A Scandal Made in London
Page 8
And then there was the battle for his self-control, which he’d started waging the moment Kate had walked into his office and detonated a savagely fierce and wholly unexpected reaction inside him. Was he winning that? By the skin of his teeth, and only then because he had years of practice.
He had not been prepared for her effect on him. The first and last time they’d met—at her brother’s funeral, an insanely tough and gruelling experience for a number of reasons—had certainly given no indication. This evening, however, she’d come through that door and for some unfathomable reason every sense he possessed had instantly sprung to high alert. The way she’d moved—languidly and sinuously graceful—had mesmerised him, and as she’d approached his desk, that web page she’d set up had slammed back into his head. So much for thinking he’d successfully excised it from his memory. Clearly he’d merely drawn a veil across it, a veil that her appearance in his space had instantly swept back.
With every step she took towards him, his blood had begun to heat and questions had started ricocheting around his head. Forget her vital statistics and her hobbies, he’d thought, his pulse thudding heavily and his body hardening. What he’d like to know more about was the tattoo. Where was it, and what was it of?
Then there was the tiny yet somehow momentous detail regarding her sexual experience. The ‘none’ of it implied that she was still a virgin, but regardless of its meaning, it shouldn’t have been of the slightest interest. However, infuriatingly, he seemed to find it fascinating because all he could think was, why? She was twenty-six and it couldn’t be from lack of opportunity. She looked like a goddess. Not, perhaps, conventionally beautiful, but certainly breathtakingly striking with her long blonde hair and big blue eyes and above average height.
And last, but by no means least, there were the photos, the last two in particular, which once seen could not unfortunately be unseen and were now indelibly etched into his memory. Those had had him instinctively thinking about the suite adjoining his office, the oversized bed he had in there, and her sprawled across it wearing nothing but that negligee.
Such a savage and unexpected assault on his senses had decimated his self-control and his body had responded—and was still responding—in the inevitable way, hence the subsequent battle.
However, he was concealing the attraction scorching through his blood effectively enough and he was well used to conducting a conversation that bore no reality to what was going on inside him. He might have been momentarily distracted when she’d shifted and the movement had exposed even more lovely long leg that he’d suddenly, appallingly, wanted to touch, but their discussion had remained—and would continue to remain—firmly on track. Kate would never have any idea of the fierce need pounding away inside him. It was purely physical and of zero importance anyway, and nothing she could do or say would ever entice him to yield to it. Not the blush on her cheeks, not the darkening of her irises, not the soft breathy gasp.
‘Is there anything else you need?’ he said coolly, his voice bearing not even a hint of the inner turmoil he was experiencing.
‘No. Thank you. I have everything else under control.’
Lucky her. ‘Let me know if that changes.’
‘Of course,’ she said, about to move again before clearly thinking the better of it, thank God, and adding, ‘And, actually, thank you for your offer of help. That “you win” of mine was churlish.’
‘It was.’
‘Although, to be fair, you had just ridden roughshod over my plans without any consideration for my feelings.’
She had a point, just not one he could bring himself to apologise for. ‘Perhaps.’
‘Nevertheless, that’s no excuse,’ she continued. ‘I apologise. My parents were particularly hot on manners. They’d be spinning in their graves at my lack of them...’ She tailed off for a moment, a flash of sorrow flitting across her expression, but then gave herself a quick shake. ‘Anyway,’ she said briskly, ‘I really am grateful for your offer. And since this seems to be the moment for it, I suppose I also ought to thank you for closing down that website.’
Sitting back and ignoring the desire to respond to that moment of grief because he didn’t do emotion and it was no business of his anyway, Theo rested his elbows on the arms of his chair. ‘Oh?’ he said, arching an eyebrow since only five minutes ago she’d been outraged by what he’d done. ‘Why?’
‘There were emails,’ she said with a shudder. ‘Disturbing ones. There are some very sick people out there.’
‘What did you expect?’ he said, not even wanting to think about the offers she might have received.
‘I’m not entirely sure,’ she said with a naivety he envied because he’d give everything he had not to know the depths people could sink to. ‘A few emails perhaps, maybe resulting in one or two regular clients with more money than sense. Certainly not that kind of a response. To be honest, it never occurred to me that my virginity would cause such a furore.’
He’d never have imagined taking such an interest in it either. He still couldn’t work out why he did. ‘You are pretty unique.’
Her eyebrows lifted and another blush tinged her cheeks. ‘Am I?’
‘In this day and age a twenty-six-year-old virgin is unusual.’
She appeared to deflate for a moment, but then rallied. ‘I suppose so,’ she said with a shrug.
‘What’s the issue?’
‘It’s none of your business.’
‘True.’
She tilted her head. ‘Why would you want to know anyway?’
Good question. He barely knew her. He didn’t do personal and didn’t need to know. He certainly had no intention of helping her out with it, and where the hell had that idea even come from? Nonetheless, he could tell himself all he liked that it was important to be in full possession of all the facts so he could stop he
r embarking on any further acts of recklessness, but the plain truth was that for some reason he just wanted to know. ‘I’m curious.’
‘It’s hardly an appropriate topic for a boss/employee conversation,’ she countered. ‘And besides, I’m still on probation.’