The limousine --gosh, a limousine! -- was already waiting, door open. Aurora slipped in with the ease of a true Bond girl and looked at her Dream Mate.
The rich brown skin was mesmerizing against the creamy leather of the seats. His shoulders looked broader than in the photos, his eyes naughtier, the inside of his masculine lips vulnerably pink and totally irresistible.
"Hello there, stranger."
Aurora couldn't get a word out. Stop talking and kiss me already, her mind suddenly capable of operating on only one track.
He didn't kiss her. But when he held out a champagne glass to her, his triceps moved like a living sculpture under the thin material of his evening shirt and Aurora felt the primordial reaction radiate from her nipples all the way down.
Kiss me, damn it!
He tapped on the glass separating them from the driver and the limo eased into a gentle roll. "Before this goes any further, I have a confession to make," he said.
Him, too. Aurora raised a single eyebrow and twisted her face in simulated shock. She found her voice. "Oh no. Don't tell me. Your other car is not a Ferrari?"
He flashed his teeth, so white they almost looked blue in their dark setting. "As it happens, one of my other cars isa Ferrari. But, here goes: I don't do skydiving. That was just to impress you."