Of course she had her hair up – the little minx wasn’t going to hide the smooth skin of her back behind a waterfall of hair. The back of her dress was low enough to make Aidan question if she was wearing a bra, but it wasn’t low enough to totally discount the possibility. His heart sped up as he wondered if she was wearing any underwear at all, his eyes hungrily searching for hints as he watched her body ripple underneath the fabric. It was as if she knew exactly how to tweak with the finer machinations of his mind, almost as if she deliberately wore this dress tonight, knowing that he would be seeing her. All he could right now was undress her with his mind and picture, with vivid detail, how it would be like to unclasp the button at the back of the dress and slowly pull down the zipper than ran along her spine to expose more of that soft, creamy flesh. Whoever was on the line clearly had her attention and did most of the talking while Gwyneth listened, absent-mindedly biting on her. "I'm not sure my arteries are up to such a thing, Henry. I'll see you soon."Sinclair summoned Henderson and gave him details of Lord Malmesbury's flights."Can you arrange a car to pick him up please?" Henry asked."Of course, Sir. I take it his visit is no coincidence?" Henderson asked."I'm guessing not. Coming in person does suggest that what he's found is likely to be rather juicy though, eh? Yes, young Mr MacSween is becoming more interesting by the day, don't you think?" As you say, Sir." What's the latest from Considine," Henry asked."I only managed to raise him about an hour ago, Sir. He's another who would like to see you in person rather than pass on details by phone. I've asked him to be here at 20:00. I hope that's okay?" asked Henderson (who was clearly so much more than a butler)."That's fine, Henderson. Show him right in when he gets here. Now, about the boy. How are the Davidson's taking the news that he's finally going back to his mother?" I can't pretend that they're.
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