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With a brief shake of his head and a rueful smile, he went back to the comfortable winged armchair and the decanter of port his host had so thoughtfully provided, wondering when the last time was that a woman had so easily and carelessly refused him anything. His mind instantly provided him with the disturbing answer…never.
Blaise drank down the remainder of his drink with far less enjoyment than he’d anticipated and frowned. There was a certain lack of respect that manifested itself in him around anything that came to him too easily. That went for success and women. It was only natural that a beautiful, feisty female like his alluring visitor—a woman who was clearly not going to tumble into his bed at the click of his fingers—would inevitably arouse his interest. But, that said, despite Miss Hayward’s indignant assertion that she wasn’t ‘part of the floor show’, it was fairly obvious that she must belong to Jonathan. She had to. She hadn’t even bothered to deny it.
Dropping the crystal stopper a little impatiently into the decanter, he carefully returned it to the small rosewood table beside the chair. Raking his fingers through his sleek golden hair, he briefly closed his eyes, wishing he hadn’t allowed Jane, his agent, to convince him that he should capitalise on the current avid interest in his work from the theatre-going public and take advantage of some first-rate PR to promote his image.
All Blaise wanted to do was retreat to his remote house in the wilds of Northumberland, with nothing but the mournful soughing of the wind and the untamed beauty of the countryside for company, write to his heart’s content and let the world go its own tedious way without him.
He’d briefly become acquainted with fame during his three-year stint as a film actor, and the maelstrom of public interest at the time, as well as the intrusion into his private life, had been a right royal pain! If there were actors who craved fame, with all its dubious rewards and lack of privacy, then he wasn’t one of them. All he had been interested in was conveying the character he played to the audience with the utmost conviction and one hundred percent commitment. If he could do that then he wouldn’t have short-changed the people who had come to see him.
He applied the same passionate approach to his writing. Hopefully, when this current circus of media attention was over, he could return to Hawk’s Lair and pull up the drawbridge—for a little while at least. But, that said, it didn’t stop him continuing to speculate about the gorgeous brunette who’d inadvertently wandered in on him, with all that creamy cleavage so tantalisingly on display and a temper that—did she but know it—made her even more provocative than she was already.
His creative mind was already speculating on how that pent-up passion might be expressed in bed. Even more, it made him fantasise about helping her out of that sexy little dress later on tonight if even so much as half a chance came his way…
They stopped outside her bedroom door, with Maya twisting her arm behind her back to clutch anxiously at the doorknob as she desperately sought an escape route out of her predicament. Her boss swayed in front of her, alcoholic fumes making her grimace. Jonathan’s drinking was legendary, but he had surpassed his own reputation tonight. In fact, Maya was amazed that he was still standing, never mind trying to coerce her into bed. His chameleon-like hazel eyes—a little cloudy now from the effects of alcohol—dropped lasciviously to her cleavage. He put a hand out to the side of her, to help balance himself against the wall.
Ignoring her seriously startled expression as he loomed over her, he capitalised on the opportunity to move his body even closer, so that along with the fumes of alcohol her senses were assaulted by the overpowering smell of his French cologne.
‘I thought the dinner went really well tonight, didn’t you? But I’m really tired now, and I—’ Maya moved suddenly and darted to the side of him, just in time to deflect an oncoming caress, her heart racing so fast she was almost dizzy.
Frustrated and cross, Jonathan swore. ‘Screw the dinner! All I want to do right now is take you to bed. Think about it, darling. A girl like you deserves so much more than an admin assistant’s pay to get by on. Be nice to me and I’ll make it more than worth your while…You get my drift, don’t you, sweetie?’
He raised a perfectly groomed silver eyebrow to drive home his clumsily executed innuendo, reminding Maya so much of a dastardly rogue in one of those old silent movies that she almost laughed out loud. All that was missing was the famous handlebar moustache and the scene would be complete.
‘Yes, Jonathan. I do get your drift. But at the end of the day you’re my boss, and I make it a rule never to complicate professional relationships by allowing them to become personal.’ She sucked in a deep breath, trying not to let her voice falter. ‘I’m one of your employees…albeit a temporary one. That said, I’m going to decline your invitation and say goodnight. In the cold light of day I’m sure you’ll be glad I did.’
