Trevor said nothing as he handed her a plate.

“Last Easter she broke her leg. She’d just been standing there and suddenly, she collapsed.” Allie gazed down at the platter but didn’t see the food. She saw her mom, who looked so much like Monica, wearing a bright red chenille bathrobe, asking if anyone wanted another pot of coffee, then she fell to the ground.

“One minute she was fine, the next she wasn’t.” Allie took a sip of her wine. With a trembling hand, she set her glass down and it clinked against her plate. “She died in November, right before Thanksgiving.”

She saw nothing but compassion in his eyes. Sardonic, self-absorbed Trevor she could handle. But a Trevor with real feelings and a bit of empathy? No way.

She blinked back the tears that were threatening to spill over and once again cleared her throat. Talking with Trevor, telling him about her mother’s illness, made her chest feel a little lighter somehow. She rarely spoke about it with her family. Her dad would start crying and leave the room, Brynn would do the same, and Monica barely mentioned Mom anymore.

She found Trevor staring at her, those gray eyes sharp and compassionate at the same time. “What about you?” she asked. “How old were you when your parents died?”

His eyes became shuttered and the compassion was gone. In its place was his normal, slightly taunting gaze. He stabbed a shrimp with his fork and held it up to her. “Mmm, try the lobster sauce. It’s delicious.”

Allie let him shovel food into her mouth. “Very good. Is it painful to talk about? Your parents, I mean?”

His face became devoid of expression, and he fed her a piece of braised Kobe spare rib. “Not at all, I assure you.”

He was hiding something, she could feel it. But what else was new? “Tell me something about yourself. All I know is that you’re a businessman who collects things like engraved metal biscuit tins. Which in case you didn’t know, is odd.”

His gaze lowered to her lips. “I enjoy long walks on the beach and living each day to the fullest. My turnoffs are rude people, and I adore Virgos.”

Allie couldn’t help it—she burst out laughing. He’d looked so serious and earnest when he’d rattled off that stupid list. “You’re out of luck then, because you don’t live near a beach, you’re the rudest person I know, and I’m not a Virgo.”

“But I don’t love you, darling, so we can cross that off our list.” He forked a piece of duck and held it to her lips.

Well, that sobered her up. He didn’t love her and she didn’t love him. But to hear him say it made her heart stutter.

They finished lunch without any more personal revelations and when they hopped into the limo, Trevor instructed Simmons to take Allie to her home. But he made her solemnly swear to be back at the mansion by six.

“I promise. And thank you, Trevor.”

“Yes well, you were becoming tiresome.” Then he pulled out his phone and ignored her for the rest of the drive.

***

Trevor spent the afternoon catching up on work. And thinking about Allie. That sad lot she called a family was dragging her down. Needy, the whole mess of them.

As he walked through the upstairs hallway before dinner, he glanced into the glass case that held the engraved biscuit tins Allie had mentioned. Everything displayed in the house had been a part of his grandfather’s collection—the old man’s obsession, really.

Trevor often wondered what his grandfather would think of him, here in Vegas. Dragging half of England with him. Building a garden in the middle of a desert. It smacked of a sentimentality he’d never openly admit to. If Allie’s family was her weakness, this was probably his—hanging on to the past, to the grandfather who’d given him a home.

He stopped in front of Allie’s room and knocked on the door.

After a moment, she poked her head out and frowned at him. “What? I was back before six.” She clutched the lapels of her pink robe with one hand.

Her skin was still damp and she smelled divine. He watched as a single drop of water slipped from the hollow of her throat down her upper chest, to hide beneath the satiny folds of material. He wanted to follow its trail with his tongue. Under his gaze, Allie’s nipples beaded. He needed some quality time with those breasts too. He’d had a sampling the night before. Now he wanted more. When his eyes drifted back to her face, her cheeks were as pink as the robe. “I appreciate your punctuality, Miss Campbell. I thought we might have a drink on the terrace before dinner.”

“Oh.” She swallowed. “Okay.” She sounded a little breathless. Her voice was a little huskier. He wanted her to say his name with that voice.

Trevor perused her, from the top of her blond head to her bare toes, peeking out from beneath the hem of the robe. “Or I could come in and we could delay dinner by an hour. Or two.”

She clutched the robe tighter. “I’m not on the menu, English.” She slammed the door in his face.

In spite of his aching cock, he smiled. Yes, this was why Allie was here. She amused him.

He propped himself against the wall and waited. “Tick tock, Miss Campbell.”

“Don’t rush me, Mr. Blake.” The words drifted through the door.

Trevor studied his nails. “I’ll be sure to order a schoolgirl uniform tomorrow. I can’t wait to see you in plaid.” He knew it irritated her when he called her Miss Campbell, but he nearly gnashed his teeth when she reciprocated. “I’m coming in there to help if you don’t move it along.”

She opened the door then and stepped out into the hallway. She looked lovely in the ivory lace dress, the V-neck displaying a delightful view of her plump breasts. Her bright, straight hair looked soft and shiny. He found himself reaching out to touch a strand but thrust his hand into his trouser pocket at the last instant.

“What?” Brows furrowed, she blinked up at him. “Why are you scowling like that?”

Fuck it. He pulled his hand from his pocket and sank his fingers into the hair at the base of her neck. He massaged the back of her scalp, and with his other hand, he grabbed hold of her waist and jerked her toward him. She tottered on her heels and flattened her hands against his chest to steady herself.

His gaze skimmed over her face. Her eyes widened and her glossy lips parted.

“Trevor,” she whispered, “what’s wrong with you?”

Leaning down, he kissed her possessively, tasting the sweetness of her lips, sliding his rough tongue against hers. He let go of the tight hold on her hair and let his fingers sift through it, feeling its silky texture. He couldn’t get enough of her lips. Of her fresh scent. Of her hands running over the contours of his back beneath his jacket.

He was achingly hard. Again. Still.

Trevor moved his other hand from her bare back to her bottom and squeezed, felt the lace rough against his palm before gradually pulling his mouth away from hers. He missed the contact.

Allie’s full lips appeared poutier as she glanced up at him. He licked his own. “I think I’m wearing your lippy.”

Stepping back, he took a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his mouth. He looked at the light pink streak against on the white fabric before she took it from his hand. Her eyes met his as she reached up and rubbed at his upper lip.

“There, I think that’s all of it.” She still hadn’t lowered her eyes, and they gazed at each other for a long moment.

Trevor tucked the cloth in his pocket, then ran a finger down her cheek.

Allie shuddered slightly. “Thank you for letting me go back home today.”

He placed his hand on her back, brushed his fingertips over her bare skin. God, she was soft. “How did it go with Monica?”

They made their way to the stairs and Allie’s fingers grasped the banister. “Not well. After she calmed down, I tried to talk to her, but she still wouldn’t tell me Brad’s last name. However, she did promise to go to school this week. Of course, that was after I threatened to follow her to class or maybe stick a tracking device up her ass.”