Heart racing, she towed him to where the wine sat. She’d need to loosen up a bit to fool him into thinking she hailed from this time. Though she should run away without delay, the night carried the possibility of bringing her fantasies to fruition. In this very room, the man she’d pined for, the one she’d yearned to have, stared at her with hunger. Thomas wanted to make love—with her, of all people.
Who would’ve guessed it?
“So, Eleanor, tell me, where are you from?” He grabbed the wine, a brow raised as he grabbed the corkscrew to open the bottle. He studied the object, flipping it in his hands, and then put the sharp, twisty blade in the cork.
She could almost hear his thought process as he compared the modern version to the ones they were familiar with. He tossed a smile over his shoulder and poured two glasses. Giving one to her, he motioned for her to sit down on the couch. Once she did so, he sat so close beside her that their legs touched. The heat from his body pressing against hers caused to tremble and almost spill the wine over the rim, even though he’d filled it only three-quarters full.
“I’m from London. My family has an estate out near Devon, but we seldom use it.” Eleanor sipped her beverage, proud of her response. She sounded so…sophisticated. One would never guess she hovered a mere second away from exploding with anxiety. “You?”
“I live far away. I’m in town for a night, and then I return home.”
Now, that was an understatement, if she’d ever heard one. Two hundred years away, to be exact.
She held back a trill of laughter at his perfect reply. Clients were urged not to reveal the truth of their origins. Most people remained unaware of the joys of time-traveling—and the company preferred to keep it that way.
She licked her parched lips. “Oh, is that so? How fortunate for me to have the pleasure of meeting you before you leave.”
He studied her mouth, and her insides clenched at the dark hunger she saw within. How