‘Your floors are heated,’ she said, as he walked back. She wiggled her toes. ‘Nice.’

He smiled. ‘It’s all about comfort, babe.’ He took a small breath because she looked so sweet wiggling her toes that he wanted to lick her all over like candy. But he’d promised himself he wasn’t going to touch Miss Hart tonight. She needed some down time and he had plans for tomorrow. He took her hand. ‘Come on,’ he said gruffly, not used to self-denial. ‘Let’s eat.’

‘Now you’re mad at me.’

‘Hell no.’ A practised smile, a playful wink. ‘I just get grumpy when I’m hungry.’

After escorting her to a chair, he sat to her right at the head of the table. ‘Now, any requests other than what Deshi made for us?’

His simple meal included caviar on petals of potato salad, onion soup, coconut prawns, oven-roasted chicken with baby carrots, grilled Japanese Kagoshima beef with asparagus, cream puffs with strawberries and a poached cherry tiramisu.

‘Everything looks wonderful, but – oh never mind …’

‘Ask. They should be able to get you anything you want.’

‘I haven’t had milk for a couple days.’ She smiled. ‘Midwest, what can I say?’

‘Any special kind of milk?’ Don’t even think it, he warned himself, resisting the reflex jolt to his dick.

‘Really, I have a choice?’

He smiled. ‘Yes, really.’

‘Chocolate milk, then.’

He came to his feet. ‘I’ll be right back.’ He gestured at the food. ‘Please, help yourself.’

He could have raised his hand and someone would have appeared from behind the carved teakwood screen, but he didn’t want to spook Miss Hart, so he walked down the hall and opened the door into the butler’s pantry. His butler, Mr Smith, of indeterminate age but certifiable efficiency, and two of his many houseboys stood to attention. ‘I appreciate the discretion, Smith. We haven’t heard a sound from anyone. Miss Hart prefers her privacy, as I mentioned earlier. I’m here because she’d like some chocolate milk. Can we do that?’ He saw Smith swallow hard. ‘Problem?’

‘I’m sure we’ll manage something, sir.’

‘Do what you can. Perhaps we should bring in a supply from somewhere tomorrow.’ Cow’s milk wasn’t a staple in Asia. ‘Apologize to Deshi. It’s not something he could have anticipated. Buzz me when you have some. I’ll come get it.’ He smiled. ‘Thank you all.’ He turned back just short of the door. ‘Don’t forget the package from Leo. He said he’d have it delivered by midnight. I need it at breakfast.’

As soon as Dominic left, the butler picked up the phone and put the kitchen staff in an uproar.

Dominic walked back into the dining room. ‘The kitchen is going to see what they can do. But we’ll have some chocolate milk brought up tomorrow if they don’t have any on site. Ah … you’re trying the prawns. My favourite, although these are all’ – he waved his hand at the large array of food – ‘personal favourites. I didn’t want to wake you. Tomorrow, you order. In fact, order what you want for breakfast once we’re finished.’

They ate, they talked, they drank champagne, they luxuriated in a warm, quiet contentment nurtured by soft candlelight, perfumed air, the sweet aftermath of an afternoon of unalloyed pleasure and their own special brand of magic.

It was like a lush, romantic movie come to life, Kate thought.

Even Dominic recognized something was in the air. But he attributed the atmosphere to more pragmatic particulars: a sleepless night of mind-blowing sex, a long busy day of the same, a bottle or two of champagne, Leo’s excess of flowers – and of course the hot little puss beside him whom he’d jump if he could. But none of that was about romance, it was about fucking.

Kate’s chocolate milk arrived forty minutes later because it had taken that long for one of the staff to drive into the city and back. After she emptied the glass, it took all of Dominic’s self-control not to lean over and lick the small chocolate slick from her upper lip – the bewitching smear more erotic than the most blatant striptease. Correction: what was even more erotic was when she slid her tongue slowly over her upper lip and lapped up the chocolate residue.

At which point, he silently groaned, wrestled his libido to the ground and told himself that abstinence built character.

She needed a rest. He wasn’t a brute.

Accordingly, after dinner, he bathed Kate with the discipline of a eunuch, made excuses to her about being tired, carried her to bed, tucked her in, and held up the remote control. ‘TV while I take a quick shower?’

She was half asleep. ‘Some news. I’m losing track of the world.’ She smiled. ‘Not that I’m complaining. You’re super-charming. I’m sorry you’re tired.’

‘I’ll be fine by morning.’ He found Sky News, set the remote near her hand. ‘Five minutes, I’ll be back.’

It was the fastest shower he’d ever taken, but then he’d never had Miss Hart waiting in his bed. Minutes later, he walked back in, wiping his wet hair with a towel and came to a sudden stop. He really had been too hard on her. She was fast asleep.

Turning off the TV, he climbed into bed, gathered her into his arms and gave himself points for being virtuous.

Kate sighed, snuggled closer to Dominic in insistent small nudges and as his arms tightened around her, her breathing slowed again, deepened into sleep.