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He looked down, catching sight of the paint stains on the front of his shirt, and he stopped. Should he have changed? Worn something more respectable for this conversation? Or at least something clean? Maybe he should have bought her flowers. Or chocolate. Aye, buttering her up first wouldn’t have been a bad idea. But it was too late now.
He stood in the middle of the room, his head hanging forwards, one hand on his waist and the other clutching the back of his neck. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing evenly. He wasn’t a boy. He could do this.
He let out a shaky breath. Was he even sure he wanted to ask her out? It was a big step. One huge step away from his marriage. From Fiona. But he couldn’t deny that all he was thinking about these days was Donna. Ever since his phone call with his brother, he’d been trying to reason things out. He wasn’t a coward, but he definitely felt like one. And then there was the guilt. Part of him still felt like he was betraying his wife.
But, as Hamish had said, he’d fulfilled his vows. Fiona was gone. And he still had, hopefully, a very long life to lead. He was sure that if he’d never become aware of Donna in any way other than as his housekeeper, he would have kept on pining after Fiona forever. But he had noticed Donna. And now that he had, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Dreaming about her. Longing to touch her. To taste her. To...
“What is it, Duncan?” The focus of his obsession stepped into the studio.
Duncan’s hands fell to his sides, and he took a step towards her before stopping himself. Don’t terrify her. Use your charm. The problem was, his charm—if he’d ever actually had any—was seriously rusty.
He saw her glance at the sofa, and then her cheeks turned pink. A deep regret filled him. He’d never meant to hurt her when she’d been posing for him. He’d just been shocked to hell.
“I’m sorry about the other day,” he said. “You surprised me.”
She let out a nervous laugh. “I surprised both of us. Now, what did you want?”
It was now or never. But he couldn’t do it like this. Not with her standing beside the open door, ready to bolt. “Have a seat.” He pointed at the sofa, realised she might not want to sit there again, and lifted the stool instead, positioning it in front of him. He pointed to it. “There.”
He mentally groaned. Great. That wasn’t weird at all.
Slowly, keeping her eyes on him, she crossed the room to sit on the stool. “Okay, I’m here now. Do you want to tell me what this is about?” She paled slightly. “You don’t have a brain tumour, do you?”
“What? No! Why would you think that?”
“You said please.”
“And that’s evidence of a brain tumour?”
“It’s the first time I’ve heard you use the word.”
He stared at her as his mind chewed on that little snippet. “I’ve never said please?”
“Not once since I’ve been here.”
They were getting off track. Duncan put his atrocious manners aside for the moment as he paced again. “I’m fit and healthy. That’s not why I called you in here.”
“Are you going to fire me?”
He stopped. “No!”
“Because after the other day and the inappropriate stripping, you would be totally justified in firing me.”
“I don’t want to fire you.”
“Okay, thanks for being so nice about it. But I realise I was out of line, and I’m going to start applying for other jobs. I’ll let you know as soon as I get one I like. I won’t leave you in the lurch.”
All thoughts of asking her out fled from his mind. “You’re leaving me?” He shook his head. “I mean, you’re leaving the mansion? No. Just no. The stripping didn’t bother me. I mean, it was fine. You looked fine. It was lovely. Damn it, woman, don’t apply for other jobs.”
“That isn’t your decision.”
He took a step closer to her. “Is it money? Do you need more? Does one of your sisters need money? I can give you what you want. You don’t need to go looking for another job. Hell, with the money I’ve made from my paintings, I have plenty to dish out.” He glared at her. “But not for people we fire. They don’t get any.”
“No, I don’t need more money.” She paused and looked away. “I just think that it might be time to move on. When I start doing crazy things like stripping for my boss, then I need to reassess my life. We live together and work together—lines get blurred. It isn’t professional.”
Lines get blurred? What lines? And why was she so focused on the stripping? It was perfectly normal to take your clothes off in a studio. She’d just surprised him. And then lust had blindsided him and he’d run like a coward. That wasn’t her fault. That was him. He didn’t understand her reasoning at all.
“Is someone bothering you? Is that what it is? Do I need to fire some staff and hire nicer ones?”
