More Than a Playboy Read Online Free PDF Page B

debonair, drop-dead gorgeous, James Bond look-alike?”
    He flashed what she could only presume was his take on a debonair grin. It came off cheesy and a little drunk.
    Sandy threw her head back and laughed louder than she would have liked, given their surroundings. Despite every effort, she’d never been able to resist Cameron’s wit. “Okay, you’re suave. Happy now?”
    His smile sobered as he stopped dancing. “Almost.” The intensity in his gaze sent a rush of heat to settle low in her abdomen.
    She glanced around her. A row of life-size statues lined the top of the terrace wall, their shadows casting an effective screen over the walled garden-terrace. Lost in banter with Cameron, she hadn’t noticed him manoeuvring them through the French doors onto the roof terrace.
    “I want to kiss you.” Cameron’s deep voice took on a husky note.
    She held his hungry gaze. Her belly spasmed, and she swallowed hard. The truth was she liked being in Cameron’s arms, enjoyed the sensation of his hard shoulder muscles moving beneath her hand as he guided her around the dance floor.
    Sandy hated to admit how much she loved his intoxicating scent, and the rumble of his laughter vibrating from his chest to hers almost made her forget he was the last man with whom she should get involved.
    He held her so close she was aware of every inch of his body pressed to hers. Aware too, that she affected him on a sensual level as much as he did her. She wanted him to kiss her, and if he weren’t Cameron Berkeley-Scott, rich playboy, she’d be jumping his bones right now.
    Against her will, Sandy’s eyes drifted to half-mast. “That’s not a good idea,” she said on a near-whisper, shamed by the breathless quality to her voice.
    He loosened his hold, took a half step back, allowing her the freedom to leave if she chose. She couldn’t bring herself to pull away, instead shifted her attention to one of the white statues carrying a water jug, in the hope he wouldn’t notice the yearning in her gaze.
    When she made no move to step away, Cameron’s arm closed around her waist again, drawing her to him. He urged her gaze back to his with gentle fingers on her chin, lowered his head until his breath caressed her lips. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”
    Quite possibly, it had died with her mother. Sandy straightened her back and pulled out of his embrace, surprised by the lack of real effort needed to separate them. “Where is your sense of decency? We’re work colleagues, Cameron. Nothing more.”
    He tugged his red silk bowtie loose and flipped open the top buttons on his white dress shirt. She’d never seen him look so severe, so controlled. His mouth tightened into a grim line, his eyes—usually sparking with wicked humour—now sparked with blue energy so imperial, it sent nervous tension skittering through her entire body.
    “I want more.”
    She dropped her gaze, only to have it pulled back to him almost straight away. He wasn’t the type of man she needed in her life. “I can’t give you more.”
    With his hair tousled by the cold night breeze, his tie hanging loose around his neck and top buttons undone, he resembled the debonair spy he’d mentioned earlier. Her stomach did a ridiculous flip, a reminder of how easy he could make her lose herself if she gave him the chance.
    Unable to hold his penetrating gaze, she moved to the wall surrounding the terrace and looked over the top. A shiver that had nothing to do with the October chill passed through her. Had her mother experienced this light-headed sensation when she’d climbed onto the ledge of that building in Prague? Sandy swallowed around the lump in her throat—she’d never let a man do that to her.
    Cameron came up behind her. He covered her shoulders with his jacket in a gesture so caring it forced the tears she’d been fighting as she’d thought of her mum, to her eyes.
    He didn’t remove his hands from her shoulders. “Why can’t you, Sandy?” he