The Secret Ingredient Read Online Free PDF

sexual attraction was not going to change her mind about him. It was biology and a much underused libido playing tricks on her.
    Her gaze scanned his face.
    At this distance she could see that his eyes were not just blue, but a blend of different shades of blue from steel-grey to the bright evening sky. Mesmerising. Totally, totally mesmerising. And quite shameless.
    Because before she had time to protest, Rob cupped the nape of her neck with one hand and bent his head lower so that his nose was pressed against her forehead, his breath hot and slow and heavy on her face.
    Without asking for permission she felt his other hand fan out on her lower back, taking her weight, arching her body down. Into his control.
    His lips trembled and parted. He was going to kiss her.
    Instinctively she slid her tongue across her parched lips but instantly saw his smile switch back on.
    Damn. She had fallen straight into his little trap.
    ‘What are you doing?’ she breathed and raised both hands to push his away. ‘You are being outrageous. Don’t you ever go off duty? Please don’t try and flirt with me, Mr Beresford.’
    ‘There we go. Another one of those damn fantasies of mine.’
    Rob pushed both hands down hard, slid off the bench and stretched to his full height so that when he spoke he had to look down at her with a huge grin on his face. ‘After all, I would hate for you to think that I was acting out of character for some reason. That might be too much for your readers to understand. Because otherwise, who knows? It might actually cross your mind that I am simply here to enjoy the art on my night off.’
    His gaze locked on to her eyes and held them tight in its grasp. Only now those blue eyes were more gunmetal than warm sea. Laser cold. Sharp. A cold shiver that had nothing to do with the icy air conditioning raised goosebumps along Lottie’s arms and neck.
    So this was what it was like to be at the receiving end of one of Rob Beresford’s bad moods.
    Not good. So not good.
    The cold shiver turned to fiery indignation and Lottie pressed her lips together. What gave him the right to talk to a guest at an art gallery like this?
    One more minute and she was going to jump up and give him just as much right back, starting with the last time they met. Maybe he could dish it out but could he take it when the tables were turned and he was on the receiving end? She doubted it.
    Lottie curled her fingers into a tight fist and mentally came up with a couple of suitable put-downs from her banking days, but she never got the chance to use them. Because just like that he broke eye contact and rolled back his shoulders for a second before looking back over one shoulder at her.
    ‘I’ve just had an outrageous idea. Plus it’s my turn for a question. Care to join me on a tour of the exhibition? It’s about time you gave me your expert opinion on the other paintings.’
    Rob ran one hand back through his hair and tore his gaze away from the blonde and looked around the room. A trickle of guests was starting to wander into the exhibition space now and he inwardly cursed himself for being stupid enough to lose his temper and act out his frustration with this girl he had just met.
    He was so tired of playing the fool for the cameras. Tired of allowing his emotions and excitement to get the better of him.
    Just once it would be nice to be taken seriously.
    He was Adele Forrester’s only child. Did the press, like this cute blonde, really think that he had no appreciation of the art world after spending most of his precious free time in the company of a woman who was even more obsessed and passionate than he was?
    ‘You want to hear my opinion of the other paintings, Mr Beresford? Is that right?’
    He flicked his head towards the reception area. ‘Absolutely. I think I just saw some waiting staff coming in. Why don’t we find out what culinary delights the gallery have lined up for us this evening before the rest of your colleagues