“You don’t seem to be concentrating very hard on the race,” she said instead. “Didn’t I just see Larry Hammond’s balloon go past overhead?” “I didn’t notice,” he murmured, looking right straight into her eyes. She swallowed nervously. Well, of course, he didn’t. He very definitely had other things on his mind. For example, in addition to that disconcerting, unrelenting gaze that was turning her blood into molten honey, he was moving determinedly and provocatively toward her. Her breath caught in her throat and she began to understand what animals felt like when they were being stalked by deadly hunters. The urge to run swept over her again, followed by the panicky realization that there was no place to go. She held out a resisting hand, but he slipped past it and drew her tightly against him, sighing at the contact. Their thighs were pressed together, his fingers a barely proper hairbreadth below her breast. Her pulse took off like a well-trained thoroughbred heading into the homestretch.
