just like the rest.â
âOh no.â She shook her head. There was no way Daniel was slotting her brother into the likes of his damned fortune-hunters. âJake isnât like thatâeven if those others were, and youâve given me no proof of that. Jake isnât interested in her money. He loves Monica.â
âOf course he does,â he sneered. âHow long exactly have they known each other? A fortnight? A month?â
âSome people donât need that long to know the person theyâre with is the one they want to spend the rest of their lives with.â
âIs that so? Next youâll be telling me you believe in love at first sight.â
âIt happens.â
âBut of course you would have to say that, in your line of work. You want people to get married; you donât actually care if they stay married.â
Sophie turned for the door. âLook, Iâm leaving. I donât have to put up with this.â
But he was already there in front of her, blocking her exit, and again she was struck by the way he moved with such effortless grace for such a powerfully built man. But it was what he was doing to her internal thermostat that concerned her more. Again heâd tripped some switch that sent her body from frigid to simmering in an instant. Her skin prickled with heat, her nerve endings tingled with awareness and it was only the portfolio clutched in her folded arms that concealed her rock-hard nipples.
It was in his eyes, she realised as he stared down at her. In his dark, challenging eyes that could suddenly turn from cold and flat to molten pools that radiated their heat to hers and then downwards to her very extremities. Eyes that were telling her things that made no sense, yet still her toes curled in her shoes.
Then he smiled and reached out a hand, running the backs of his fingers down her cheek so gently that she trembled under his electric touch. It was like being in a bubble where the room had shrunk to a tiny space around them, where even her peripheral vision had shrunk to fit no more than his broad shoulders. âIf I said to you right now âmarry meâ, would you say yes?â
His voice seemed to come from a long, long way away, while his thumb stroked her chin; her lips parted on a sigh. âMr Caruanaâ¦â She swallowed, her thoughts scrambled. She was supposed to be leaving. She was sure sheâd been about to leave. Theyâd been arguing. But what about?
âDaniel,â he said, his voice like the darkest chocolate, smooth, rich and forbidden. âEnough with the âMr Caruanaâ. Call me Daniel. And I shall call you Sophie.â
âMr Caruana,â she attempted again. âDaniel.â She licked her lips. The name felt way too informal, tasted almost intimate, or was that just the way his eyes seemed to spark and flare as he watched her mouth his name? As he watched her lips taste the sound as hungrily as sheâd watched his lips utter her name?
He was closer, his hand at her neck, drawing her towards him, towards his mouth. âWhat would your answer be?â
There was a point to all this, she recognised that much, if only she could tell what it was. But in air spiced with his musky, masculine scent she couldnât make sense of what he was asking, only on some fundamental level that it shouldnât be happening. She held onto the thread of logic, clung to it, even when his lips brushed over hers and then returned for another pass just as feather-light as the first. Just as earth shattering.
She trembled under the silken assault, her knees almost buckling beneath her as he drew her closer until her folded arms met his chest, the folded arms protecting the folder she clung to like a shield, reminding her why she was here.
And it wasnât to allow herself to be seduced by the man who opposed his sisterâs marriage! She freed one hand and pushed against the hard wall of his