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She wasn’t listening—not properly. ‘Tell him I’ll call him back. I have a visitor.’
‘A visitor?’ Anna’s eyes left her to zone in on the man now only a few desks away. ‘Right—a visitor. No problem.’
She was sure if she bothered to look Anna would be as transfixed by him as she was. Hell, everyone would be. He demanded attention.
But the only attention you’re giving him is the been-nice-knowing-you kind.
Her tummy sank and she took a breath.
She could do this...
* * *
If someone had been riding his bollocks right now, Marcus didn’t think he could have been any more uncomfortable.
Her eyes were on him. He could feel it. And, God help him, he couldn’t even look in her direction. Andrews had been clear enough in his instructions. Out of the lift, across the foyer, through the rows of desks to the office straight ahead. That was where he’d find her.
And then the guy had pleaded. ‘Let me speak to her first.’
Like hell he was going to agree to that. The man had missed his chance. There was no way Marcus was going to let anyone but him deliver this news. He needed to do it, needed to make sure she gave him a chance to explain.
He paused at the desk positioned just outside her office door and looked to the petite blonde sitting on the other side of it. She was currently doing something of a fish impression, a phone receiver hanging limp in her hold.
‘Hi,’ he said. ‘I’m here to see Jennifer Hayes.’
‘Uh-huh,’ she said, making no effort to say any more or deal with whoever was on the other end of the line.
‘Soooo...’ he drawled, raising his brows and waving in the direction of the door. ‘Can I go in?’
She didn’t respond, but her eyes shifted to the office as the faint sound of the door opening reached him and sent every hair rising with the knowledge that she was approaching.
And then she spoke. ‘Mr Wright?’
Take a breath...
‘I think we can drop the “Mr”, don’t you?’ he said, turning on his heel and feeling the hit of her beauty like a slug to the stomach.
He righted himself against it, adopting his faithful mask. The one that had got him through deal after deal. Only this time he questioned its success. The power of his reaction was so strong he was sure even her PA, who was still in full-on fish mode, was picking up on it.
‘It’s Marcus,’ he said, putting one foot in front of the other and extending a hand, fixing his eyes on her face, not daring to lower his gaze, not wanting to see, but acknowledging all the same, the way the fabric of her green blouse clung distractingly close to her upper body. Or how the delicate length of her neck was accentuated by her hair being smoothed back and twisted into a severe knot high on her head.
Desire burned in his throat and he cleared it as her hand slipped inside his own.
She looked up at him, her crystal green eyes widening on a flicker of something—lust, nerves, fear... And then her hand closed around his and his blood rushed towards the contact, the softness of her palm doing things below the belt that he didn’t want to permit.
He searched her face. Did she feel it too?
Her eyes glittered, streaks of colour shone through the make-up on her cheeks, and then her lips parted on a breath, the tip of her tongue flicking briefly across her lower lip. It was still there, the chemistry, he was sure of it. And the very idea that he could work with her and keep it platonic was fast becoming laughable.
But he would.
His no-mixing-business-with-pleasure rule existed for a reason. If only he’d been able to remember that last night, when he’d realised who she was, rather than letting her...
A flashback of racing images sent heat ripping through him and he coughed abruptly.
She started at the sound, her eyes narrowing on him. ‘It’s nice of you to come by,’ she said, and then her eyes flitted about the room and saw their steadily growing audience. ‘Do you want to go on in?’ She gestured to her open doorway. ‘I just need a brief word with my PA.’
‘Of course.’ He nodded and she stepped around him. He stared after her, teasing himself with the swaying curve of her hips, snug within a black pencil skirt.
