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He was shirtless. Again. A light sheen of sweat covered his insanely chiselled torso and dampened the trail of hair disappearing beneath the waistband of weathered trousers that were stained with specks of marble dust and the special oil he used on his tools when he was sculpting.
Suki wanted to blame pregnancy hormones for the way her senses went into meltdown at the sight of his half-naked form, but she knew that would be false. Her stupefying reaction to Ramon was nothing new. But it would seriously get out of hand if she wasn’t careful.
‘You were saying?’ he pressed, one hand reaching into his back pocket to pluck a towel to wipe his grimy fingers on.
The sight of those slim, capable fingers, the sweat on his skin, the earthy, sexy smell of him.
Dear God, he was too much.
‘I was saying I’m fine,’ she replied, her voice waspish. ‘And do you have to go around half naked all the time?’
One eyebrow spiked. ‘Does the sight of me offend you?’ he drawled.
She wanted to laugh. And cry. Maybe throw in a scream or two. Instead, she chose the high road paved with composure and dignity. ‘On second thought, forget it. It’s your house. You can come and go as you please, I suppose.’
‘Gracias... I think,’ he returned dryly.
With nothing more to add, and the even more urgent need to do something other than give in to the temptation to stare at his glorious half-nakedness, she picked up the painting and started walking towards the door. She’d barely taken a few steps when he intercepted her and took it from her.
‘I hired an additional team so you didn’t have to do your own carrying, Suki,’ he grumbled.
Once her morning sickness had abated, a second team of architects had arrived. With the detailed photos from the room, they’d come up with a schedule of when the restoration works would start. She’d been forbidden
from any lifting so Suki set up a temporary office in one of the many bedrooms on the second floor and contented herself with choosing the antique furniture, wallpaper and drapes to finish the room with once the work was done.
‘That painting weighs less than my laptop and, besides, I need the exercise.’
His scowl was pure storm clouds. ‘Not one that involves you going up and down the stairs a dozen times a day.’
She stopped herself from pointing out that she’d only been down twice today, both times at his bidding, to share a meal with him. ‘Was there a particular reason you came looking for me? Or are you gracing me with your grumpy presence just for laughs?’
He paused at the top of the stairs and eyed her. ‘Now who’s grumpy?’
‘You haven’t answered my questions.’
He observed her pursed-lips response for a minute before he started walking down the stairs.
Following a step behind him, she couldn’t avoid staring at his gladiator-like physique, the beautiful musculature of his back and the light bounce of his slightly unruly hair as he moved in that deeply animalistic way unique to him.
One of the restorers was coming out of a hallway as they reached the ground floor. Ramon handed over the painting with a flurry of Spanish that received several quick and agreeable nods, before he turned to her.
‘Let’s go.’
‘Go where? And what did you say to the contractor?’ she asked.
He turned in the direction of the main salon and she, with no choice, followed. ‘I suggested that perhaps they would be better off making less trips to the kitchen to take advantage of our housekeeper’s culinary skills and more manpower keeping you from having to traipse around with antiques. He was kind enough to agree.’
‘Ramon!’
He stopped, turned to face her. And she noticed that, despite his casual tone, he was highly vexed. ‘We had a deal, guapa. One that I’d hoped wouldn’t need us to have this conversation.’
‘You’re overreacting.’
He stepped closer, bringing more of that irritated, hard-packed body into her personal space. ‘Am I?’ he enquired softly, his gaze raking her face before it locked on her mouth.
‘Yes, you are,’ she said. And then because she lived with the same fear every single second, she cleared her throat. ‘But I have it on good authority, they will be done before the end of the week, so they will be out of your hair.’
His eyes didn’t move from her mouth. ‘Bene. I will not have to tear my hair out after all.’
