Red-Hot Affairs. Lucy King
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Laura was at the party was easier said than done, Matt thought, an agonising hour later.
He might not have had any need to approach her, but that didn’t stop him being aware of every move she made. It didn’t stop him subconsciously manoeuvring himself towards her, and it didn’t stop him wanting to march over and throw out any man she spoke to, smiled at or laughed with. Of which there were far too many.
Running a finger around the inside of his collar, Matt felt uncomfortably hot and weirdly on edge. His muscles actually ached with the effort of keeping his body where it was and his brain hurt with the effort of concentrating on the conversations going on around him.
Unable to help himself, he glanced over to where she was chatting and smiling, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks pink. He caught her eye. She arched an eyebrow, as if she was well aware he was avoiding her, and something inside him snapped.
This was absurd. Trying to ignore her wasn’t working. Why the hell shouldn’t he just go over and say hello? That wouldn’t kill him, would it?
Gritting his teeth, Matt excused himself and started to make his way over to her.
Which wasn’t as easy as it sounded. She was standing only a few metres away, but she might as well have been in a different country. To his intense frustration people kept coming up to him like heat-seeking missiles. Interrupting his trajectory and wanting to have a word.
By the time he finally made it to her, he’d agreed to a dozen things he probably shouldn’t have, and his already stretched-to-the-limit patience was dangerously close to snapping.
It wasn’t helped by the lifted chin or the cool haughty smile she greeted him with. Or the long strapless blue dress she was wearing that matched her eyes and clung everywhere. Did she have any idea how little it left to the imagination?
Matt thrust his hands in his pockets. ‘Good evening,’ he said, his tone far sharper than he’d have liked.
‘Your Majesty,’ she said, dropping into a graceful curtsey.
What the hell? Matt ground his teeth. ‘Don’t do that.’
She rose and gave him a smile that had his heart pounding. ‘Am I doing it wrong?’
‘No.’ She did it very well. Sank so low that he could see straight down the front of her dress. ‘But don’t do it again. Not you.’
She sighed dramatically and pouted. ‘And I spent such a long time practising.’
Matt blinked and tried to keep his eyes out of her cleavage and some sort of grip on his control. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I thought it might be a good idea to see how the ballroom works. From a restoration perspective.’
‘Gatecrashing?’
‘Not at all,’ said Laura coolly. ‘Once I explained my intentions to Signore Capelli, he added me to the guest list.’
Hah. As he’d thought. He’d definitely be having words with his secretary.
‘Nice dress.’ His voice sounded strangely hoarse and he cleared his throat.
‘Thank you. Nice suit.’
‘Thank you.’
She tilted her head back to take a sip of her champagne and Matt’s gaze dropped to her throat. Soft and creamy skin. Completely exposed. He curled his hands into fists deep in his pockets to stop himself reaching out, pulling her against him and setting his mouth to the pulse thumping at the base of her neck.
Then she lowered her glass and shot him a languid look and a smouldering smile that set his body on fire. ‘Are you all right, Matt?’
He pulled himself together. ‘Fine. Why?’
‘You look a little uncomfortable.’
‘Just a trifle warm.’
‘So why are you glowering? This is a party. You shouldn’t be glowering.’
‘It’s my party. I can do whatever I like.’
Her smile deepened. Turned faintly knowing, and Matt’s pulse hammered. Would anyone notice if he hauled her away somewhere private to continue the party alone?
‘Well, you must be busy,’ she said, her voice unusually husky. ‘Don’t let me keep you.’
‘You aren’t.’
‘Great speech.’
Had it been? He couldn’t remember. Her gaze shimmered at him with something he couldn’t identify but made desire pound through him.
Matt’s head swam. What on earth had got into her tonight? Where had this sultry hauteur sprung from? And what was he going to do about it?
‘This is a lovely room,’ she said, looking up and giving him another view of her throat.
‘I don’t want to talk about the room,’ he grated.
If she was surprised by his tone, she didn’t show it. In fact her eyes began to sparkle with something that looked suspiciously like triumph. Which only wound him up further. ‘Then what do you want to talk about?’
He didn’t want to talk at all. ‘Why did you dash off like that earlier?’ he said, drawing on the first thing that sprang to mind.
Laura lifted her shoulders and Matt had to force himself not to glance down. ‘Things to do.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Running away from me seems to be becoming a habit.’
‘Not at all. You simply reminded me of my place, that’s all.’
Matt frowned. What the hell did that mean? Her place was in his arms. Beneath him. On top of him. Whichever way, plastered against him was where she should be.
His jaw clenched as the desire pounding through him grew hotter, more insistent.
He’d had enough of this. Enough of the eyelash batting and the sultry little smiles. Enough of the hammering desire and tight tension keeping him awake all night and ruining his concentration all day. Enough of trying to resist her.
For whatever reason, Laura was in a dangerous mood tonight and, despite his best efforts to hang on to it, Matt’s control was slipping away like sand through an hourglass. He’d never felt such a need clawing at his gut. Never felt such desperation. Never had so little desire for conversation.
To hell with the entrepreneurs. He’d done plenty to ease their concerns. Now it was his turn.
Stepping forward, Matt took her elbow and pulled her against him.
‘What are you doing?’ Laura muttered, her breath catching.
‘We’re leaving,’ he said as the scent of her spun into his head and obliterated all rational thought.
‘We can’t.’
‘We can and we are.’
She glanced up at him, a tiny frown creasing her brow. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘Very.’
‘What is it?’
Out of the corner of his eye Matt caught the flash of movement, a glimpse of someone heading over to talk to him. Oh, no. No way. ‘Have you seen the Sala dell’Anticollegio yet?’ he said loudly, wheeling her off in the opposite direction and not giving her time to answer. ‘Incredible vaulted ceiling. Badly in need of some TLC.’ As was he.
So much for lofty hauteur, thought Laura, tottering alongside Matt in her three inch stilettos.
It had all been going so well. She’d been cool and collected and she’d been enjoying the party hugely. Well, as much as anyone burning up with longing could.
She’d felt Matt’s eyes on her the entire evening, making her heart thump