He suddenly needed to make her laugh again, to lift the trace of heaviness from her heart. Twirl her around the room and see her sparkling green eyes dance with excitement. To be the source of her happiness.
“That’s beautiful. I’ve never heard it described quite so vividly. Lovely.” He flashed her a devious smile. “Sorry. I’d have studied my thesaurus had I known you were coming.”
Her head snapped in his direction, her cheeks flushed a bewitching shade of crimson, and her fiery glance ignited him. She spun on her heel and stormed back through the living room.
Embarrassed? Angry? He couldn’t tell. But she clearly didn’t like being reminded of what had happened last week. He had hoped to make her laugh again, but this might be better.
Watching her ponytail bounce its delightful “go fuck yourself” message against her back, he grinned.
To hell with playing nice. Yes, this could be fun.
Mackenzie stomped back to the foyer and knew he was following her, which irritated her further. She knelt down, dug into the satchel, and pulled out a cell phone.
“Calling your boys downstairs?” he asked.
“No, I’m calling Martin to tell him to reschedule.”
“But I want the painting installed today.”
Those damn blue eyes were probably raking across her ass. She could practically feel them on her bare skin. Did her waistband dip too low when she stooped? She grabbed a belt loop on the back of her jeans, stood up and hoped she looked as mad as she felt.
But if she told the guys they were leaving, they would wonder why. She supposed she could lie, say the client wasn’t available, but what if Dom followed her down? Then what?
She decided to ignore his references to the auction and pretend this was a normal install. That was how she’d get through this. Just get the painting hung and leave. Not get sucked into his stupid game. “Fine.”
He’d played her at the auction and, most likely, he was playing her now. He couldn’t care less how she felt about the view. He probably just wanted to soften her up to get in her pants again.
“Can I get you something?”
She forced herself to examine the soaring open-beam ceiling rather than the way his ass looked in those jeans as he headed for the kitchen.
“Latte, perhaps? Water?” He said something else but she couldn’t make it out.
“No. I won’t be long.”
The open kitchen was a dream with granite and stainless steel. The high-pitched whine of the milk steamer filled the room. Four upholstered stools perched beneath the island counter, a perfect gathering place for people who liked to cook together or for a chef who liked an audience.
“Aren’t you worried about things flying out?” he asked, indicating her satchel on the floor of the foyer. “Bad Feng Shui?” She heard the amusement in his voice.
“It’s not my purse,” she said through gritted teeth. He was clearly having way too much fun tormenting her. She couldn’t wait to get out of here.
She yanked a clipboard and measuring tape from her bag and peered down the long hallway, surprised to see so many doors. His loft had to take up half the floor. Which room had he come out of? Did anyone else live here with him? Girlfriend? Theoccasional weak-kneed hook-up? She heard footsteps behind her.
“Let me just take a look at the space then I’ll get the workers up here. They’re waiting in the van. We’ll get the piece hung and be out of your hair.”
“I’m in no hurry, unless you are.” He handed her a large coffeehouse mug.
She tried to protest, but he shoved it at her. Taking a sip, she discovered the drink was light on the chocolate, heavy on the whipped cream. Just the way she liked it. Lucky guess.
“Let me show you the two places I had in mind. Right this way.”
His fingers brushed the back of her arm and she shivered. He guided her down into the living area again and pointed to a huge empty wall behind a cream-colored leather sectional.
“That’s one place. I like the lighting, of course. Natural, not manmade, but I don’t want it to compete with the view. Besides, the piece is a little intimate for a living room, don’t you think?”
His breath skimmed over her ear, causing loose tendrils from her ponytail to dance on her cheek. He was closer than she’d thought. Inches away, actually. Hadn’t he just been on the other side of the ottoman? She felt herself shift slightly toward him.
Hell, what was she doing? She set her mug and clipboard down, grabbed the tape measure and folded her arms tightly against her chest.
