It was almost three A.M. when Nigel brought me home. He stood by the elevator, watching as I searched for my key in my purse. I smiled at him over my shoulder, and he muttered something under his breath, strode purposefully to me, and kissed me a final time. My lips were throbbing when he eventually raised his head.
“Nigel,” I murmured, cradling his cheek.
“You know, I’ve always hated my name. But I love the way it sounds when you say it.”
I smiled into his eyes. “Nigel.”
He shivered, and I wondered if it would get me kissed again. It did, but it was just a brush of his lips over mine. “You’re wearing Tabu, aren’t you?”
“Should I be alarmed that you’re familiar enough with it that you recognize it?”
“No.” He brought my hand to his mouth and kissed my fingertips. “You wear it well. Bu
