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‘I’ve had enough. Besides…alcohol’s not the answer.’
‘Not the answer to what?’
‘To what’s bothering me right now.’
‘What is bothering you, Blaise? I don’t want to pry, but if I could help in some way…?’
Along with that soft-voiced suggestion, Maya’s wide-eyed, innocent gaze sent a provocative charge of undiluted lust straight to Blaise’s loins, leaving him aching, aroused, and frustrated as hell that he could do damn all about it right then. Especially when the lady who had provoked his uncomfortable condition seemed completely oblivious to his dilemma!
‘Blaise?’ she prompted, sounding concerned.
‘It’s nothing to worry about. I was only thinking about the play and how much there is to do. Tomorrow I need to crack on with it, and in order to do that my mind needs to be clear and sharp. What I’m saying is that I think I’ll call it a day. Hope you don’t mind? I’ll see you in the morning, Maya. Sleep well.’
And with this sudden declaration he pushed to his feet, dropped his napkin on the table next to the polished candelabra with its soft flickering candlelight, then swiftly exited the room. No doubt leaving his beautiful new assistant to perplexedly ponder at her leisure on his sudden and rather abrupt need to leave…
The next morning, as he walked into the kitchen craving his usual cup of strong black coffee, the frustration of the previous night had scarcely improved. Even a hot, invigorating shower had failed to banish either the sensuous aching that had seized his body or the thoughts in his head that seemed obsessed with just one thing and one thing alone…making love to Maya.
A relentless tide of lust and desire for her had mercilessly tormented Blaise all night, keeping him awake practically from midnight to dawn. Only when the softly smudged pinkish-grey light of morning had streamed through the bedroom windows—windows that he invariably left uncovered and opened in the summer—had he perversely managed to close his eyes and fall into a deep sleep.
‘Good morning.’
The reason for his disturbed night stood in front of him, stirring a mug of coffee at the kitchen counter. She was dressed in fitted black jeans that hugged hips and thighs goddess-like enough to send every male from here to Alaska howling in delight at the sight of her and thanking the universe that he’d been born a man. On her top half she wore another fitted white cotton shirt that couldn’t help but make much of the fact that her waist was tiny and her bust was…Well, he couldn’t think of a single epithet just then that would do it justice. All Blaise could do instead was recall the sight of it contained in that knock-out black dress he’d first seen her in, and he was turned on all over again…instantly. To complete the highly arresting package she made, a small carved butterfly on a fine gold chain nestled at the base of her smooth skinned throat, and her emerald eyes gazed back at him like those of one who had slept the sleep of the innocent and woken as refreshed and rested as it was possible to be.
Because Blaise felt so grouchy, it was a double kick in the guts to encounter her fresh-faced loveliness and know that in comparison he must look like a man who had just crept out of some God-forsaken cave in the desert, where he’d slept on rocks all night!
‘Good morning.’ His voice sounded as if he’d been gargling with rusty nails too. ‘Sleep well?’
‘It’s the best night’s sleep I’ve had in years! Honestly, I’m not joking. The sofa-bed I use at home is hardly the most comfortable thing in the world, and I usually wake up in the morning aching all over and feeling like I’ve been kicked by a donkey!’
‘Doesn’t sound very appealing, I have to say.’
‘Trust me…it’s not. Would you like some coffee? Lottie had the percolator going when I came in and told me to help myself.’
‘Please.’
‘And how about some breakfast? I told Lottie I could see to it, as she’d got a pile of ironing to be getting on with.’
‘Not for me, thanks, but you go ahead if you want something.’
‘I’m fine. I never eat much in the mornings…so just some coffee for you, then?’
‘That’s all, thanks.’
He sat down at the table, scraped both hands backwards and forwards through his already tousled hair, and tried to force his distracted mind to focus on the play. In the entire history of his writing career never had anything been more seriously difficult…if not downright impossible…as he watched Maya cheerfully pour his coffee and bring it across to him, his gaze fixated on the gentle sway of those womanly hips in her spectacularly well-fitting jeans.
