Breaking The Playboy's Rules - Melanie Milburne Page 0,2

what they did. But she wasn’t his client. Although, she wasn’t exactly a friend asking a favour either, was she? They had disliked each other on sight...or at least she had made up her mind she would dislike him.

She swallowed and continued. ‘I wasn’t in the best mood that night and I fear I might have taken it out on you.’

‘You fear?’ The edge of sarcasm in his voice was unmistakable.

Her chin came up and her gaze collided with his. ‘Well, you were hardly Mr Dream Date yourself.’

Something shifted at the back of his gaze, as if he was mentally recalling that night and didn’t like what he saw. A dull flush slashed high across his cheekbones and his lips twisted in a self-deprecating smile. ‘Point taken. My charm button was on pause that night.’

As apologies went, it wasn’t the most gracious, but then, she had been the one who had acted with the most appalling manners that night. He had been a little broody and distant, but she had been downright rude. She’d been annoyed at the matchmaking attempt of her friends, who had been at her for over a year to get out more. Beth and Dan were well-meaning, but they didn’t know the real reason she found the prospect of dating again so difficult.

Julian had been sick for six years before he’d finally succumbed to his illness, diagnosed just before he’d turned eighteen. The treatment had been gruelling, the first operation changing his personality from loving and kind to grumpy and short-tempered. But Millie had hung in there, hoping month after month, year after year, that things would get better. They hadn’t. The thought of breaking up with him had not only crossed her mind, it had taken up residence and patiently waited for a good opportunity for her to raise it with him. It had never come. Julian had always been too sick, too depressed or in one of those rare but wonderful phases when the cancer seemed to be in remission.

How could she have destroyed him by saying she wanted out?

Millie was pulled out of her reverie when the waiter appeared with their drinks and it was a moment or two before she and Hunter were alone again. Millie picked up her glass for something to do with her hands. She took a sip and covertly studied him. There should be a law against men looking so hot without even trying. He exuded male potency and she wondered what it would be like to be in bed with him, those gym-toned legs entwined with hers. Her mind ran wild with X-rated images of his naked body in full arousal.

Sex with her late fiancé had been difficult due to the ravages of his illness and his limited stamina. She had cared for Julian rather than loved him and had allowed him to find quick pleasure in her body without insisting on her own. It had made her annoyed with herself rather than him, knowing he couldn’t help being so ill. Since his death, she’d had fleeting thoughts about sex, but had never gone any further than occasional self-pleasure. Somehow, over the years with Julian and since his death, she had begun to associate all things sexual with disappointment, dissatisfaction and faint tinges of despair.

But now, sitting opposite Hunter, all she could think about was how it would feel to have his body thrusting within hers. She was pretty sure he would never leave a partner dissatisfied or disappointed. His sexual competence was an aura that surrounded him. Every time he locked gazes with her, she felt a jolt of electricity shoot to her core. She wriggled in her seat, her lower body restless, agitated, hungry, her cheeks feeling as hot as fire.

A slight frown settled between his ink-black eyebrows and, though he picked up his drink, he didn’t take even a token sip. ‘One wonders, if you had such a miserable time on our blind date, why on earth would you want to repeat it?’ Hunter said, holding her gaze with his steely one.

Millie pressed her lips together. ‘I don’t. I wanted us to meet to discuss something...else.’

One of his eyebrows rose in a perfect arc. ‘Go on.’ His eyes never left hers—steady, strong, searching, sharply intelligent.

She ran the tip of her tongue over her parchment-dry lips, trying to ignore the way his gaze drifted downwards, as if he found the shape of her mouth fascinating. She drew in a breath and it shuddered through her