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tightening around my waist. “You’re perfect. Come here.”
    “What?” I blinked, suddenly nervous again. “Why?”
    “Because, Miss Phillips, I want all those little x’s you promised me at the end of your emails.”
    I tried to curb the immediate burn of excitement that flashed through my whole body. I eased myself closer, and he lifted me so I was eye level with him, hard against the length of his torso, his forearms braced just under my bottom. I caught the smile in his beautiful eyes as he leaned closer and brushed his mouth over mine, watching me the entire time. It was just a touch, but it set me on fire, and my hands tightened on his shoulders.
    “Close your eyes, Court,” he commanded softly. I did as he asked, then gasped as his mouth collided with mine. His tongue traced the seam of my lips, and I again did as he silently asked and parted my lips. I moaned a little more loudly as his tongue stroked over mine, one hand at my back pressing me to him, soft stubble rubbing over my skin. I felt the tips of his fingers delve between the buttons at the back of my dress as he angled his head to take more of me, kissing me even deeper. Oh God, I thought, trailing my fingers through his soft curls, why weren’t we near a bedroom? What would we get done for if we just went to the toilets and just…
    “Get a room!” someone yelled.
    Ryan lifted his head and gave me one last kiss, then set me down on the ground. I just stared at him. Poor Fran. I would have chased him too. My skin felt as if there were electrodes running up and down it. What was I doing before he touched me? “Okay, umm, do you want to get going?”
    “How about we stay and put on a show? Like True Blood , just a bit more explicit.”
    I stared at him in horror, only to realise that he was joking. I couldn’t say a word. “You know,” he said as he hooked an arm around my shoulders, pushing his suitcase trolley with one broad hand, “you were more talkative with several thousand miles between us.”
    The warm weight of his arm didn’t help with the breakdown of my vocal cords. “Well, that’s different. I mean, I had time to think and you hadn’t just…”
    Ryan stroked his fingers through my loose hair. “Just what, babe?”
    Kissed me like you were going to take my virginity on the floor of Terminal Five. “Arrived,” I finished lamely.
    Ryan stopped the trolley and gathered me into another hug. “You’re still you.” He kissed me again, then released me. “Okay, where’d you park your car? Do you mind playing chauffeur for a bit?”
    “Yes sir.” I saluted. We walked toward the car together as I asked him how the flight was and how weird it felt being in England.
    “Not bad, weather’s pretty much the same.”
    We reached my little golf, and he bundled his cases into the back. He returned the trolley, then folded his big body into the car. He pulled my seatbelt across me, his knuckles brushing over the swell of my breast, before he did his own. He leaned his head back against the seat.
    “Jet lag,” he explained before I could even start to complain. I love him , I thought dreamily, then nearly backed into another car because of the shock of such a thought.
    “Phillips, it does help to look in the rear-view mirror.”
    “Kiss my arse,” I snapped. I hated backseat drivers.
    “Whenever you like.” He grinned, closing his eyes. I sent him a matronly look of disapproval, which he completely missed. I caught him up on recent events, political, environmental, and most importantly, EastEnders . I realised I had been talking for ages. “I watch too much TV,” I added apologetically.
    “You’ve got to find something to keep you occupied,” he suggested with a quirk of his dark eyebrows.
    “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner!”
    He chuckled, giving me such a bright smile, all sensation in my body went into overdrive. How on earth was I in a car with this guy? How did I even know him? I couldn’t believe or