stop talking now. He didnât want to talk. Not about this. Not about the darkest part of his life. But he couldnât even manage those few words.
For years, heâd have given anything to find a way to block out the pain. But there had never been a business coup perfect enough, or a person who touched his life deeply enough, to make the bitter past go away.
But here was Abby, sitting patiently beside him. Her warmth passed through the air between them, andthe touch of her fingers lightly on his hand was soothing. The past didnât leave, but it felt somehow easier to bear.
Reaching up, she stroked the side of his cheek. He turned into her hand. She was an angel.
Matt sensed that he was moving toward her without any conscious effort. The space between them shrank by inches, until he was looking into her pretty eyes, until they were too close to be proper for any but lovers.
âI canât tell you why people leave,â she whispered. âBut they do. Even when they love us, or we believe they doâ¦they leave.â
He frowned. What was she telling him? That she too had been abandoned by someone? Not her parents. Sheâd told him they still lived outside of Chicago. A man, he thought. Someone sheâd cared for had hurt her profoundly.
He wasnât aware of the final subtle movement that brought their lips together. But there they were, suddenly, touchingâ¦and the effect was like fire racing through his veins. He forgot about the driver on the other side of the privacy screen, forgot about the city, about appointments and deals and profit ratios. The world outside the limo no longer existed.
He pulled Abby to him. She willingly pressed into his chest and returned his kiss with sweet fervor. She tasted like honey and unshed tearsâsweet and salty in the same moment. Raking his fingers through her hair, he tugged her head back to kiss her throat. She moaned low, and he felt the vibrations of her pleasure against his lips.
âI wishâ¦I wish,â he gasped between kisses.
âYes?â she murmured dreamily.
âWhat are the chances we could cancel this meeting withâ¦I canât even think of the manâs name now.â He laughed, irritated with himself for feeling utterly powerless.
âItâs too late.â Too late, she thought, for a lot of things. Like stopping the rush of emotions that had engulfed her.
He kissed her once, twice, three times on the lips quickly, stroked her wrists, her throat, swept tendrils of hair away from her misty eyes. âTonight. After this is over. We are going to continue this.â
She started to open her mouth, not to protest, but to ask him if he was sure this was what he wanted, because she wasnât sure of anything in her own mind or heart. He silenced her with another kiss before she could say a word.
âIâve never needed anyone,â he said solemnly. âDo you understand that, Abby? Never. But I need you now, if you are willing. I promise, this wonât change a thing about our working together. Iâll make it right. Donât be afraid.â
âIâm not afraid,â she said truthfully. Abby framed his strong face with her palms, brought him closer again, and kissed him firmly on the mouth. Suddenly, she knew. âI want you, too.â
Â
Abby thought the meeting that night would never end. The woman, who was marketing director of a large French vineyard, enjoyed long, leisurely dinners and wanted to talk about every aspect of Mattâs business. There had been no way to cut the evening short.
On the way back to the hotel in the limo, Matt and Abby sat far apart on the leather bench, as if by mutual agreement. Abby was sure if she touched him atall, they both would spontaneously ignite. Besides, she needed time to think, time to plan how to tell him that she was a virgin before they reached a bed. But by the time they stood elbow to elbow in the elevator, she still