When she didn’t immediately sit down, Tom McFarlane glanced up and she felt a jolt-like the fizz of electricity from a faulty switch-as something dangerous sparked the silver specks buried in the granite-grey of his eyes. The same jolt that had passed between them on their first meeting. Hot slivers of lightning that heated her to the bone, bringing a flush to her cheeks, a tingle to parts of her anatomy that no other glance had reached since…no, forget since. She’d never felt that kind of response to any man. Not even Jeremy.

What on earth was the matter with her?

She’d never done anything at first sight. Certainly not love. She’d known Jeremy from her cradle. Actually, that might not have been the best example…

Whatever.

She certainly didn’t intend to change the habits of a lifetime with lust. Mixing business with pleasure was always a mistake.

But it meant that she understand exactly what Candida had been thinking. Why she hadn’t settled for some softer billionaire. Some malleable sugar daddy who would buy her the country estate and anything else she wanted…

‘I’d advise you to sit down, Miss Smith,’ he said. ‘This is going to take some time.’

Usually, she and her clients were on first name terms from the word go but they had both clung firmly to formality at that first meeting and she didn’t think this was the moment to respond with, Sylvie, please…

And since her knees, in their weakened state, had buckled in instant obedience to his command, she was too busy making sure her backside connected securely with the chair to cope with something as complicated as speech at the same time.

He watched as she wriggled to locate the safety of the centre of the chair. Continued to watch her for what seemed like endless moments.

The heat intensified and, without thinking, she slipped the buttons on her jacket.