Sarah Randall - His Irresistible Darling

He nodded in concession and took hold of the apple and bit into it.

***

Pip was mesmerised as he licked his lips to catch the juice before handing it back to her. She mentally shook herself and took hold of the apple. They finished it off in quick time, passing it back and forth before sharing the water. When the hell did sharing an apple ever become a sensual activity?

He raised a brow in interest. “Have you got anything else in that magic box of yours? Perhaps a bottle of champagne and some caviar?” he asked playfully, nodding towards her bag.

“M&M’s and some Smarties.”

“Bring ‘em on out then,” he said motioning with his hand. “May as well work our way through them and into a diabetic coma. You have a sweet tooth, Miss Darling.”

“One that you should be eternally grateful for—” she held the sweets back in her hand dramatically “—and I am only sharing if I get all the orange Smarties.”

“What’s the difference? They all taste the same, don’t they?” he asked, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

“They do not,” she admonished, shaking her head in outrage.

She proceeded to divide out the sweets between them. “Open wide,” she told him and popped an orange Smartie in as he quickly complied. She blushed as her fingers accidentally touched his lips.

She watched him closely as he mulled over the taste like a sommelier in the posh restaurants he no doubt frequented. “So they do,” he admitted quietly a few seconds later.

“So maybe next time you’ll believe me when I tell you something,” she said, inclining her head, “and stop treating me like a clueless adolescent.”

“Maybe I will, Miss Darling.”

***

“God it’s getting hot in here,” Pip complained as she stood up to strip off her cardigan and threw it down next to the jacket and shoes she’d stripped off long ago. “They said they’d have us out of here shortly and that was over two hours ago.” She suddenly dropped down on her haunches and grabbed at his arm. “Do you think there’s something wrong that they aren’t telling us?” she asked anxiously. “Like in that film.”

“No.” Jumal had closed eyes and was concentrating hard on not looking at her body and pondering just how many clothes she planned to strip off. She was now only sporting a tight pencil skirt, which in no way outlined the perfect shape of her backside, and a vest top with tiny straps. And her perfume was once again driving him wild in such close confinement. What the hell was it? He started to feel sorry for those idiotic dogs in the neighbourhood who ran around desperately with their tongues hanging out when a lady dog was in season!

He jerked his eyes open when Pip began to pace and sing a song again.

“Please Allah, no more singing, Pippa. I beg you.”

She feigned offence and gasped. “I’m bored and hot and did I mention—I’m bored !?” she shouted, frustrated. “How can you be so calm?” she threw at him, plonking herself back on the floor, directly opposite him, their legs lying next to each other.

“Yes,” he said calmly. “I do believe you may have mentioned that you are bored once or twice.” He watched her through narrowed eyes as she fidgeted, strummed her fingers on the floor either side of her hips and puffed out a breath, blowing her fringe off her forehead. He’d noticed she did it often. He really shouldn’t be noticing her charming little quirks.

“So, I never asked how you managed to convince your university to allow you to do your gap year at the end of your course. Isn’t it supposed to be in the third year?” he asked, keen to distract her from the singing.

“Well, after what happened with my parents I wasn’t really in the right state of mind to go away and work in industry for my third year. Matt and I spoke to my course administrator and they agreed that I could spend my third year earning enough credits and doing my dissertation and roll over my placement to the final year.” She took a deep breath. “I just needed to be at home and thankfully they agreed as I had good grades.”

“Hmm.” He nodded in understanding. “And have you any idea what you want to do after you finish your degree?”

“Some ideas yeah.” She pursed her lips and cocked her head to one side. “Ana has asked me to work with her and her business partner in their growing fashion empire. They want me to do their marketing and PR but—” She paused and shrugged her shoulders.

“What?” He inclined his head to try to catch the look in her eyes, which were always so expressive.

“Well, I know I should be grateful and all. I mean so many graduates struggle to get jobs but, well, I guess I just want to make my own mark, you know?” She shrugged again as she finally met his eyes but looked away too quickly. “I mean the job would be perfect for me but I’d always feel that I was only successful in getting it because of Ana and Matt. That’s not what I want.” She fidgeted again and curled her legs up under her body.

“I can understand that perfectly,” he said in agreement.

“You can?” she asked and offered him an appreciative smile; his heartbeat quickened and something odd flipped in his stomach, which had nothing to do with his hunger pangs.

“Sure. It’s admirable and if I had my time over I’d like to do something different.”

“Really?” she asked raising a brow and leaning forward slightly. “But you’re amazing at running your business.”

He smirked at her. “Careful, Miss Darling, you are in danger of giving me praise.”

“Well, you’re only amazing due to the exceptional quality of your PA, of course,” she jibed, returning the grin and sitting back.

“Ah yes, right, of course.” He nodded and stared down at his hands. “And I believe I have you to thank for the beautiful and no doubt expensive gift that I sent to Mr and Mrs Ansari congratulating them on their fiftieth wedding anniversary?”

“Oh. It’s okay, you already thanked me,” she said, waving her hands dismissively at him.

“I did?” he asked, confused, taking a sip from the bottle of water.

“Well, your friendly black AMEX did to be precise. The sales assistant in the lingerie shop managed to convince me to go for the new Booster Bra but I’m not so sure it works,” she mused, peering down her top. Jumal choked on his water; for a second he thought she was about to show him! Bloody hell, it was getting hot in here. He coughed again, trying to clear his throat, and caught her wry smile at him. He could never tell when she was joking.

He watched her root around in her bag, almost afraid to ask. “What’s that?”

“A stress ball. For when I’m stressed,” she replied, squeezing it. “Like now.”

Jumal winced and crossed his legs at his ankles as he observed her continually crush and release the ball in her petite hands. He could almost pity the poor man she eventually married, yet that very thought also made him want to punch the glass. He struggled to understand the dichotomy of his reactions to Miss Darling.

“So did you have a good meeting with Mr Ansari today?” She interrupted his dangerous thoughts.

“Yes it was very productive, once he stopped gushing about you and the present I sent. He has a good company and is very keen to work with us on the Dubai deal. He can supply over seventy per cent of the metal materials we’re going to need and he has excellent connections. Did you know his daughter recently married Daniel Vincini?”

“Yes, I read the gossip magazines, and you also sent them a very thoughtful gift with warm wishes for their future happiness,” she quoted.

The Vincini family were the Italian family in Sicily and ran a very successful private luxury cruise company. Their elegant and exclusive ships were regular visitors in the fashionable ports around the Mediterranean. Despite being dwarfed by the city-sized cruise liners, the Vincini ships managed to hold their own and set themselves apart with a legion of faithful followers.