.

4.49 p.m.

Their arrival at 116 Piccadilly saved Alistair from answering as the liveried doorman opened the car door.

I can provide a hot blonde in five minutes and we could go upstairs to a suite, forfeiting tea
. His shy sunray hid behind the dark clouds.
Never let it be said I don’t-

A tug on his sleeve interrupted his lascivious and dark thoughts.

“Is everything okay?” Sophia looked at his drawn features with a confused expression.

Stop this, Alistair Connor
. He shook himself briskly. “Aye,” he rocked his neck to one side and then the other, running a hand over his nape to relax the tension. “Yes, everything is okay.” He put her hand in the crook of his arm. “Just a little tense.” He squeezed her hand and smiled at her when she remained quiet.

Sophia raised her eyebrow and glanced away, taking in the beautiful marble hall. “I asked Sarah to make the reservations in your name,” she informed him, feeling strangely subdued.

“Thanks,” he answered dryly, lost in his thoughts.

They approached a beautiful blonde waiting at the corner of the entrance to the Garden Room. “MacCraig, two people, and we would like a table overlooking the garden if possible.” Alistair’s preoccupation stopped him from noticing the warm smile the receptionist gave him.

“Sophia.” Her name, pronounced in a low tone of command, stopped her midway down to her armchair. She looked up and he motioned with his left hand, “On the sofa, please.” He sat beside her on the plush settee and accepted the menus, passing one to her.

“We’re ready to order,” he scanned the menu quickly. “I’ll have the Evergreen Tea with Earl Grey. The lady will have The Regent Park Honey Tea.” He closed his menu and looked at Sophia. “What is your choice of tea?”

“Soom, thank you,” she told the receptionist handed her the menu.

“Thank you, ma’am. Your tea will be here in a few minutes.” The receptionist left their sitting area disappointed that the handsome man hadn’t even looked in her direction or given her a smile.

“Soom?” Alistair shifted to better look at Sophia and twirled her long braid with his fingers, letting the silky touch soothe his mind.

“It’s a rare Darjeeling black only produced from the first flush in March. I like a light afternoon tea,” she answered absentmindedly. “Alistair, what’s the problem?”

“Nothing. Pay me no heed, I had a strange afternoon,” he lied and changed the subject abruptly. “I accepted my father’s invitation to go to Craigdale Castle tomorrow for the weekend. It’s my brother’s birthday. Something small, just family, since he doesn’t want a party.”

“Oh, really?” she inquired and he answered with a small nod. “I’ll miss you.”

“Miss me?” he frowned. “You’re going with me,” he informed, succinctly.

She paused, mid-breath. “I. Am. Going?” The sentence baffled her.
Is this an order, Alistair Connor? Another one?