And she’d also find out the name of the company that supplied the hotel’s soft furnishings because this was possibly the most comfortable sofa she had ever sat on.
* * *
When Lukas ended his phone call he turned back to find Eleanore Harrington had fallen asleep. He stood over her, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest as she breathed deeply. His eyes travelled lower to where her dress had risen to just above mid-thigh. She had fabulous legs. Shorter than he was used to because he didn’t date petite women, but no less shapely. And she still had on her brightly coloured ankle boots that somehow didn’t make her ankles look fat at all.
He almost felt like a voyeur watching her in her unconscious state. Or maybe it was that in sleep her face looked strangely innocent. Strangely...pure.
An odd sensation constricted his chest. Pure? He was surprised he even remembered the term, let alone recognised the quality. Pure and innocent hadn’t been part of his life since conception probably and he wondered how he could attribute the term to a woman who had gone toe to toe with him earlier over the slight he had caused to her family’s company.
He briefly considered waking her but she looked so peaceful he didn’t have the heart.
Instead he let his eyes drift back over her slender torso to her breasts that were well hidden by her plain dress and up to the quirky chopsticks she had in her caramel-brown hair. They couldn’t be comfortable and he had an impulsive urge to pull them out to see how long her hair was. To see it tumble down her back and spread out over the cream-coloured sofa.
Then he shook off the thought and frowned when he realised that his hands had moved closer to her to do exactly that. Diverting them to her feet he unzipped her boots and gently placed her feet up on the sofa. Immediately her body pitched more horizontal and her lovely legs curled up toward her chest in a child’s pose.
Lukas felt his body stir again and clamped down on it. He couldn’t deny that on some level she intrigued him and he’d certainly enjoyed himself tonight more than he’d enjoyed himself in a long time, but success was everything, and no slip of a woman would ever interfere with that.
He thought again about how she had taken him on over his criticism of her hotel. Probably she had been right to call him on it but the shock of having someone question his actions after being revered for so long had kept him from agreeing with her. Really though, she was right and he should have tabled his complaints appropriately instead of mouthing off on his phone to his PA.
Frowning, he wondered when he’d become such a self-important popka.
Not enjoying the unexpected attack of his conscience he fetched a blanket from the bedroom and draped it over her sleeping form. The chopsticks he left well enough alone.
* * *
When she woke up Eleanore blinked and wondered if someone had stuck her eyes together last night with glue. She lifted her hands to rub at them and felt the stiffness of her eyelashes and realised she’d gone to bed without taking her make-up off. Something she never did.
Still tired, she yawned and rolled over and felt the pull of her dress. Blinking herself awake she frowned as she realised she hadn’t taken her dress off either. Or her stockings. And she was on a sofa with a light blanket thrown over her. ‘What the...?’
‘Morning, spyashchaya krasavitsa.’
Startled, Eleanore’s hand flew to her chest as her eyes flew to the man leaning nonchalantly against the doorjamb. He was dressed in suit pants again and another pristine white shirt, open at the neck. She’d seen many men wear similar outfits at work over and over without noticing the width of their shoulders or the narrowness of their hips but there was something in the way Lukas carried himself that drew the eye like a moth to a flame.
Suddenly the events of last night came back in a rush and she realised she’d dreamt about his ice hotel. And him...
He strolled further into the room and she noticed he had a tall glass of water in his hand and that her mouth was as dry as dust. She also had the makings of a dull headache but it wasn’t enough to waylay her.
When he handed her the glass she drank from it greedily.
‘Thanks.’ She glanced around the room. Anywhere but at him. Then she frowned. ‘You should have woken me last night.’
‘I didn’t need the sofa.’
Eleanore placed the empty glass on the table. ‘That’s no excuse.’
‘I did take off your boots but you were so out of it I don’t think you would have woken up if an earthquake had hit.’
She grimaced. ‘It must have been the alcohol. I’m not used to it.’