All He Wants For Christmas...

‘I’ll do them.’

‘Thank you.’ Ruby made it to the door and into her shoes before job necessities made her turn to Damon once more. ‘I’ve arranged to collect Poppy from the airport at three and bring her here.’

‘I’ll get her.’

‘Lena gets in at six.’

‘I’ll get her too.’

This time Ruby managed to make it through the doorway, shutting the apartment door behind her with a quiet click. She drew a shuddering breath and closed her eyes briefly, before putting one foot determinedly in front of the other as she headed for the lift.

He wanted too much from her. Too much for too little.

There was nothing left to say.

CHAPTER FOUR

HEATSTROKE and insanity. That was what Ruby attributed those scorching kisses to. It was hot. She was insane. Simple.

Exactly what Damon West was, apart from obsessively secretive, was still open to interpretation.

Nothing but a memory, she told herself sternly. That was what she needed him to be. A vivid and beautiful memory that a woman could look to every so often. A memory to accompany a wistful sigh, a tiny half-smile and a harmless game of what-if.

What if he had been that little bit more open with her?

What if she’d made an exception for him?

Ruby had the feeling that, in the years to come, quite a nice little fantasy would follow on from those particular thoughts. Some of the pleasure and none of the pain. Bargain.

But there was no bargain to be had in her encounter with him today. Just heaviness and no small measure of regret.

With the day split wide-open and no work to fill it with, Ruby headed back to the office. To the desk she didn’t deserve and the job that took her two hours a day to do, when she was being paid for eight.

‘Is Russell in?’ she asked Bea, Russell’s proper PA—the one with her finger on the pulse of his business commitments, not his social ones.

Bea nodded, and briefly lifted her gaze from the computer screen to favour Ruby with a laserlike stare. Bea was—without a doubt—ten times more imposing than Russell could ever hope to be. Not that anyone mentioned it.

‘Is he free?’

Another nod and a half-smile this time. ‘Go on in.’

Russell West did not cut a particularly fatherly figure, never mind that his hair was grey and the creases on his face had been there a while. He did cut an authoritative figure. ‘Russell, may I have a moment?’

‘What can I do for you, Ruby?’

‘You can accept my resignation.’ One didn’t beat around the bush with Russell West. Time was money. A great deal of money. ‘I’d like to finish up in the New Year, once we get your major social commitments out of the way.’

‘You mean the Chinese New Year?’

‘Nice try. I mean mid-January.’

‘Why?’ Russell leaned back in his chair, trusting his imposing office surroundings to work to his advantage, which they probably would have had she not been in and out of offices just as grand as this one all her life.

‘Bottom line? The job’s not big enough. I feel like I’m taking money for nothing.’

‘The company’s profit margin has gone up thirty-six per cent since you signed on, Ruby. That’s hardly nothing.’

‘Your social networking strategy needed some work, that’s all. But that was always going to be more of a consultant’s gig than an ongoing role. My work here is done. Nowadays, I’m just filling in time.’

‘You’re welcome to stay on, Ruby. You know that.’

‘I do know that.’ She smiled fondly at the older man. ‘And I can’t thank you enough for giving me work when I needed it. When no one else would. But I want to see if there’s still room for me in the world of law. Even if I have to work gratis for a while until I get the necessary accreditation and experience to go into a particular field. There’s family law. International law. Defence law. Fields where my father’s supposed transgressions won’t—or shouldn’t—reflect back on me. After that, I’ll look towards establishing my own business. It’s a solid plan, don’t you think?’

‘Well, it’s a solid thought,’ he said dryly. ‘I wouldn’t exactly call it a plan. Generally a plan requires details.’

‘I’m working on it,’ she said simply.

‘Do you need start-up capital?’

‘Are you offering it?’

Russell steepled his hands, and regarded her thoughtfully. ‘Yes.’

‘Just like that?’

‘Yes.’

‘Because of your former friendship with my father?’

‘Because I have every confidence in Ruby Maguire’s ability to succeed.’

‘Oh.’ Suddenly Ruby’s big-girl voice deserted her. ‘You’re very kind.’

‘I prefer to use the word astute. Okay, Ruby, resignation accepted. Let Bea know when you want to finish up. And, Ruby, I realise it’s late notice but I do hope you’ll join me and my family for a meal over this Christmas break. Say, tomorrow night or even Christmas Day if you prefer?’

‘Russell, thank you, but—’

‘Christmas is a time for family, I agree,’ he interrupted gruffly. ‘But when family isn’t around you make do. You’ve already met Damon, and I’ve no doubt the girls will enjoy your company. Try making do with us.’

‘I—’

‘Make it Christmas Eve? That way you can join us at the restaurant. You booked for five people, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, but—’

‘We’ll swing by your apartment and pick you up at quarter to seven.’ ‘No, I—’

But Russell and steamroller tactics were old friends. ‘Excellent,’ he said and offered up a small smile. ‘Join us, Ruby. There’s plenty of room at our table. We have family missing this year too.’

Damon met Poppy at the arrival gate and together they hit an airport bar and settled down to wait for Lena. No point dropping Poppy off at the apartment, according to Poppy, and, seeing as it was Poppy’s jet lag they were juggling, Damon went with whatever made his sister happy. A bottle of mineral water and an order of mini spring rolls would hold them. A chance to talk to Poppy alone wouldn’t hurt either.

‘Have you heard from Jared?’ she wanted to know as they settled into the comfiest seats they could find, and Damon watched a little bit of the light go out of his sister’s eyes when he answered no.

‘Do you know where he is?’ she said next. Different question altogether.

‘Not yet, but I think Lena was right and that Jared’s working a job for someone in ASIS. I found a three-month-old file that has Jared’s employee number embedded in it but other than that it’s fully encrypted. It needs translating. Or decoding. Possibly both. Want to give it a shot?’

‘Of course.’

‘It’s probably not a piece of paper you want to go waving around the corridors of Academia.’

‘I gathered that,’ she said lightly. ‘It’s probably not something you’d want to trust anyone with.’

Poppy propped her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. ‘You really don’t want to give it to me, do you?’

‘I really don’t.’ It went against every instinct Damon possessed to drag Poppy into his world of subterfuge and secrets. ‘And don’t trust computers. Even yours.’

‘Are you always this paranoid?’

‘I’m entitled.’ Damon sipped his wine and considered his words. ‘This one’s playing out a little too close to home for comfort, Poppy. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves. We don’t know what Jared’s got himself into, or who’s running him. Time to be careful.’

‘I’ll be careful,’ said Poppy quietly.

By the time Lena’s plane touched down humour had been restored and Damon and Poppy had vacated the bar in favour of waiting for Lena at the arrival gates.

When Lena did finally emerge, she did it from a customs side door, meaning that customs had processed her separately, and she walked with the aid of a stick and the speed of a ninety-year-old. Her once gamine face now looked gaunt and the glaze in her eyes told him that pain ruled her these days. An airport employee walked beside her, towing a suitcase, and the relief on his face as Lena spotted them and waved was palpable.

So much for the full recovery Lena had been spouting about over the phone for the past two weeks.

‘Miss West preferred not to avail herself of our wheelchair services,’ said the airport employee, and with an almost-salute and a harried smile he handed the luggage off to Damon and disappeared back the way he’d come.

‘Told you I could walk,’ said Lena into the silence that followed, and Damon drew her silently into his arms for a hug, horrified anew by his sister’s frailty and the quiet terror he saw in Poppy’s eyes as she stared at her sister.

‘You look wonderful,’ said Lena as Damon released her. ‘Both of you. It’s so good to see you.’

More ‘you look wonderfuls’ and none of them true, followed by ‘how was your flight?’ and then came the question Damon really didn’t want to answer. ‘Have you heard from Jared?’

‘No,’ he murmured. ‘Nothing.’

‘Did you look into finding him?’

‘Yeah,’ he said gruffly, and with a warning glance at Poppy. ‘Nothing yet.’

Poppy picked up on his silent cue and didn’t add to the conversation, but he could tell by her frown that they’d be discussing what to tell Lena and what not to tell her later. Nothing being Damon’s preference by far.

‘I’ll bring the car around,’ he said and nodded towards the nearest door and fled with the luggage before either of his sisters could stop him. He didn’t cope well with the battering Lena had taken. He couldn’t look at her without remembering just how close they’d come to losing her, and if he knew his response was childish and unhelpful, well … Jared’s had been worse.

Jared had damn near lost his mind when the doctor had told them that if Lena lived, chances were she wouldn’t be able to walk.

Lena had been under Jared’s command when she’d been injured—a simple recon of a suspected biological weapons lab in East Timor had gone badly wrong. The last thing Lena remembered was heavy crossfire, sticky blood, and lying in the dirt and looking up at the sky. God only knew what Jared remembered about the way things had gone down, or what he held himself responsible for.

Jared had haunted the hospital until Lena had regained consciousness. He’d told Lena that the mission had been compromised from the start and that he had some business to attend to. He’d told her he’d be back as soon as he could.

That had been six months ago.

Damn right ‘Have you heard from Jared?’ was the first question everyone in this family asked.

Supper that evening had a festive note to it, thanks in no small measure to Ruby Maguire’s pampering.

A tree had appeared in the atrium. A fibre-optic plastic fantastic, with a scattering of perfectly wrapped presents beneath—including one for him from his father that Damon knew full well meant that Ruby had shopped again for him on his father’s behalf.

The tree should have looked gaudy but dim the regular lights and set it to shining and it looked magical instead. Fine wine filled the wine chiller and the light supper fare Russell pulled from the fridge found immediate favour with the girls.

‘Dad, is there something you’re not telling us?’ asked Lena from her perch on the sofa as Poppy beat an unhurried path to the bar, poured two glasses of wine and took one over to Lena with low-key grace and unobtrusiveness. ‘Supper is perfect, Poppy’s just handed me a glass of my favourite white, there are fresh flowers everywhere, and are those fairy lights out on the terrace? They are, aren’t they? I’m sensing a woman’s touch. And not just a housekeeper.’

‘Ruby’s been in,’ said Russell, offhand, and Damon smothered a grin as Lena tried to digest that little snippet without giving in to rampant curiosity.

‘Ruby’s Dad’s social planner,’ Damon murmured helpfully.

‘His what?’

‘She’s doing Christmas for him,’ he added, unable to resist winding his sister up just that little bit more.

‘Ruby’s the daughter of an old colleague of mine,’ said Russell evenly. ‘She needed a job. I gave her one. You’ll meet her tomorrow. I’ve invited her to dine with us.’

‘As your … companion?’ asked Poppy delicately as she handed their father a G and T and dangled a beer in front of Damon. A beer Damon ignored, so intent was he on hearing his father’s reply.

‘Ruby’s younger than you are, Poppet. Credit an old man with some sense.’

Poppy wiggled the beer in front of Damon’s face. Damon took it and remembered how to breathe.

‘So why is she joining us for dinner?’ asked Lena.

‘Ruby’s on her own this Christmas due to … unforeseen circumstances,’ said Russell. ‘I thought you’d enjoy her company and she yours. Damon’s met her.’

Yes, he had. And he hadn’t exactly come away unscathed.

His sisters were eyeing him speculatively. ‘What?’ he asked warily.

‘What’s she like?’ asked Lena.

‘Organised.’ And because he knew his sisters well enough to know that they’d be wanting more, he added, ‘Confident.’

‘Attractive?’ asked Poppy.

‘I guess,’ he muttered and watched in dismay as Poppy and Lena exchanged glances.

‘What?’

‘He likes her,’ said Lena. ‘Yeah, I’m getting that too,’ murmured Poppy.

‘How?’ he wanted to know. ‘How could you possibly get that from this conversation?’

‘Instinct,’ said Lena sagely.

‘Not exactly an accurate science,’ he countered.

Poppy just smiled.

‘So what was Ruby before she became a Christmas elf?’ asked Lena. ‘A stranded socialite?’

‘A corporate lawyer,’ said his father. ‘She’ll go back to practising some form of law soon, I believe. Just not corporate.’

‘Why not corporate?’ asked Lena.

‘Why not ask her yourself?’ Damon murmured and earned another set of curious glances for his efforts. So much easier to dissect someone else’s life as opposed to examining one’s own. ‘Alternatively, don’t be nosy.’

‘He knows,’ Lena said to her sister. ‘Yep,’ agreed Poppy.

‘All I’m saying is that everyone’s entitled to their secrets,’ offered Damon. ‘Why not let Ruby keep hers?’

‘He really likes her,’ said Lena, staring at him in amazement.

Poppy just looked at him and smiled her gentle smile.

Ruby prepared for dinner with Russell West and his family on Christmas Eve with a great many misgivings, most of them centred around seeing Damon again. She toyed with the idea of phoning Russell and pleading ill for the evening. Lies were useful, at times. Everybody lied.

Except she’d made honesty her platform when it came to dealing with Damon West, and how could she demand something from him that she wasn’t prepared to give?

Opening up her wardrobe at 5:00 p.m. with almost two hours to go until pick-up gave some indication of her state of apprehension. The restaurant encouraged formal evening wear. Suits for the gentlemen, couture for the ladies. What would Poppy and Lena be wearing? Not colours, if Damon could be believed, and in this he probably could.

‘What’ll I wear, C?’ she asked the little tortoiseshell beast who hovered in the doorway behind her, hedging his bets as to whether he would come into the room or stay out. ‘Little black dress?’ She pulled two from her cupboard, one strapless and fitted, the other one more modest but still fitted. Not really one for hiding her curves, Ruby.

Curves were assets and assets worked best when seen.

‘Too bleak for a Christmas dinner? I agree. What about the purple? Gorgeous cut, not too daring and there’s a matching headband. Damon’s going to love that. It’ll give him something external to focus on, as opposed to worming his way inside my head and digging around. Excellent idea.’

Showering and dressing for dinner didn’t take Ruby long. Six o’clock arrived, bringing with it yet another bundle of nerves for her to carry to the dinner table. Six-fifteen arrived and Ruby’s patience with waiting and stewing, and stewing and waiting, ran out.

She rang Russell and told him she had a few errands to see to and that she would meet them at the restaurant at seven, no need for anyone to pick her up. Russell agreed and Ruby breathed a sigh of relief because arriving separately gave her mobility and options when it came to ending the evening on her terms.

‘Win for Ruby,’ she told the little cat when she got off the phone. ‘Russell must have been distracted.’

At exactly 7:00 p.m., Ruby walked into the restaurant to find the Wests taking possession of narrow flutes of champagne in the pre-dinner area. They made a pretty picture, all of them together, although the family resemblance was not that strong. Damon had black hair and so did Lena. Poppy’s hair was a honey-blonde colour, and Russell’s had salted to grey.

Poppy had cornflower-blue eyes and a touch of fairy in her, thought Ruby fancifully. Lena’s eye colour tended more towards greyscale than blue and conjured up a touch of the devil. Different souls altogether, these two, but their smiles had a similar shape to them, and their voices—as they greeted Ruby politely—had a velvet musical quality to them that delighted the ear.

Lena wore slimline black trousers and a cream-coloured camisole that served only to emphasise her pallor and her fragility. Poppy fared better in a midnight-blue and silver A-line dress and a pretty pair of strappy silver sandals. Heaven only knew what they thought of Ruby’s choice of apparel for the evening, but she could probably hazard a guess. Too theatrical, way too bright …

Wonder what else they didn’t have in common?

And then Ruby turned to Damon and shouldered the impact of him dressed in crisp evening wear with as much panache as she could. A wry smile for him alone, and a promise to herself not to make this evening any more difficult than it already was. Be polite. Don’t get personal. Keep her fascination for this man to herself. ‘Damon.’

‘Ruby.’ How would he play this, for they hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms? Cool and distant? Politely dismissive? What? All he had to do was give her a clue and she would follow his lead. ‘Nice headband.’

Was he … teasing her?

‘Thank you.’ This one had a chiffon butterfly perched above her left ear. ‘Not too plain?’

‘Not at all.’ A twitch of his lips. ‘It’s very festive.’

‘Well, I try.’ A swift glance down at his elegant charcoal tie, white shirt and charcoal suit, followed by the arch of her eyebrow told him exactly what she thought of his attempts at brightening up a person’s day.

Damon’s smile widened and Ruby felt herself relax, just a little. She turned back to Lena to find the other woman getting rid of a grin but leaning rather heavily on her cane. ‘I’m sorry to have kept you all waiting,’ she said. ‘I hear the dining experience here is superb. Shall we take the champagne in and be seated?’

That took time, and ordering the meals took more. Conversation flowed around food likes and dislikes, and how long Ruby had been living in Hong Kong, and what she liked best about the expat lifestyle. From there it moved on to people’s favourite places around the globe, a conversation even Poppy joined in, albeit shyly.

Social lubrication—Ruby was good at it, she’d been tutored by the best. But she’d been tutored in leading a conversation, not letting it ebb and flow at will. Get so-and-so to talk about this, her father would say, and sometimes he’d simply been training her and sometimes he’d been after information. Not a skill she wanted to employ at this table.

Don’t lead. It was her second motto for the evening, right up there behind don’t drool on Damon.

She managed to avoid both for quite some time. Right up until Russell mentioned that she’d soon be leaving his employ and Damon speared her with a glittering sapphire gaze.

‘Why?’ he wanted to know curtly, all pretence of social distance shattered.

‘I want to get back to practising some kind of law,’ Ruby offered carefully. Nothing to do with Damon, or what had transpired between them; she needed him to know that. ‘I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. And then a remark someone made to me recently about my particular skill set cemented the notion that maybe I shouldn’t have given up on a law career quite so quickly. You know how it is.’ She smiled a quick smile. ‘Sometimes it takes a stranger with a fresh eye to point out the obvious.’

‘Will you stay in Hong Kong?’ Another Damon question.

‘There’s no pressing need to stay here, no,’ murmured Ruby. An answer Damon would probably find hypocritical given her fully voiced views on his inability to settle in any one place. ‘I might try Geneva.’

‘Are you interested in humanitarian law?’ asked Poppy tentatively.

‘Maybe. It’s worth exploring as an option, at any rate. I’d need to retrain. Not that that’s a problem.’

Ruby glanced at Damon and found him staring at her as if perplexed, and then his gaze cut to her choice of hair accessory as if that perplexed him even more. ‘It’s just a headband, Damon. A festive touch for a festive occasion. It doesn’t define me.’

‘I noticed that,’ he countered quietly and held her gaze, and Ruby cursed herself for her oversensitivity when it came to what this man thought of her, and for revealing that sensitivity to him and everyone else at this table.

Time to reach for her wine and shut her mouth and hope that someone else’s manners would prevail when clearly hers had not.

‘Geneva’s a pleasant city,’ said Damon as a waiter appeared from nowhere to top up everyone’s wineglasses. ‘I was there this time last week, on my way through from a job in Brussels. Catching up with an old employer.’

Damon didn’t look at her as he delivered his words. He didn’t look at anyone, just locked his gaze on the entreé another waiter placed in front of him and kept it there. ‘He took me on a backdoor tour through the Palace of Nations. I recommend it.’

Ruby wasn’t the only one who stared at him in astonishment. Both Lena and Poppy were gaping at him too.

Where to begin? What to pick up on? What to leave the hell alone?

‘Huh,’ said Lena, amazement running deeply through that one incautious sound.

Ruby couldn’t even manage that.

‘You didn’t tell me you were in Brussels?’ said Poppy, and her voice held disappointment and sorrow rather than amazement. ‘We could have met up somewhere. Oxford’s not that far away.’

‘Sorry, Poppy.’ Damon shot Poppy a guarded glance. ‘You know I don’t do family when I’m working.’

What the hell did Damon West do for a living that he had to eschew his family while he was doing it?

But Damon didn’t say and Ruby sure as hell didn’t ask. She just looked at him and Damon looked back, his bleak gaze meeting hers, and there was no smile in them, no invitation, just a man who knew he’d said too much already and had to shut it down before he came unstuck completely.

‘Pretty place, Brussels,’ she said, in a weak attempt to halt the growing silence. ‘It’s probably my favourite city centre of all the European cities. Not too big or overwhelming.’ Unlike, say, Damon’s attempt at openness and transparency. ‘And then there’s the chocolate.’

‘And the waffles,’ said Lena, joining the rescue party. ‘And the beer.’

‘Cherry beer,’ said Ruby.

‘Trappist beer,’ said Lena, and with a gamine grin, ‘Warm beer. Something for everyone.’

‘Indeed.’ Ruby could come to like Lena. A lot. ‘Damon, what did you like best about Brussels?’ Keeping it casual, forcing a direction, and to hell with letting the conversation find its own ebb and flow. Ruby had the helm now, and she was keeping it.

‘The history,’ he said, and talk turned to the fields of Flanders and the hallmarks of war.

Wine flowed and the food was indeed superb. Conversation flowed too, and turned to future endeavours. To Lena hoping to build her strength and get back to work, and Poppy, who couldn’t decide whether to learn Korean or study Mayan script, and to Russell, who wanted to expand his banking services into Shanghai. No one asked Damon what lay on his horizon and he didn’t say.

Washington, DC, perhaps? Maybe some other old employer would whiz him through the White House in their spare time?

Dessert was worth waiting for, and then it was time for Ruby to thank Russell for the marvellous meal, wish them all a Merry Christmas and see herself home.

She thought she’d executed a clean getaway as Damon rose to pull out her chair.

Until Russell insisted on everyone heading to the hotel foyer together, presumably so they could see her into a taxi, only by the time they got there Russell had rearranged events to his liking, in that everyone could fit in the limo, and his chauffeur would drive everyone home.

Ruby knew when to cut her losses and go with a superior plan, only by the time they arrived at Russell’s high rise the plan had changed again.

Ruby didn’t even see it coming until Russell alighted and helped Lena and Poppy from the car, and then leaned back down and asked Damon to see Ruby home, and by then the limo door was closing, and the limo—with her and Damon in it—was pulling smoothly away from the kerb.

‘Old fox. He planned that,’ she murmured, and Damon responded with a smile. ‘And you let him.’

‘My father has a chivalrous streak,’ countered Damon.’ Surely you know that by now.’

She did know that. ‘And you? What kind of streak do you have?’

‘Right now I’m going to have to go with masochistic,’ he said with a twist of his lips as he leaned his head back against the black leather interior of the limo. Had Damon known how intimate this ride would be with the others gone and just the two of them in here now?

And then he turned his head towards her and the seat space she’d made sure to put between them seemed to disappear. ‘I tried to answer your question,’ he said quietly.

‘I know.’ And in doing so he’d got to her. Again. ‘Did you think it would get you into my bed?’

‘Not really, no.’

‘Then why do it?’

‘Maybe I just wanted to know what it felt like to be that open.’

‘And what did it feel like?’

‘Wrong.’

They lapsed into silence again, a brooding, swirling silence that complemented the black leather seats and the cavernous limo interior. Ruby rested her head back against the seat and closed her eyes against the pull of him.

She’d wanted honesty from him. She hadn’t realised just how much it would hurt.

‘Maybe it’ll get easier,’ she offered quietly. ‘Maybe you just need to find the right person.’

‘Maybe.’ But the word held a world of defeat in it, and Ruby opened weary eyes and turned her head and held his gaze.

She edged a little closer, moving slowly. It was the only way she knew to approach such a wild and wary thing. He didn’t move towards her, but he didn’t move away. Just watched in silence and when she set gentle lips to his he shuddered in silence too, before pulling slowly away.

‘What was that for?’ he whispered.

‘That was for you. For trying, because I asked you to, even if it didn’t go so well. Consider it my Thank You.’

‘Oh.’

This time he was the one to initiate the meeting of lips, and although he had no way with words he knew exactly how to pour emotion into a kiss. Longing and regret and she knew he still wanted her in spite of his inability to be open with her, and it made her want to cry.

‘That was You’re Welcome,’ he whispered.

And then he kissed her again and she wound her arms around his neck and his hands were gentle on her waist as he drew her onto him, over him, and pressing up into her with a sensuality she’d always known he commanded.

Not just kisses any more but the slide of her body against his and the rapid beating of his heart beneath her hand. He had a connoisseur’s touch and she had a powerful need for that touch tonight. Did it really matter that she knew next to nothing about him and probably never would? She knew he wanted her—wasn’t that enough?

Passion fed and passion burned as their kisses grew deeper and more urgent, and when the limo started to slow and Ruby looked out of the window through glazed eyes and saw her high rise up ahead she groaned, and Damon groaned with her.

‘Drive with me a while,’ he whispered, and she knew what he was asking and she’d resisted him before but there was no resisting him now.

Slowly, she lifted her hand to her headband and slid it from her head and dropped it to the floor. ‘Yes.’

Damon reached for the intercom switch and said, ‘Take us for a drive,’ and the limo moved off.

Time enough now to loosen Damon’s tie, and the buttons on his shirt, with her forehead pressed to his and their breath mingling as he slid the straps of her dress down her arms with gentle fingers.

‘Tell me you know what you’re getting us into,’ he muttered. ‘Tell me you know what you’re doing.’

‘I know what I’m doing.’ While the top of her dress peeled away from her body and she drew his head down to the curve of her breast. ‘So do you.’ As her strapless bra came apart beneath his fingers and he claimed her nipple with his lips and set her to arching back and biting her own.

He explored every hollow and worshipped every curve and before too many minutes had passed he had her beneath him on the seat, half naked and wholly mindless as he moved inside her, every stroke a revelation.

‘Tell me you can taste the truth in this,’ he whispered. ‘In me.’

‘I do taste it.’

In the way he savoured her, honoured her, and in the way his touch made her tremble. ‘Tell me you won’t regret this.’

‘Never. Damon, not ever.’ As the driver kept driving and Ruby and Damon got lost in each other.

It had to end eventually. Love-making always had to end. With Ruby climaxing in Damon’s arms as he emptied himself into her. With Damon swallowing her cries of completion and groaning softly as her body grew boneless and his did too, and somehow she ended up stretched out on top of him, with Damon’s arms around her waist keeping her there.

The interior of the limo looked like someone’s messy closet. Her clothes would be here somewhere and she would get around to putting them back on soon.