‘Okay, you can come in now.’
She opened the door and stopped on the threshold. Gaped.
He was standing by the window, had turned to watch as she came in. He was in jeans. But still no shirt. From behind him the light touched his body like an aura giving it a golden glow. It didn’t need the emphasis. It was blindingly gorgeous already.
It was as if she were two feet from a launch tower that had just sent a rocket into space—the heat from the blast nearly eviscerating her.
His torso was bronzed, no sheen from sweat this time, but she wanted to see it wet again. Her fingers wanted to slide through the slickness, they wanted to torment him to slickness.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Since when did she have rabid sexual fantasies about a virtual stranger? Such uncontrollable, lusty urges? She blamed it on the sight of all that beautiful skin.
‘The first time was a mistake,’ she muttered. ‘The second you couldn’t help.’ She opened her eyes and stared some more, watching as he slowly walked until he stood ten inches too far within her personal space. ‘This time—’
‘Was entirely deliberate.’
ALL Sophy could hear was the thud, thud, thud of her heart. ‘Deliberate?’
He smiled. Such a slow, amused smile she wondered whether the word had actually emerged from her mouth or whether it had just been some sort of scared-animal squeak.
‘You seemed to like it,’ he said quietly, tiny twin lights dancing in his otherwise incredibly dark eyes.
Like it? Oh, that was the understatement of the century.
She blinked at him. He was so calm. So at ease in his gorgeous skin. So sure of his effect on her—the effect he definitely had on any woman—he was that confident. It was enough to slap sense back into her. ‘You’re definitely feeling better, aren’t you?’
‘One hundred per cent.’
‘Great.’ Sophy took a step back into the corridor. ‘Then perhaps you’d like to see what I’ve been doing with sorting out the admin in there.’
‘I’ve seen it. It’s looking good. It’s very easy to understand the system you’re setting up.’
‘Oh.’ She was deflated—he’d stolen the ball back just like that.
‘But we do need to talk about the function coming up.’
He walked out to the corridor after her. ‘And I need to show you some of the stuff to update the website. I understand Kat’s been helping you a bit when she can?’
‘Yes, she’s been great.’ Sophy tried really hard to keep her concentration on the conversation but it kept sliding down to where his flat abs hit his jeans. Unbelievable—both his body and her reaction to it.
‘The rest of the team will be back in later today. They’ve been helping on another project.’
‘The bar.’ Kat had told her about it. Lorenzo was the backer behind some guy opening up a new bar in the heart of cooldom. And she could totally be professional in the face of this provocation. Sure she could.
‘Yes.’ He was sounding all serious but his eyes were dancing. ‘Shall we go into your office and get on with it?’
She stopped only three paces along. Nope. She couldn’t be professional—not like this. ‘Do you possibly think that you could put a shirt on?’
A deep, totally pure sound of amusement rumbled out of him. ‘It really bothers you.’
‘It’s inappropriate.’ Sophy felt her temperature rising. She wasn’t a prude—really she wasn’t. But this was just before nine a.m. and they were at work. Hell, yes, it bothered her.
‘No more inappropriate than you bursting into my apartment and ordering a nurse for me.’
Sophy smiled, feeling a sense of power return. ‘Now that really bothered you, didn’t it? Me seeing you like that—in such a weakened state. Did it wound your male pride? Is that why you’re showing your muscles again now? Proving your masculine strength?’
‘You really think I was weak?’ He turned, his big frame took up half the space in the corridor. And then he moved. Instinctively she retreated—backing up against the wall. But he followed, totally hemming her in. She stuck her chin in the air trying not to feel anxious—or, worse, the lick of anticipation.
Sparks seemed to be coming from his eyes. ‘I don’t think I’m the one who needs to prove anything. I think that’s for you to do.’
‘What exactly do you think I need to prove? That you don’t bother me?’ Altitude sickness on the second floor—that was her problem. She must be the world’s first case but she’d swear the air was thinner here because she could hardly get her words higher than a whisper.
His brows flickered. ‘Don’t I?’
‘Of course you do.’
His brows shot higher. What, he hadn’t expected honesty?
‘You’re half naked. All the time,’ she explained the obvious. ‘But it’s the inappropriateness that bothers me. Not your actual body.’ Oh, great, now she sounded prissy. And not at all honest.
His smile was back showing off his even white teeth. And he was playing with her the way a cat did a mouse. She needed to talk to Rosanna—really badly. She needed advice from a pro. Because there was no way she was letting Lorenzo Hall win this with such one-sided ease. She wasn’t going to roll over and be the latest in what she was certain was a very long line—at least not without scoring some points of her own. For nor was she going to cut off her nose to spite her face. She wasn’t going to deny herself a moment of pure pleasure should the opportunity arise. Yes, he bothered her—like that. Yes, she wanted him.
But she’d make like Rosanna and have him on her terms. For once in her life she was going to turn her back on responsibility; she’d take a risk and go for something she wanted. She just had to figure out how.
Lorenzo knew he was being naughty. But there was that bit in him that had always derived pleasure from taking risks. From doing exactly what society said he shouldn’t—stretching the boundaries as far as he could and stopping only just before they broke.
He had matured—his transgressions were nothing near the edge he’d veered towards all those years ago. He stayed on the right side of the law now. But this oh-so-perfect Miss made him push it. Even just this little bit, to risqué, to rude, when really he wanted to ravish—really, really badly.
The look on her face had been worth the dodgy removal of his shirt. So worth it—even if he was struggling to contain his wayward hormones now. He just wanted to reach out and pull her against him—hard. His skin was on fire—had been since she’d touched him in his apartment the other day. Her small, cool hand hadn’t soothed him at all—had only stirred the desire he’d already been battling to control. In those first twenty-four hours when the sickness was at its worst, he’d done nothing but dream of her. He was still dreaming of her and where he wanted that hand.
He’d been working too hard, round the clock with no room for fun. But it should ease up soon. Once the bar was open he’d be able to take a step back. And have some fun. Then again, there was no reason why he couldn’t have some fun right now.
Her eyes had narrowed. He could just about see the cogs turning and whirring in her brain. The vixen-with-training-wheels looked as if she was plotting.
A phone rang—hers. Her hand went to her bag. He was disappointed