for him—was responsible for it being broken in the first place?
‘Of course,’ Mac answered the workman distractedly. ‘If you’ll excuse me, Bob?’
‘No problem,’ he assured her brightly.
Mac was so annoyed at Jonas’s high-handedness that she didn’t quite know what to do with all the anger bubbling inside her. What did he think he was doing, interfering in this way, when she had already told him that she had arranged for a glazier to come out tomorrow?
An arrangement he had instantly expressed his disapproval of. Enough to have arranged for one of his own workmen to come out and replace the window immediately, apparently! Were Jonas’s actions prompted by a guilty conscience? Or by something else? Although quite what that something else could be Mac had no idea. It was enough, surely, that Jonas was sticking his arrogant nose into her business?
Too right it was!
‘What can I do for you this time, Mac?’ Jonas took his briefcase out of the car before locking it and turning to face her wearily across the private and brightly lid underground car park beneath his apartment building.
He had been vaguely aware, as he drove home at the end of what had been a damned awful day, of the black motorbike following in the traffic behind him. He simply hadn’t realised that Mac was the driver of that motorbike until she followed him down into the car park, stopped the vehicle behind his car and removed the black crash helmet to shake the long length of her ebony-dark hair loose about her shoulders. The black biking leathers she was wearing fitted her as snugly as a glove, and clearly outlined the fullness of her breasts and her slender waist and hips. Jonas couldn’t help thinking of how they were no doubt moulded to her perfectly shaped bottom, too!
But there was no way that Jonas could mistake the obviously hostile demeanour on her face for anything other than what it was as she climbed off the motorbike; her eyes were sparkling with challenge, the fullness of her lips compressed and unsmiling.
Jonas’s afternoon had been just as uncomfortable as he had thought it might be. So much so that he hadn’t been able to give his usual concentration to his business meetings.
What was it about this woman in particular that so disturbed him? Mac was beautiful, yes, but in a wild and Bohemian sort of way that had never appealed to him before. There was absolutely nothing about her that usually attracted him to a woman. She was short and dark-haired, boyishly slender apart from the fullness of her breasts, and not in the least sophisticated; she even rode a motorbike, for heaven’s sake!
Jonas wasn’t particularly into motorbikes, but even he recognised the machine as being a Harley, the chassis a shiny black, its silver chrome gleaming brightly. For what had to be the dozenth time, Jonas told himself that Mac McGuire was most definitely not his type.
So why the hell couldn’t he stop thinking about her?
His eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t you think—whatever your reason for being here—that following me home is taking things to an extreme?’
Her mouth tightened further at the criticism. ‘Maybe.’
He raised mocking brows. ‘Only maybe?’
‘Yes,’ she admitted grudgingly.
He eyed her coldly. ‘And so you’re here because…?’
She glared at him. ‘You sent a glazier to repair my window.’
‘Yes.’
Her eyes widened. ‘You aren’t even going to attempt to deny it?’
Jonas grimaced. ‘Presumably Bob told you I had sent him?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then what would be the point of my trying to deny it?’ he reasoned impatiently.
Mac was feeling a little foolish now that she was actually face to face with Jonas. Anger had been her primary emotion, as she waited the twenty minutes or so it had taken Bob Jenkins to replace the window, before donning her leathers and getting her motorcycle out of the garage and riding it over to Jonas’s office. Just in time to see Jonas driving out of the office underground car park in his dark green sports car.
Frustrated anger had made her decide to follow him home; having ridden back into the city for the sole purpose of speaking to him, Mac had had no intention of just turning round and going home without doing exactly that.
At least, she had hoped Jonas was driving home; it would be a little embarrassing for Mac to have followed him to a date with another woman!
The prestigious apartment building above this underground car park—so unlike her own rambling warehouse-conversion home—definitely looked like the sort of place Jonas would choose to live.
She stubbornly stood her ground. ‘I told you I had a glazier coming out tomorrow.’
Jonas nodded tersely. ‘And I seem to recall telling you that wasn’t good enough.’
Her eyes widened. ‘So you just arranged for one of your own workmen to come over this afternoon instead? Without even giving me the courtesy of telling me about it?’
Jonas could see that Mac was clearly running out of steam, her accusing tone certainly lacking some of its earlier anger. He regarded her mockingly. ‘So it would seem.’
‘I—but—you can’t just take over my life in this way, Jonas!’
He frowned. ‘You see ensuring your safety as an attempt to take over your life?’
‘Yes! Well…not exactly,’ she allowed impatiently. ‘But it was certainly an arrogant thing to do!’
Yes, she was definitely running out of steam…‘But I am arrogant, Mac.’
‘It’s not something you should be in the least proud of!’
He gave her an unapologetic, smile. ‘Your objection is duly noted.’
‘And dismissed!’
Jonas gave a shrug. ‘I presume Bob has now replaced the broken window?’
Mac gave a disgusted snort. ‘He wouldn’t dare do anything else when “the boss” told him to do so “toot sweet”.’
Jonas had to smile at her perfect mimicry of Bob’s broad Cockney accent. ‘Well, unless you want me to break the window again just so that you can have the satisfaction of having your own glazier fix it tomorrow, I don’t really see what you want me to do about it.’
Those smoky-grey eyes narrowed. ‘You think you’re so clever, don’t you?’
Jonas straightened. ‘No, Mac, I think what I did was the most sensible course of action in the circumstances,’ he stated calmly. ‘If you disagree with that, then that’s obviously your prerogative.’
‘I disagree with the way you went about it, not with the fact that you did it,’ she continued in obvious frustration.
He gave a cool nod. ‘Again, your objection is duly noted.’
‘Right.
