At the Spaniard's Pleasure by Jacqueline Baird Read Free Book Online

smoothing the fabric over her stomach and thighs. ‘Greta is going to serve the meal in a minute.’ His glance roamed over her face and figure with obvious male approval that, had it been any other man, would have made her angry, but instead the lingering touch of his fingers on her thighs made her whole body tingle with excitement.
    â€˜I am hungry, and I’m sure you are too,’ Nick drawled with silken emphasis.
    She tensed at the impact of his compelling dark gaze. Was it just food he was hungry for? Dear heaven, her own appetite had been seriously depleted by the erotic thoughts Nick aroused in her. She felt as if a thousand butterflies were partying in her stomach, and she tore her eyes away from his and cast a slightly panicked look around the room.
    What were her options? Get up and walk out? But that would be childish. Or stay and eat like a civilised woman? Suddenly she was no longer feeling quite so confident. But her mind was made up for her as Greta reappeared carrying a large silver tureen, followed by Paul carrying a bottle of champagne in a silver wine bucket. They both smiled at her.

CHAPTER THREE
    T HE champagne cork popped and Liza jumped, and then grinned. She was overreacting—everything was perfect. Nick was seated at the head of the table and Paul was filling crystal flutes with very expensive champagne, and Greta was serving a delicious fish soup into the finest porcelain bowls.
    When they had both left Nick picked up his glass, and said, ‘Here’s to you, Liza, and a pleasant evening, for both of us.’
    She managed to control the slight nervousness that assailed her when they were alone, and she lifted her glass. ‘I’ll drink to that.’ Her steady voice and hand gratified her no end as they touched glasses.
    Nick grinned and swirled the liquid around in his glass, then lifted it to his lips and swallowed before returning the glass to the table.
    Liza followed the movement, her gaze stopping at his perfectly sculptured mouth, and she was helpless against the flush of heat that flooded her body as he took a deep drink of the champagne. Realising she was staring, she took a hasty drink from her glass. ‘Lovely champagne,’ she enthused. And saw him nod, his dark eyes lifting to hers.
    â€˜Lovely companion.’ He touched his glass to hers again and then added, ‘And I am glad you agreed to dining here, Liza. Restaurants can be so impersonal sometimes, and I really want to talk to you, reminisce, and perhaps discover what has shaped you into the very lovely lady you are today.’ His glance dropped from her face to the firm curves of her breasts, and she felt them tighten alarmingly againstthe silk fabric of her dress. ‘Get to know the real you again.’
    â€˜That sounds ominous,’ she offered and, dropping her head, praying he would not notice her body’s instant reaction, she added, ‘You might not like the real me,’ and carefully placed her glass on the table. Quickly she picked up a spoon and began shovelling the soup into her mouth. When she dared look up again, she needed not have worried.
    â€˜Impossible. I already adore you, as you know; I have since you were a child,’ he said smoothly, his expression wryly amused. ‘Now, let us enjoy our meal, and you can tell me what you have been doing with your life over the past few years.’ His smile was irresistible.
    â€˜Not a lot.’ Flattered, Liza grinned back. ‘And certainly nothing exciting enough to need privacy before disclosure.’ And she proceeded to give him a potted history of her adult life. ‘Three years in university reading history, and a job I enjoy, as I told you before. I have a studio apartment in London and I visit my mother every few weeks. She got married again three years ago and lives in Brighton, running an antique shop with Jeff, my stepfather. These are hardly state secrets.’
    â€˜Oh, I don’t