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‘I’ve asked Lottie to make dinner for eight tonight instead of seven…do you mind? I’d like to work on as long as possible before we break again.’ Standing by the door leading back into his study, Blaise briefly checked his watch before settling his arresting gaze once again on Maya.
She almost had to shake herself out of the trance she’d fallen into. That voice of his was a seductive weapon, bent on the complete capitulation of the listener, she was certain. Along with the sheer sensual heat that radiated from his hard, leanly muscular body, it made her knees almost buckle and every muscle she possessed contract with an answering devastating warmth.
‘I—I hope you don’t think this sounds too weird…’ to cover her confusion she started to babble ‘…but when we were out there walking alongside the wall, I could almost hear the marching feet of the Roman soldiers—as though…as though the sound was contained and preserved in the very earth…Do you know what I mean?’
What she told him was absolutely true, but the way Blaise was studying her made Maya feel as if he’d just moved his body right up next to hers and demanded she kiss him. His pupils had contracted with genuine surprise at what she’d said.
‘I do know what you mean. I’ve had the same thought myself many times when I was up there. The place is full of ghosts from the past. You’re obviously very sensitive and receptive to that sort of thing.’
Ghosts from the past… Maya shuddered softly. She certainly knew about those. ‘Well, I’ll let you get on. I’m fine with dinner at eight.’
‘Good.’ Delaying his departure by another couple of disconcerting seconds as his glance lazily drifted across her face, Blaise finally moved away back into his own office and closed the door behind him.
Maya had returned to her room to change for dinner. Having showered and got ready in double-quick time himself, Blaise sat on the edge of the huge king-sized bed he occupied alone and tried to think over the progress he’d made on the play.
Trouble was…every time he tried to focus on the day’s work the TV screen of his mind kept switching to the channel where Maya had the starring role. Too restless to patiently sit and wait for her, he got up and went out into a corridor lined with much of the highly covetable art both he and his parents had collected over the years. Maya’s room was about halfway down the corridor from his and, scrubbing his hand round his newly shaven jaw, Blaise rapped smartly on the oak panelling. Half hoping she’d answer the door wrapped in just a towel, or that short little robe she’d had on that morning he’d called on her unexpectedly in Camden, he felt his lips twitch with a wry grin. He was behaving like a schoolboy who had just hit puberty with a vengeance! But then this was one bewitchingly beautiful woman, and when he was around her it just didn’t seem possible for him to behave like anything else.
She wasn’t just beautiful either…she was intelligent and sensitive too. Not to mention damaged by whatever had gone on in her past. The grin on his lips vanished as he soberly considered if he wouldn’t live to regret inviting her to work for him after all.
‘Hi. Am I taking too long? Just let me put my shoes on.’
Fragrant and bare-footed, Maya greeted him at the door, her long dark hair flowing down over the black silk sleeveless top she wore with matching palazzostyle trousers, dazzling green eyes bright as newly polished crystal. Blaise took one look at her and knew he had never wanted anything in his life more…
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘THERE’S no hurry. I just thought we’d go down to dinner together. Go put your shoes on…take your time. I’ll wait.’
‘Why don’t you come in, then?’ Her skin flushed a little as she said this, and Blaise saw with satisfaction that she was equally as affected by seeing him as he was her.
Accepting her invitation, he entered the room and shut the door behind him. Hurrying across to the wardrobe to retrieve a pair of flat gold sandals, Maya sat back on the bed to put them on, inadvertently giving him a highly arousing glimpse of her scarlet-painted toenails. But then out of the corner of his eye he saw the portrait of her as a child propped up against a striped slipper chair, and a jolt of surprise shot through him.
‘You brought the picture.’ Drawn by its beauty, as he had been before, he found himself standing in front of it, all the better to study it more closely.
‘I always take it with me on longer trips.’ A rustle of silk, the scent of some sweetly floral perfume, and its owner suddenly stood there beside him.
‘Presumably you have it well insured?’
