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Ruby’s law: while other women waste away in mourning, I gain ten pounds.
She scooted the back of the towel down with her free hand, while keeping her other arm locked over her breasts, so as not to give Luke even more of a peep show.
‘Do you want to show me where the issue is?’ His deep voice reverberated in the hot spot between her legs where the full body blush had settled.
Yes, please.
‘Ruby? Where’s the boiler?’ he asked, the demand in his voice startling her.
She shook her head, trying to kick out the erotic visions which had stalled every last one of her brain cells. Visions of Luke, looking hot and b
uff and helpful, sorting out the overheating issue between her thighs.
‘Yes … Absolutely.’ She coughed, attempting to dislodge the frog in her throat which was making her sound like Ennis Del Mar on a Marlboro bender. ‘It’s right through here,’ she finished. But as she lifted her arm to indicate where the boiler closet was, the towel slipped. She grasped the hem, fumbled with it and then wriggled and jiggled everything back into a respectable place … or rather, as respectable a place as it was possible to get to when she was butt naked under a napkin in front of the hottest guy in London and blushing like a menopausal nun.
She fled down the corridor towards the closet, trailing her lust and her mortification behind her – while convincing herself she had totally imagined the answering flash of heat in those ice-blue eyes. Because that way lay humiliation. Humiliation of the he-doesn’t-fancy-you-you-only-think-he-does-because-you-fancy-him variety. And she had been there enough in school and later while using Matty’s terrible blind-dating services to know what a dangerous place that was – not just for her ego, but also for conducting a working relationship with Luke.
How many times had she broken cover with boys at school and then had to sit next to them in chemistry class for the rest of eternity – knowing they thought she was a loser, or a nerd, or worse?
She could not afford to go there with Luke. And neither could The Royale.
The bitter memories of her loser school days helped to douse the flames still flickering between her thighs as his footsteps followed her down the hallway.
After trekking to Siberia and back they finally arrived at the boiler closet.
‘It’s in t-t-there,’ she stuttered, as a violent shiver racked her body.
‘Hey, you’re freezing.’ Before she had a chance to object, he’d doffed the checked shirt he wore over a black T-shirt and threw it over her shoulders. It was still warm from his body, the scent of sandalwood clinging to the brushed cotton as she inhaled. Another shiver hit her, but this one had nothing to do with the chilly flat.
‘Go get dressed while I take a look,’ he said, opening the closet and ducking inside.
She made a hasty retreat before she could make an even bigger tit of herself. But as she arrived at her bedroom door, she sneaked a peek over her shoulder.
All she could see of Luke was his long legs and exceptional backside as he bent forward to examine the boiler. A brand new collection of inappropriate erotic visions sent another hot flash through her body.
Look away from the man booty.
She darted into her bedroom.
Objectification is bad.
She repeated the mantra to herself while throwing on her underwear and some sweats – because there wasn’t much point in donning the newly pressed pencil skirt and blouse hanging on the back of her door, seeing as the good ship Professional and Efficient had already sailed into an iceberg. Or rather a volcano.
***
‘Is it fixable?’
Luke glanced over his shoulder at the quiet question. And let out a breath.
Thank the Lord. She was fully clothed. Although even with her flushed skin now swamped in baggy sweats, he could have sworn the sight of Ruby Graham’s bountiful curves barely contained by a towel the size of a postage stamp was going to be tattooed on his retinas for all eternity.
He swallowed heavily, unfortunately it didn’t do a damn thing to budge the lust still jammed down his throat.
‘Not without some parts.’
Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. ‘But with the parts you could fix it?’
‘I figure I can jerry-rig it so it’ll work – but I can’t guarantee it’ll last.’
