"The surgery," the man finally said, coming to a stop at the last door at the very end of the corridor. I balked for a moment before I remembered that "surgery" was an outdated term for a doctor's office.
The butler opened the door and took one step inside, stepping clear of the doorway.
"Ms. Shaw to see you, Mr. Thorne," he said to someone unseen inside, giving a crisp half-bow.
I stepped through the doorway. The butler left, closing the door behind him.
Far across the checkered marble floor, Mr. Thorne lounged in a high-backed armchair with one ankle hooked over his knee, balancing a thin laptop on his leg. He was magnificent and immaculate, as always, dressed in a dark gray suit that molded perfectly to his wide shoulders and tapered down to his hips, his refined features inhumanly perfect under his dark wave of hair. Only dimly did I take in the rest of the room-the clusters of potted plants in the corners, the sparse pieces of elegant furniture, the chaise longue that had a sudden, ominous significance.
He shut the laptop and set it on a side table, surveying me as I entered. My breath caught, my heart already beginning to speed up. His look had a half-hidden hunger that defied his impersonal smile.
"Very good, Ms. Shaw. I see that you made it," he said, standing and crossing over to where I stood, frozen. He seemed different now, in his own home. Older, though older than what I couldn't say. Stronger. Darker.
"I said I would come."
He was very close now, and he seemed to be expecting something. Yes. A meeting. That's what this was, I thought. I should shake his hand.
I thrust a hand at him. He took it in his cool grasp, holding it for a lingering moment before completing the shake of greeting and dropping it again.
It was enough to send a rich, shivering reaction through my body and down into my center. Unaccountably, I thought of the kiss Geoff had given me and the terrible dream I'd had a week ago, and I wondered what it would be like to be kissed by this man.
Would I even survive it?
"Is there something that I need to sign?" I asked. "Paperwork to fill out?"
"Not at all," he said. "I am so glad you came."
I wouldn't-couldn't-have missed it for anything.
He took my elbow, and I found myself subtly leaning into him without meaning to.
"There is a dressing room through here," he said, guiding me to an inconspicuous side door. "You may leave your things on the bench. Then we will be ready to proceed."