Mr. Loverman. Mary Lyons
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‘I came here today to see you,’ he continued, ‘with the sole purpose of bringing you tidings of comfort and joy.’
She gave a snort of cynical disbelief. ‘That’ll be the day!’
‘“O ye of little faith”!’ he murmured, his lips curving into a broad grin of sardonic amusement.
Maybe it was that arrogant, supremely confident smile that finally pushed her over the edge? Mulling over the unfortunate episode later, Laura would realise that losing her temper with the awful man had not been a good idea. But, suddenly consumed with blind rage at his damned condescension—and the fact that he seemed to be using her home to recover from a night out on the tiles!—she hadn’t given a thought to the consequences.
‘Don’t you dare quote the Bible at me, you...you two-timing Casanova!’ she stormed. ‘And my apartment is definitely not a rest-home for tired old theatrical agents,’ she added furiously, bending down to push his feet off the sofa:
The next few seconds seemed to whiz by in a blur. One moment she was leaning down over the arm of the couch, and then—in what seemed like the twinkling of an eye—she found herself being pulled roughly forward, almost flying through the air, before finding herself lying sprawled on top of Jack’s long, hard body.
‘For heaven’s sake!’ she gasped, lying winded and dazed for a moment. Then panic set in as she felt his arms closing about her. ‘What...what on earth do you think you’re doing?’
‘I don’t like being referred to as either “old” or “tired”. Nor do I care to be shouted at by hoity-toity females!’ he drawled with silky menace, although there was a faint smile on the face only inches away from her own.
‘I can’t think why you’ve suddenly become so choosy. Everyone knows you just love chatting up your difficult female clients,’ she retorted breathlessly, frantically trying to wriggle free from the arms now ominously tightening about her like bands of steel.
‘Ah, but you’re talking about work. While this...’ he gave a low, sensual laugh ‘...this definitely comes under the heading of play!’
‘Not for me, it doesn’t!’ she panted, furious at finding herself so firmly trapped in his embrace and desperately trying to ignore the effect that his hard, muscular body was having on her own, trembling figure.
Jack raised his head, the piercing grey eyes studying her flushed features for a brief moment. ‘Liar!’ he taunted, his broad shoulders shaking with wry amusement as he leaned back on the cushions once more.
‘OK, Jack—you’ve made your point. Now, please let me go!’ she begged huskily.
‘No...no, I don’t think so. I’m rather enjoying myself at the moment,’ he murmured softly. ‘On the other hand, I can’t help thinking that we’d both be more comfortable if our positions were reversed.’
‘No!’ she shrieked. But he was already putting his words into action. A second later, she found herself lying on her back, trapped against the rear of the sofa on one side, with Jack’s broad-shouldered figure firmly blocking her escape on the other.
‘I’m not putting up with this sort of nonsense!’ she declared breathlessly as she struggled to sit up, grimly tugging at part of her long robe which had become caught beneath his body. ‘Let me go!’
‘Not just at the moment...’ he murmured, leaning forward to trap her beneath him, raising his hand to brush a stray lock of hair from her face before tucking it gently behind her ear.
‘Are you deaf? I said that I want you to let me go,’ she hissed, doing her best to ignore the swirling mass of emotions racing through her veins at his soft touch.
Completely ignoring her protests, he slowly and deliberately wound his fingers through her damp hair. ‘The past few weeks have been hell without you, Laura,’ he muttered. ‘I hadn’t realised just how much I need you by my side.’
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