One Naughty Night2 Read Online Free PDF

eighty turned to study him under their lashes. They all blushed and looked away, only to peek at him again.
    Just as Lily feared she was doing herself.
    She busied herself with taking off her gloves and smoothing her jacket, but her attention kept drifting tohim. Aidan. The slightly exotic, Celtic-sounding name suited him. He was tall and lean like some ancient warrior, with strong shoulders and snakelike hips and—her eyes slid lower—a taut backside in close-fitting trousers above long legs. His rich, glossy brown hair gleamed in the dim light of the cafe, and he shook it back from his brow as he peered over at her. For an instant, his face looked dark and intent, taut as a hawk about to dive onto its prey. His blue eyes, the most unearthly color she had ever seen, narrowed, and she stiffened in her seat. Then he smiled, that charming, careless grin that could capture any woman’s complete attention, and something warm and melting touched Lily deep inside.
    She didn’t like that feeling at all, that sense that her moorings to the real world would snap and she’d drift up into the sky.
    She turned away to pretend to study a menu on the wall. From the corner of her eye, she saw him lean his elbow on the high counter to order. He gave a smile to the waitress, and the girl giggled. Lily studied his profile, the sharply etched perfection of it, the way he casually brushed his hair back. She was accustomed to being around handsome men. The St. Claires were all very good-looking and garnered more than their share of female attention wherever they went. The actors they worked with were often the same. She hardly noticed such things now.
    It was different with Aidan Huntington. She was all too aware of everything about him.
    Don’t be silly
, she told herself. She twisted her soft kid gloves in her hands and forced herself to stay still. Aidan was no danger to her. Not here in this crowded place. Not if she didn’t let him.
    “You look very deep in thought,” she heard him say. She glanced up to see him setting a tray of tea and scones on the table. He smiled at her but it was a different smile, quizzical, questioning. “And not very pleasant thoughts, I would wager.”
    Lily made herself smile in return and reached for the tea to pour. She welcomed the routine, the familiar motions, something to root her in the everyday. “I was just daydreaming, I fear. Organizing things in my mind.”
    “What sort of things?” he asked, watching her closely.
    She peered across the table at him and tried to gauge whether he was merely being polite. But his blue eyes were focused only on her, waiting for her answer.
    She passed him the cup of tea, and his fingers drifted over hers as he took it from her. His touch lingered a little longer than necessary, and she sighed at the warm feeling of his skin on hers, the strength of those elegant fingers. They were slightly rougher than she would expect from a gentleman.
    She glanced down as he slid away and noticed ink stains on his fingers. She remembered his confession on that long-ago night at the Majestic, that he wanted to write plays. She wondered if he still harbored that dream or if being a duke’s spoiled son took all of his time.
    She wondered if he remembered that night at all.
    She shook her head and tried to recall what he had asked her. “I am helping my brother with a new business venture,” she said.
    “Sounds promising,” he answered. “What sort of business?”
    Lily took a sip of her tea and studied him over the white rim of the cup. She almost answered him by name,before she recalled that they were supposed to be strangers. “I don’t even know your name,” she said.
    He gave her that rakish grin again, and she saw the flash of a dimple low in his cheek. She had the strangest, strongest urge to press her fingertip there, to lean across the table and lick him, taste him, feel that tiny indentation on her tongue.
    Lily sat back in her chair in shock. She never had