trustworthy, and, what with the unorthodox methods sheâd employed to inveigle her way inside his house, she couldnât entirely blame him.
âWell, quite.â Laura swallowed hard and tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. âLook, Matt,â she said, giving him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, âI really do work better alone. And I promise not to run off with the silver.â
Matt frowned and then shrugged. âFine. Iâll be in the library if you need anything.â
Â
Oh, for Godâs sake, Matt thought, scowling down at the report into Sassaniaâs fishing quotas that heâd been trying to work on and shoving it aside. How long did getting a few photos take? The house wasnât that big, but Laura had been up there for an hour at least. She couldnât have found that much of architectural interest, could she?
Something banged right above his head and Matt winced. Perhaps she had. Judging by the sounds of scraping furniture and the hammering on walls that had been coming from various parts of the house, Laura was taking the whole place apart.
While part of him reluctantly admired her thoroughness and determination, another, more persistent part of him had spent the past hour wondering whether herenthusiasm and passion for her work carried over into other areas of life. Like sex.
An image of her lying on his bed, naked, her hair spilling all over his pillows, her long tanned limbs tangled in his sheets, her eyes all slumberous and inviting, slammed into his head yet again and his body stiffened painfully.
Matt shoved his hands through his hair and ground his teeth in frustration. This was ridiculous. He was a sensible rational man of thirty-three, not a hormone-ridden adolescent. So why was he finding it so hard to concentrate? Why had he spent the past ten minutes reading the same page of that damned report with still no idea of what it was about?
It hadnât been that long since heâd had sex, had it? He cast his mind back and tried to remember the last time heâd had a woman in his bed. Was it six months ago? A year? Surely it couldnât be longer than that, could it?
Matt frowned. Even if it was, there was no need to panic. Heâd been busy. That was all. And it wasnât as if he needed sex. Heâd gone far longer without it and had survived perfectly well.
Footsteps echoed down the stairs. His blood rushed to his head and he pushed himself away from his desk and leapt to his feet. He needed to get out, before he did something really rash like bundle her back upstairs and demand she show him the architectural features of his bedroom.
Heâd go and chop what was left of those logs. The release of hard physical work after spending months in stifling meeting rooms had worked earlier. It would work now. Just to be on the safe side heâd stay out there until sheâd finished. If he ran out of logs, heâd fire up the lawnmower.
And there was another benefit of his strategy, he thought, identifying the sound of a camera clicking coming from the drawing room and striding across the hall. Laura could let herself out. Once heâd told her where he was going he need never lay eyes on her ever again. And then maybe, just maybe, his body would stop twitching and aching and straining, and heâd regain some sort of equilibrium.
Good. Excellent. It was a brilliant plan. With every step he took he could feel his head clearing and his sanity returning.
Until he got to the doorway. Where he stopped dead.
As heâd figured, Laura was in the drawing room. What he hadnât allowed for was that sheâd be investigating the fireplace. With her back to him, on her knees. With her legs spread and her bottom in the air.
His gaze dropped, automatically zooming in on her bottom, and as his blood rushed to his feet and his body began to pound with lust the breath whooshed from his lungs and his brilliant plan turned to
âWell, quite.â Laura swallowed hard and tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. âLook, Matt,â she said, giving him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, âI really do work better alone. And I promise not to run off with the silver.â
Matt frowned and then shrugged. âFine. Iâll be in the library if you need anything.â
Â
Oh, for Godâs sake, Matt thought, scowling down at the report into Sassaniaâs fishing quotas that heâd been trying to work on and shoving it aside. How long did getting a few photos take? The house wasnât that big, but Laura had been up there for an hour at least. She couldnât have found that much of architectural interest, could she?
Something banged right above his head and Matt winced. Perhaps she had. Judging by the sounds of scraping furniture and the hammering on walls that had been coming from various parts of the house, Laura was taking the whole place apart.
While part of him reluctantly admired her thoroughness and determination, another, more persistent part of him had spent the past hour wondering whether herenthusiasm and passion for her work carried over into other areas of life. Like sex.
An image of her lying on his bed, naked, her hair spilling all over his pillows, her long tanned limbs tangled in his sheets, her eyes all slumberous and inviting, slammed into his head yet again and his body stiffened painfully.
Matt shoved his hands through his hair and ground his teeth in frustration. This was ridiculous. He was a sensible rational man of thirty-three, not a hormone-ridden adolescent. So why was he finding it so hard to concentrate? Why had he spent the past ten minutes reading the same page of that damned report with still no idea of what it was about?
It hadnât been that long since heâd had sex, had it? He cast his mind back and tried to remember the last time heâd had a woman in his bed. Was it six months ago? A year? Surely it couldnât be longer than that, could it?
Matt frowned. Even if it was, there was no need to panic. Heâd been busy. That was all. And it wasnât as if he needed sex. Heâd gone far longer without it and had survived perfectly well.
Footsteps echoed down the stairs. His blood rushed to his head and he pushed himself away from his desk and leapt to his feet. He needed to get out, before he did something really rash like bundle her back upstairs and demand she show him the architectural features of his bedroom.
Heâd go and chop what was left of those logs. The release of hard physical work after spending months in stifling meeting rooms had worked earlier. It would work now. Just to be on the safe side heâd stay out there until sheâd finished. If he ran out of logs, heâd fire up the lawnmower.
And there was another benefit of his strategy, he thought, identifying the sound of a camera clicking coming from the drawing room and striding across the hall. Laura could let herself out. Once heâd told her where he was going he need never lay eyes on her ever again. And then maybe, just maybe, his body would stop twitching and aching and straining, and heâd regain some sort of equilibrium.
Good. Excellent. It was a brilliant plan. With every step he took he could feel his head clearing and his sanity returning.
Until he got to the doorway. Where he stopped dead.
As heâd figured, Laura was in the drawing room. What he hadnât allowed for was that sheâd be investigating the fireplace. With her back to him, on her knees. With her legs spread and her bottom in the air.
His gaze dropped, automatically zooming in on her bottom, and as his blood rushed to his feet and his body began to pound with lust the breath whooshed from his lungs and his brilliant plan turned to
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