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her meal, reluctant to give too much away, knowing she could not divulge any details of the real reason for her trip or speak of her determination to succeed in winning the Ackerman funding. It was easier to maintain the pretence, to not tell Cameron what she really did or who she really was.
    He pushed his empty plate aside and leaned his forearms on the table. 'Then home to Scotland?'
    'Yes, and a backlog of work to catch up on.' Her gaze locked with his, and she wondered how much she dared pry. 'You're obviously a Scot, given the name, but you don't have an obvious accent.'
    'My father was Scottish. He was in the diplomatic service so we moved around a lot for his job.'
    She heard a trace of aloneness and dissatisfaction underlying his tone. 'That must have been unsettling.'
    'It was, but I got lucky. My parents sent me back to Scotland to school at the age of eight, and I spent the ten happiest years of my life living with my aunt outside Strathlochan. After that I lived and worked in London for many years until recently. I—' He broke off, a look of surprise on his face, as if he didn't usually talk like this to anyone. 'Aunt Kaye died three months ago.'
    She 'ached for him and the pain of loss he couldn't hide. 'I'm sorry. She was very special to you.'
    Cameron puffed out his cheeks and let out a shaky breath. 'Yes, she was. Thank you. Anyway, I have some loose ends to tie up down here.' He smiled, clearly making an effort to lighten the atmosphere.
    They both had mango sorbet for dessert but refused coffee, discussing books and music and politics. Ginger was shocked how quickly the time passed and how comfortable she felt with him, despite the ever-present tingle of sexual chemistry that zinged between them.
    'Well...' Realising she couldn't spin the time out any longer, she slid back her chair and rose to her feet. 'Thank you for the company. I think I'll turn in. I have a busy day tomorrow.'
    'Yeah, me, too.'
    It wasn't what she had intended, but she found herself walking beside him as they left the restaurant. She'd never been so aware of anyone in her life. An inexplicable tension continued to build inside her, the electricity that had charged between them from the first moment now seeming more intense than ever.
    'Stairs?' She nearly jumped out of her skin when Cameron lightly touched her arm.
    Glancing across the foyer, she saw that only one of the two lifts was in operation, the one they had been stuck in earlier, now carefully cordoned off. 'Definitely. All four flights of them.'
    When they reached their floor, he held the door open for her, and she headed down the corridor, painfully aware he was following.
    'You don't have to see me to the door,' she murmured.
    'I thought we'd already decided I wasn't a gentleman.' His amused smile held a touch of wickedness. 'My room is this way, too. Four twenty-seven.'
    Ginger flushed, feeling foolish. 'Of course. Sorry. Four twenty-eight.'
    Her breath felt ridiculously shallow, which had nothing to do with having used the stairs. She couldn't explain how she was feeling. They hesitated outside their doors, entry cards in hand. She knew she should just say good night and turn away, but there was something so mesmerising about him, and something weird was going on between them. Everything about him—his mouth, his eyes, his humour, his air of danger—captivated her.
    Later, she could never have said who moved first. One second there was a safe gap of three feet between them, the next she was in his arms, her own wrapped around his neck, exchanging the most mind-blowing, nerve-tingling, exhilarating kiss of her entire life.

CHAPTER THREE
    Ginger was on fire.
    The mouth she had fantasised over since the moment Cameron had boarded the train tasted infinitely better than she could ever have imagined. Hot, male, delicious. His kiss was drugging, consuming, wildly erotic. Ginger met and matched his urgent passion, her tongue as avid in its exploration and as inquisitive as his