“You probably did. But I didn’t look at it.”
He shrugged off his suit coat and hung it on the back of a chair. She refused to notice the way his muscles rippled under his dress shirt. She couldn’t be distracted.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t care who she is.” His arms folded over his chest. “She’s using me for publicity, and I’m using her to keep my life uncomplicated. And I trust my PA to pick someone who won’t embarrass me.”
“But maybe this girl is different.” She barely kept the frustration out of her tone.
A deep crease formed between his eyebrows. “What do you mean, different?”
“She’s really smart and informed. She’s a television news reporter, and she’s beautiful.”
“That doesn’t change anything.”
Her hands went to her hips. “But how are you ever going to find someone if you won’t even look?”
“Find someone?” The furrow deepened and he loomed over her. “Gram! You’ve been talking to Gram, haven’t you? She wants me to get married, and now she’s using my own PA against me.”
“I… uhmm…” Anne cowered at his fury. And Gram was going to be upset that she’d blown their cover.
“That little schemer!”
“She didn’t… Not really…”
“You!” He pinned her with a glare. “You will cease and desist. I don’t want a wife. I don’t need a wife. You said it yourself. After fifty years alone, no one would be able to live with me.”
At these words, her temper flared in defense. “I never said that about you. It’s probably true for me, after being a widow for fifteen years. But not you!”
She punctuated her words with a poke to his chest, forcing him backwards.
“You have everything you need to attract someone really great. You’re smart and rich and famous and handsome. You’re sweet and generous, and you have a great body. There’re probably a million women who want you. Any girl would be lucky to have you. And yet you won’t even try.”
He backed into a chair and sat down. Anne turned away from him and crossed her arms, suddenly finding it hard to catch her breath.
“You yelled at me.”
“I did not!” she said over her shoulder.
“You used a yelling tone of voice.” He let out a little snicker.
Anne swirled around, determined to stay angry. “And that won’t work.”
“What won’t work?”
“You can’t make me laugh so I’ll forget I’m mad. It won’t work.”
“It might work.”
“It won’t.”
“So I should give up?”
“Yes.”
“Throw in the towel? Cry uncle? Call it a day? Give up the ghost?”
“Stop distracting me.” She stifled a smile. “I’m mad at you.”