Wedding Bell Wishes: It Started at a Wedding... / The Wedding Planner and the CEO / Her Perfect Proposal. Lynne Marshall
and one of his hands was resting on the curve of her bottom.
‘You’re telling me that was chocolate?’ she deadpanned.
‘Maybe. Maybe not.’ He moved his hand, liking the softness of her curves. ‘Claire. You’re...’
‘What?’
‘Unexpectedly luscious,’ he said. ‘None of this was supposed to happen.’
‘Says the man who made me close my eyes and lean forward to take a bite of chocolate. Giving him a view straight down the front of my dress, if I’m not mistaken.’
‘It was a very nice view,’ he said, and shifted slightly so she was left in no doubt of his arousal.
‘This is what chocolate does to you?’ she asked.
‘No. This is what you do to me.’
She leaned forward and caught his lower lip between hers, teasing him. ‘Indeed, Mr Farrell.’
‘Yeah.’ He was aware that his voice sounded husky. She’d know from that exactly how much she affected him.
‘So did you come prepared?’ she asked.
He couldn’t speak for a moment. And then he looked into her eyes. ‘Are you suggesting...?’
‘Capri, redux?’ She held his gaze and nodded.
He blew out a breath. ‘I didn’t come prepared.’
‘Tsk. Not what I expected from Mr Plan-Everything-Twenty-Years-in-Advance,’ she teased.
‘How do you manage to do that?’ he asked plaintively.
‘Do what?’
‘Make me feel incredibly frustrated and make me want to laugh, all at the same time?’
‘Go with the flow, sweetie,’ she drawled.
He kissed her again. ‘OK. Tonight wasn’t about expectations. It wasn’t about sending you flowers this morning so you’d sleep with me tonight. It was about getting to know you better.’
‘Platonic, you mean?’
‘I’d like to be friends.’
‘Uh-huh.’ She sounded unaffected, but he’d seen that little vulnerable flicker in her expression and he didn’t let her move. He pulled her closer.
‘I didn’t say just friends. I want to be your lover as well.’
Her pupils went gratifyingly large.
‘But I didn’t come prepared because I’m not taking you for granted.’
To his surprise, he saw a sheen of tears in her eyes. ‘Claire? What’s wrong?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m being wet.’
‘Tell me anyway.’
‘That’s not how it usually is, for me,’ she admitted.
Not being taken for granted? He brushed his mouth very gently against hers. ‘That’s because you’ve been dating the wrong men, thinking they’re Mr Right.’
‘I always thought you’d be Mr Wrong,’ she admitted.
‘And I always thought you’d be Ms Wrong,’ he said. ‘But maybe we should give each other a little more of a chance.’
‘Maybe,’ she said softly. ‘But next time—I think I’m going to be prepared.’
‘You and me, both.’ He nuzzled the curve of her neck. ‘Careful, Claire. You might turn into a bit of an über-planner if you keep this up.’
As he’d hoped, she laughed. ‘And you might start going with the flow without having to be reminded.’
He laughed back. ‘I think we need to move. While we still both have some self-control.’
‘Good plan.’ But when she climbed off him, he didn’t let her move away and sit in a different chair. He kept hold of her hand and drew her down beside him.
‘This works for me,’ he said. ‘Just simply holding hands with you.’
For a moment, she went all dreamy-eyed. ‘Like teenagers.’
‘What?’
She shook her head. ‘Ah, no. I’m not confessing that right now.’
Confessing what? He was intrigued. ‘I could,’ he suggested sweetly, ‘make you confess. Remember, I’m armed with seriously good chocolate.’
She drew his hand up to her mouth and kissed each knuckle in turn. ‘But I also happen to know you’re a gentleman. So you won’t push me right now.’
So even when she hadn’t liked him, she’d recognised that he had integrity and standards and knew that she was safe with him? That warmed him from the inside out. ‘I won’t push you right now,’ he agreed. He handed her the box. ‘Help yourself.’
‘Salted caramel in dark chocolate. Fabulous. Are they all like that?’
‘No. There’s a Seville orange version and an espresso.’
‘Nice choices. And you said earlier they were samples.’ She looked thoughtful. ‘So are you experimenting with new lines?’
‘Possibly.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Sean, I’m hardly going to rush straight off to one of your competitors and sell them the information.’
‘Of course you’re not.’ He frowned. ‘Do you think I’m that suspicious?’
‘You sounded it,’ she pointed out.
‘It’s an experiment, moving into a slightly different form of toffee,’ he said, ‘but I need to put them through some focus groups first and see what my market thinks.’
‘Ah, research. Looking at growing your market share.’ She smiled. ‘So either you sell the same product to more people, or you sell more products to the same people.’
At his raised eyebrow, she sighed. ‘I’m not a total dimwit, you know. I’ve had my own business for three years.’
‘I know, and it’s not just that. Ashleigh told me you turned down an unconditional offer from Cambridge for medicine, and I know you wouldn’t get that sort of offer if you weren’t really bright.’ He looked at her. ‘I always wondered why you became a wedding dress designer instead of a doctor.’
She looked sad. ‘It’s a long story, and I don’t really want to tell it tonight.’
Because she didn’t trust him not to judge her? ‘Fair enough,’ he said coolly.
‘I wasn’t pushing you away, Sean,’ she said. ‘I just don’t want to talk about it right now.’
‘So what do you want, Claire?’ He couldn’t resist the question.
‘Right now? I want you to kiss me again. But we’ve both agreed that’s, um, possibly not a good idea.’
‘Because I’m not prepared, and neither are you. So we’ll take a rain check,’ he said.
‘How long?’ She slapped a hand to her forehead. ‘No. I didn’t ask that and you didn’t hear me.’
‘Right. And I wasn’t thinking it, either,’ he retorted. ‘When?’
‘Wednesday?’
Giving them two days to come to their common sense. ‘Wednesday,’ he agreed. ‘I would offer to cook for you, except you’d get a sandwich at best.’
She laughed. ‘I can live with sandwiches.’
‘No, I mean a proper date.’
‘Planned