Free A Perilous Eden by Heather Graham Page A

hold a woman close, how to touch her.
    Her head fell back slightly, and she looked into his eyes. She was startled by the intensity of his gaze, then felt as if the fire of it was flooding through her. A rose tint colored her cheeks as she realized that she was thinking about going to bed with this man again. She didn’t know him at all, but when she looked at him, when she felt his touch, she wanted to forget the past and the future and imagine that the present could go on forever. He wasn’t holding her too closely, and yet she knew that his thoughts were running dangerously parallel to her own. She knew from his eyes that though he might want to keep his distance from her, he was fascinated in spite of himself. He might not have wanted to give her even so much as his name, but strip away their environs, their hostess and the guests, the fabrics, the silks and the satins, the Chinese lanterns … strip it all down to the basics, and he wanted her, too.
    She swallowed convulsively, thinking that they’d barely exchanged a few dozen words, and yet intimate, forbidden things were taking place between them. She wanted to pull away, to run from him as she had never run in her life. But stronger than the urge to run was the desire to know. To go on touching him. To find out where this might lead …
    She needed to speak, to do something to break the tension between them. She moistened her lips and smiled, and yet she felt that there could be no small talk between them, that whatever she said had to be honest.
    â€œI saw you in the park,” she said.
    â€œYes,” he told her.
    â€œAre you with the government?”
    He hesitated for a second. “Perhaps. I’m not sure yet. I’m thinking of taking a job.”
    Security, Amber thought. It had to be a security position.
    â€œI’ve been out of the country for a long time,” he supplied.
    â€œBusiness or pleasure?”
    He was quiet for a moment, his hand moving against the small of her back. He seemed to look down at her from a great height, and a shield of ice seemed to have fallen over his eyes. “You are forward, Miss Larkspur.”
    â€œAm I?” And he didn’t answer questions very well. But he’d been watching Ian Daldrin. He had to be considering a security position with the senator.
    â€œUm. Business and pleasure,” he said. “And all over.”
    â€œAll over?”
    â€œI’ve been all over the globe, Miss—”
    â€œAmber. Please.” She felt as if he knew her inside and out, and he was still calling her Miss Larkspur.
    He smiled suddenly. “‘Forever Amber’?” he queried softly. His words, his whisper, just touched her ear. “I saw the movie. Does your nature run so freely and passionately, too?”
    â€œNow you’re being forward.”
    â€œYes, but I gave you an answer.”
    This was the time to end it, to pull away and never see him again. She would let him remain in her heart, a fantasy. But she didn’t pull away. Instead she moved with him, moved on the air. She felt the dip and sway of the Chinese lanterns, felt his eyes, felt the magic of the colored lights rippling on the water. And she kept her gaze level with his.
    She felt as if his hand was trembling slightly, as if he wanted to pull her closer. As if the frost had left his eyes for a brief moment. Then he did pull her close, and for a moment they touched so fully that she felt his startling heat and vibrance from her breast down to her thighs. Then he released her, and she realized the music had stopped.
    â€œAmber!” She heard her father’s voice. He was standing behind her, his tone sharp.
    Michael Adams stepped away, but his eyes remained on her. “Mr. Larkspur,” he said, acknowledging her father’s presence but still watching Amber. “Thank you for the dance, Miss Larkspur,” he said.
    Then he turned and disappeared into the crowd. The music