Matt stared out of the large window of his penthouse suite above the office block. He had bought the suite because it saved time to live and work in the same building, and he’d hired a turnkey designer to sort out the décor for him. The result was a state-of-the-art modern living space in which he constantly felt as though he was somehow a jarring and unnecessary presence, breaking up the place’s austere and sterile symmetry of grey on grey, chrome, glass and granite.
Harriet would, of course, be fiercely contemptuous of it—and no doubt of him for living in it. He just somehow knew that she was an Aga and comfortable country house kind of woman. And somewhere deep down Matt suspected that a part of him was dangerously close to being an Aga and country house kind of man, with four children, who chose to work at home so that he could be with them…
Because of Harriet? Matt started to frown. Why the hell had he fallen in love with her? How the hell had he fallen in love with her? He’d only had to look at her to know what that red hair and passionate energy were going to mean! And that was without the complication of her blinkered fixation on a man who didn’t want her. If he had any sense he would… He would what? Turn his back and walk away from her?
So why the hell was he sitting here reliving the feel of that thick silky waterfall of hair running through his fingers and the effect of those awesome green eyes looking up into his?
If he hadn’t had the presence of mind to push her away there was no knowing what might have happened. No knowing? Matt derided himself savagely— he knew damn well what would have happened: what he had wanted to happen and where he had wanted to have it happen!
It had stunned Matt when a male business associate had commented enviously on his ‘playboy’ reputation, remarking on the number of women Matt was known to have dated. It had never occurred to him that the method he had chosen of trying to eliminate his feelings for Harriet would result in him gaining the reputation of a would-be stud! The truth about his supposed ‘reputation’ was that it was largely unfounded.
His recent succession of dinner dates had been just that—dinner dates! And by his choice! In fact he couldn’t remember the last time…
Restlessly he got up and walked over to the large window with its view of the city.
Liar, he goaded himself mentally. Of course he could damn well remember. And he could remember too that halfway through dinner he had suddenly looked at his elegant blonde-haired companion and realised with a savage stab of anger that he was both totally unaroused by her and totally bored with her.
That had been the evening after he had interviewed Harriet for the job. His date had been none too pleased to be returned home instead of being taken to bed, and she had let him know it!
Matt frowned as he heard his intercom buzz.
Striding over to it, he flipped it on.
‘Matt, it’s Ben. I need to talk with you.’
Matt hesitated briefly before answering, ‘Fine— come up, Ben.’
As he opened the door to him Matt could see the way Ben looked admiringly around the apartment.
‘This is way cool, Matt,’ he enthused. ‘But Harry won’t like it—’ he began, then stopped, looking selfconscious.
‘It’s okay, Ben. I know this place isn’t to Harriet’s taste,’ Matt offered, intending to reassure him, but to his surprise Ben suddenly started to scowl fiercely.
‘Harriet’s been up here, then, has she?’ he demanded, looking pugnacious.
‘We are dating,’ Matt answered obliquely, an unfamiliar and unwanted sensation of having been wrong-footed suddenly hitting him.
Ben’s current attitude was not exactly that of a young man who resented Harriet’s emotional dependence on him and wanted her taken off his hands at any cost.
‘It’s about Harry that I came to see you,’ Ben told him determinedly, giving Matt the kind of look he last remembered receiving from the very protective father of the girl he had taken to his first school dance.
‘I see. Would you like to sit down? Or is it going to be a short conversation?’ Matt asked drily.
A tinge of colour darkened Ben’s face, but his jaw was still set stubbornly. He had come up here for a purpose and he wasn’t going to leave until he had a reassured himself on Harriet’s behalf. She was his best friend, after all, and, knowing what he did about his own sex, he wanted to make sure she would be all right.
‘Harry hasn’t said much about how things got going between the two of you…’ he began. ‘In fact, I wouldn’t have thought she was your type. I’ve known her since we were kids, and she’s my best friend.’ Ben stopped, took a deep breath, then began again. ‘You said you were serious about Harriet and I hope that you mean that, Matt, because Harry just isn’t the type of woman who would let a man into her life in a personal sort of way if she didn’t care a hell of a lot about him. She was pretty badly hurt by a rat of a guy when we were at university. Luckily she had the sense to listen to me when I warned her about him, so things never went too far, if you know what I mean. Of course I know it isn’t anyone’s business but their own how many partners a person has had, and I don’t suppose I’d be all that pleased myself if I found I’d got a virgin on my hands…’ Matt pressed on doggedly.
A virgin! Ben was trying to tell him that Harriet was a virgin?
Two vastly different emotions speared through Matt at the same time. One was a savage protective fury with Harriet for loving Ben to the extent that she did—ridiculously, in this day and age, she was saving herself for him—and the other was a fierce and disgraceful thrill of hot male hunting instinct. An assured and certain determination to ensure that he was the one who released Harriet from the sensual imprisonment of her virginity.
‘So you see,’ Ben was continuing, ‘if your intentions towards her aren’t honourable, so to speak, then it would be better—’
‘Ben,’ Matt interrupted him firmly, ‘I can assure you that my intentions are very honourable.’
‘You mean…commitment…? Marriage?’ Ben questioned.
Matt’s mouth compressed.
‘Yes, I mean just that,’ he agreed. He meant it, all right, he recognized—after all, he couldn’t be any more emotionally committed to her than he was. She already occupied his thoughts 24/7, and as for marriage…
As for marriage! His heart lurched against his ribs and pain tore into him. If circumstances had been different, if Harriet had felt about him as he did about her, then of course he would be wanting marriage, Matt acknowledged grimly. And so, he damned well hoped, after what Ben had just told him, would she!
‘You do? Oh, well, that’s all right then!’
Beaming with delight, Ben got to his feet to shake Matt’s hand. ‘Great girl is Harry,’ he assured him enthusiastically. ‘Good sense of humour, great legs. Must say I was worried… I thought you might just be… Well, I thought I’d better warn you that Harriet isn’t that sort of woman.’
No, she wasn’t. And Matt decided grimly that he suspected he knew why!
‘Thank you, Ben,’ he said, dismissing his guest.
Half an hour later, when Harriet opened her door to Matt’s knock, the great legs were in evidence but the sense of humour was not.
Not that Matt was in the best of moods himself. The fierce sexual elation he had felt at being told that Harriet was a virgin had given way to an equally fierce and savage fury that she should be idiotic enough to want to save herself for Ben. Ben who did not want her and who, quite plainly, was not right for her! It was, Matt had decided, just the kind of ill-judged, crazy thing a stubborn woman like her would do—saving the gift of herself as well as her love for just one man.
Of course if he had been the man…
Harriet