That had been all he needed to sum her up? Sophy wasn’t used to being dismissed so quickly. She might not have lived up to her family’s stellar success in the legal fraternity, but she did okay in the appearance stakes. Always immaculate. Always appropriate. Presentation had been drilled into her for so long it was second nature now. So she knew she looked more than acceptable in her baby-blue linen skirt and pressed white shirt. Her lipstick was muted but smooth and her face wasn’t shiny. Her one-style-only hair would be in place—she didn’t even have to try for that to happen.
The ball had bounced a couple of times. He barely had to move to retrieve it. Once it was back in his broad hands he turned and gave her another look—even more pointed. Then he turned back to face the baseboard, took careful aim and replayed the shot—landing it this time.
Sophy would have turned and walked if she wasn’t too angry to move. So that was the way of it, huh? His little game of by-myself-basketball was more important than a meeting scheduled with her. She’d heard nothing but positives about this guy’s charitable organisation. Had heard the rumours about his own background and his meteoric rise—marvellous, wasn’t it, people said, that someone with a background like that could become such a success?
Well, Sophy wasn’t about to patronise the selfish jerk. ‘Are we meeting any time soon?’ She refused to offer to come back at another time—bit back the conciliatory words by pushing her jaws together. She wasn’t going to put herself out at all for him.
The ball had bounced back to him again. He tossed it to the side and walked towards her. His jeans sat low on his hips. He wore them with no belt and she saw a glimpse of a waist band—briefs or boxers? She shouldn’t be wondering. But she couldn’t stop looking.
There was no fat beneath his skin, just lithe muscles that rippled as he walked. She managed to force her gaze a fraction higher, skimming over the dusting of masculine hair, the dark nipples. He had straight, broad shoulders. Sleek curving muscles stretched down his arms. And all over was the sheen of sweat—burnishing the smooth, sun bronzed skin.
She found she was mirroring his slight breathlessness. His chest was rising and falling that bit quickly, that bit jerkily, and her own felt tight as she studied him. He had an amazing torso—the strength, the undeniable masculinity had her spell bound. Her gaze coasted down wards again.
He took two more steps—bringing him too close. Startled, she looked up as he loomed over her. Realised that with a narrowed, keen gaze he was watching the way she was looking him up and down.
She met his stare, matched it, refusing to let her embarrassment at being caught ogling burn her skin red. But then, when he knew he had her attention, he let his gaze strip down every inch of her body. She actually felt the way his attention lit on her neck, on the small V of exposed skin on her chest, on the curve of her breasts…
She fought harder to stop the blush and felt her anger resurge. But she probably deserved it. Hadn’t she just done this to him? But not intentionally—not provocatively. She just hadn’t realised quite how obvious she’d been or how long she’d been staring—her brain had gone AWOL while her eyes feasted.
But his was a deliberate, blatantly sexual action.
Her toes curled in the tips of her heeled pumps. The rest of her wanted to shrivel too—so she could disappear. And she used the anger to block that other message striving to move from brain to body—the desire that wanted to unfurl and scurry through her veins.
‘You must be Sophy.’ He gestured back to his mini basketball court. ‘I was thinking. Lost track of time.’
Well, that fell way too short for an apology.
‘My time is valuable to me,’ she asserted vocally for the first time in her life. ‘I don’t like it being wasted.’
Certainly not by a half naked man. Not like this anyway.
Those black, bottomless eyes met hers. The colour rose a little higher on his cheekbones. She wasn’t sure if it was from exertion, embarrassment or anger. She suspected the latter.
‘Of course,’ he said smoothly—too quietly. ‘I won’t do it again.’
Something had kindled in his eyes as he’d added that. Something she didn’t care to define. As it was she felt herself flushing—unable to stop it now—as if she were the one in the wrong. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Stole another quick glance at his torso and then aimed to concentrate on the concrete.
‘You never seen a man sweat before, Sophy?’ His soft question hit her in the gut.
The crisp spring morning suddenly got a whole lot hotter. She tried to say something. Couldn’t. The dry irony in his voice just devastated her.
He turned away from her. ‘Want to play a little one on one?’ he asked. ‘I find it helps me focus. You might find it helps you too.’
Oh, so she needed help with focus? Heaven help her she did.
‘It’s also good for burning excess energy.’
Now that was said with deliberate innuendo. He was trying to tip her balance—as if he weren’t doing it already with his sheer physicality which was on display. With considerable effort she pulled herself together. Well, she could do a little innuendo too. His few words could flame, but her cool delivery would crush. ‘I’m obviously over dressed.’
His eyes widened fractionally, before he replied calmly, ‘Easily fixed.’
She lifted her brows very slowly, determined to stay cool. ‘You want me to strip?’
He laughed then, his whole face breaking into an absolute charmer of a smile. Sophy lifted her fingers to her mouth to stop her jaw from gaping in surprise. His whole demeanour changed—like quicksilver—from seriously brooding to sparkling good humour. The flash was utterly intriguing and devastatingly attractive.
‘It would be fair, don’t you think?’ he said. ‘I mean, you have me at a disadvantage.’
‘You put yourself at a disadvantage.’ She was even more breathless now. And privately she thought his semi-nudity a huge benefit to him—how to fuzzle the minds of your business opponents in one easy step. She angled away from him—trying to recover her equilibrium. She got a clear view of the fence and saw one section was covered with a huge bit of graffiti. The colours leapt out, almost 3D, in bold blocks. An image of a man—like an ancient statue—with vibrant shades of blue leaping out from behind and an in decipherable word shooting up from one side. She’d never have expected it; the reception area she’d walked through had been incredibly slick—it was only the office upstairs that had been a total mess. Now there was this—what many people would consider an eyesore.
He walked in front of her line of vision and picked up the ball again, spinning it in his hands. ‘We can talk through the details at the same time.’
He was still smiling but there was an edge back now—a deliber
ate challenge. But it was one she just had to turn down. No way was she playing ball with him. This wouldn’t be like some Hollywood movie where she scored a hoop first shot. She’d miss it by a mile and totally embarrass herself. She hadn’t played in years—to land baskets you needed to practise. She had no hope of relying on muscle memory now.
‘Perhaps it would be best if we reschedule this meeting,’ she ducked it.
The smile tugged harder on one corner of his mouth.
‘You might want to take a shower now,’ she added coldly.
His brows lifted then. ‘You really don’t like sweat?’ He laughed as he looked over her pale blue suit. ‘No. You wouldn’t, would you?’
She went silent—refusing to rise to that one. Truth was, she was feeling utterly human right now and starting to sweat herself just from looking at him. Cara hadn’t mentioned that her boss was completely gorgeous.
She looked at the graffiti again, eyes narrowed as she tried to work out one of the letters in that word.
‘Damn kids.’ He’d followed the direction of her gaze.
‘It could be worse,’ she said. Not wanting to find anything to agree on with him.
‘You think?’
‘Yeah, it could just be a tag—you know, initials, a name or something. But that’s actually quite a cool picture.’
He coughed. It started as a clear-your-throat kind of cough, but rapidly turned into a hacking one that sounded as if he were in danger of losing a lung. Anyone else and she’d ask if he was okay. But she wasn’t going anywhere nearer the personal with him. As it was they’d crossed some polite lines already and she was finding it way too unsettling.
‘It must have taken a while.’ She commented more on the graffiti just to cover the moment until he breathed freely at last. There actually was a lot of depth to the design. It couldn’t possibly be a three-minute spray and run number. ‘But it’s bad to do it to someone else’s property.’