Page 37 of The Invitation

“Fine,” I relent. “My train gets in at eight fifteen.”

“I’ll be there.”

Halfway down the steps, my phone rings again, and I stop when I see an out-of-town number. “Hello?”

“Morning.”

My body instantly tenses, a man catching my shoulder as he dashes past me down the steps.Hang up. Hang up.And my current state, hot and bothered, heart racing, is exactly why I need to avoid this guy. I’ve suddenly forgotten where I’m going, who I am. With just one word. The last time he talked to me, he nearly brought me to orgasm.

“This isn’t your mobile number.”

“No, it’s not. You’re not answering calls from my mobile, so I thought I’d try calling you from a different line.”

He’s crafty. “Now’s really not a good time.” I turn and walk back up the steps, getting out of the way of the commuters.

“But this coming Saturday works, so you’ll come to dinner with me.”

My God, I’ve never come across such an indomitable man. So much for my conclusion that he’s backed off. “Aren’t you hearing what I’m saying to you?”

“I’m hearing, Amelia. You want me.”

At those very words, a powerful throb hits me between my thighs. I look around me, at the chaos on the London street. Silence. Just his words bouncing around in my mind.

“Saturday,” he repeats.

“No.”

“Fucking hell, Amelia,” he breathes, completely exasperated. “It’s just dinner.”

“Is it?” I ask on a laugh. “Because your approach to this point would suggest otherwise.”

Silence. He has no comeback for that.

“Look, I’ve got to go.”

“No, Amelia, wait.”

A woman catches my shoulder as she rounds the corner into the Tube station, knocking me into the wall. “Oh, Jesus, I’m sorry,” she splutters, taking my arm to steady me. “I didn’t see you.”

I blink, looking at my mobile in my hand.

“Amelia?” he says. “Amelia, talk to me.”

I hang up and catch my breath.

“Are you okay?” the woman asks, prompting me to force a smile and reassure her I’m fine. And grateful. I was a heartbeat away from caving. “So sorry,” she says again, before getting on her way.

I take a moment to realign and remind myself of where I’m going. Not just today, but in my career. My life. I hurry down the stairs to the Tube, my throat tight, unexpected and unwanted anger getting the better of me.

Not today.

Today, I need to be focused.

Chapter 11

“It’s hardly accessible, is it?” Clark says as he weaves the country roads to Arlington Hall. “Whose idea was it to move the conference here?”

“The Hilton double-booked, apparently. This was a last resort.” I lift my shades and look at the clear blue sky, inhaling the countryside air through the slightly open window of Clark’s Range Rover Sport. I got absolutely zero work done on the train as intended, only adding to my restlessness. “It just smells so clean, doesn’t it?”

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