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'Take a tip from me, honey," she drawled. "He's great in the sack — but men like de Maistre are bad news’
'I'll bear that in mind’ said Laura politely, though her heart had started hammering, adding to her already nervous state.
Xavier's cool-looking assistant had scrambled to her feet — as if she was about to rugby-tackle the blonde — but the woman was already flying out of the revolving glass doors, so the assistant gave Laura a can-you- belleve-It? shrug and sat clown again.
Laura blinked — because to be honest she didn't usually inhabit the kind of world where women flounced out of sleek offices, giving opinions on the sexual prowess of the man in charge of them!
"Is this an inconvenient time?" she questioned awkwardly.
"But surely you do not care whether it is inconvenient or not? ’ challenged a soft, silken voice from behind her. "Since you walk in off the street, demanding to see me — as though I am as accessible to you as turning on a tap."
Laura rose to her feet and turned around, her mouth opening to voice her rehearsed little apology — but the words froze on her lips. Of course legendary playboys were always going to be mouthwateringly good- looking, and his reputation had already preceded him — but the reality of seeing Xavier de Maistre in the flesh for the very first time hit her hard. Harder than she had expected. Laura blinked at him foolishly, like a woman who had never seen a man before. But in truth didn't it feel a little like that, because she had never seen anyone quite like him?
Legs slightly parted, hands splayed rather arrogantly on narrow hips, he stood like a man with all the confidence in the world — his whole stance one of sexual appeal and authority.
She had seen photographs of Xavier de Maistre — a whole glossy black-and-white set of them — and remembered dispassionately noting a curved beak of a nose and a mouth which was both sensual and cruel. She had known that his skin was darker than most of his race, and now she knew why. But what she had not been expecting was that his physical presence should be so...so...
overwhelming.
His deep olive colouring contrasted against the pale and exquisitely cut suit he wore, which was set off by a silk shirt and silk tie. Yet, although he carried the outfit off with the kind of sensual panache the world utomatically expected of a Frenchman, his hard and lean body seemed almost too rugged to be constrained by the expensive clothes. As if he should be wearing something much rougher, and more basic, or...or...
Or he should be wearing nothing at al!!
Now, what on earth had made her think that? Laura didn't do the sudden lust thing — and hadn't that been thrown in her face as both her strength and her weakness? Her eyes widened. She was shocked at the progression of her thoughts, but unable to tear her eyes away from him.
He seemed to dominate the room with his compelling charisma, but it was his eyes which drew her in the most — brilliant black eyes that had her fixed firmly in their sight, the coldest and cruellest eyes she had ever seen.
'You do not answer me," he observed. "I should have thought that someone who had the temerity to walk in off the streets expecting to see Xavier cle Maistre would have had a million smooth remarks to make." But your eyes are too busy devouring me, he thought, without surprise.
With an effort, Laura dragged her mind back to the real reason she was here. "I know this is an unconventional approach, 1 she conceded.
So she was English. "Such understatement is typical of your country, ’ he observed smoothly. "Are you selling something? ’
She stared at him, shocked. Did she look like a saleswoman in this outfit, which had cost as much as she normally earned in a month? "No.'
He was staring at her quizzically, but inside he was racking his brains. Had he met her? Non. He would have remembered. His eyes ran over her in swift assessment — yet he was having difficulty categorising her, and he was perplexed as to what made her seem so...He frowned. So different.
Was it her hair? A deep, dark mass which was lit with red, making her skin look almost snow-white against its intensity? Or was it her eyes — surely the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen? Large and wide, and as green as the most expensive emeralds which were for sale in the jewellery shops in the Avenue Georges V, just along the road.
Her figure was slim, but unfashionably feminine — with rounded breasts and a tiny waist which made the most of the curve of her hips. Clearly she had dressed to suit her shape, for she was wearing a suit — but a suit made of claret-coloured silk, which took the edge off its functional nature. With it she wore a wicked pair of shoes, made of the softest and sexiest suede he had ever seen. Their high heels accentuated the curve of her narrow ankles, and Xavier suddenly got a vivid and erotic image of what it might be like if those ankles were wrapped around his naked back...
> He swallowed, and cursed himself for not having satisfied his sexual hunger earlier, when he had had the chance. But he had always prided himself in being able to quell desire at will, and he did it now.
'Haven't you heard of the telephone?" he questioned sarcastically, in an accent as smooth as honey, underpinned with steel. "Didn't it occur to you to try the normal channels to set up a meeting with me? ’
And risk him questioning her about just why she wanted to see him? He might have accused her of being mad — and wasn't there a part of her which wouldn't have blamed him?
'Of course it did, ’ she answered carefully. 'But I had my reasons for this somewhat unusual approach. ’
"Did you? How very intriguing." His eyes narrowed, for there was something about her attitude towards him that he wasn't used to, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Because she was not quite as adoring as women usually were? Or maybe because she was not displaying quite the right amount of deference? "Who are you?" he questioned softly.
His black gaze seemed to scorch over her skin, and suddenly Laura wasn't sure. The mind which had been trained to sift information and compartmentalise it suddenly became a jumble as her thoughts trickled through it like a sieve.
All she was aware of was the magnetic quality of his stare, and the coiled power of his hard body, and the way that it seemed to make her want to...to...
It made her want to despair — because this was business; strictly business.
Or was it?
