gestured her to fall into step with him. Relieved they were getting down to proper business, Serena moved forward, traversing the foyer to the living room with a determinedly confident walk, though feeling oddly small and all too vulnerable with her head only level to his big broad shoulders. She wasn’t petite. In fact, she was above average height for a woman. It was just that he was very tall. And strong. And terribly macho looking, which was probably due to his Italian heritage.
Nevertheless, her heart was racing.
She was acutely conscious of being alone in this house with this man, not that she believed he would really come onto her but that initial bit of flirting had been deeply unsettling, making her aware that he found her attractive. Maybe even desirable.
While that was very flattering—and ironic, since he’d criticised Lyall for choosing her as his mate for marriage—Serena wished Nic Moretti wasn’t quite so sexually desirable himself. He was much more of a hunk than Lyall, whose luxurious lifestyle and lavish romancing had seduced her into thinking herself in love with him. Which, she realised now, wasn’t the same as being hot for him.
Every nerve in her body jangled alarm as Nic cupped her elbow to steer her towards what she had assumed this morning was the bedroom wing. ‘Where are we going?’ she demanded suspiciously.
‘To view the damage so you’ll understand what I’m dealing with,’ he answered reasonably.
‘Okay. Damage,’ she agreed unhitching her elbow from his grasp.
He cocked an eyebrow at the somewhat graceless action. ‘Do you have a thing about personal space?’
‘Only when it’s invaded without my giving a green light.’
‘I’ll remember that,’ he said with a quirky little smile. ‘If you’re still nervous about that button…’
‘I am not nervous!’ she hotly denied, barely stopping herself from looking down to check that it was still fastened.
Cleo yapped again, apparently keeping a barometer on her temperature level.
‘Fine!’ Nic said with too much satisfaction for Serena’s comfort. ‘I’d much prefer you to feel relaxed.’
They were now walking down a wide curved corridor. On its south side, floor length windows gave a view of fern-filled courtyards. Closed doors along the other wall obviously led to bedrooms with their windows facing north, getting all-day sunshine and the spectacular vista of shoreline and sea.
‘Where’s the damage?’ Serena asked, totally unable to relax her inner tension.
Nic pointed ahead to the door at the end of the corridor. ‘That leads to the master bedroom suite. The first night I was here alone with Cleo, she barked continually outside that door. I showed her no one was in the suite, then took her back to her trampoline. It didn’t stop her. She returned and…see for yourself…attacked the door, scratching to get in.’
‘I take it Mr. and Mrs. Gifford allowed her to sleep on their bed.’
‘Yes, but I thought with them gone…’ He sighed. ‘In the end, I let her in and left her there.’
‘Problem solved?’
He grimaced. ‘It only worked the first night. The second night she attacked my door. See?’
Scratches on the second door.
‘She wanted to sleep with someone,’ Serena interpreted.
‘I am not having a dog in bed with me,’ Nic growled.
‘She’s only little.’ It was more a tease than an argument, the words popping out of Serena’s mouth before she could think better of them.
The comment earned a blistering glare. ‘Do you ever reach a climax?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I can’t imagine how your boyfriend manages to get you to a sufficient level of excitement if you have a dog interfering all the time.’
‘I don’t have a boyfriend,’ she flared at him.
‘Not surprising if you insist on sleeping with a third party.’
‘I don’t have a dog, either!’
‘So why load me with one in my bed?’
‘You told me your girlfriend was gone,’ Serena hurled back at him, getting very hot under the collar, so hot her tongue made the unwise move of fanning the flames. ‘I didn’t know you had another third party waiting in the wings.’
His eyes sizzled back at her, lifting the heat to furnace level. ‘Sometimes unexpected things happen,’ he drawled. ‘Have we now established that neither you nor I want a dog in bed with us?’
‘There is no…us,’ Serena hissed, completely losing her head.
‘Of course there is. Here we are together…’
‘In consultation!’
‘Absolutely! And very interesting it is, too.’
‘So let’s get back to Cleo,’ she shot out, desperate to get both their minds off bed. ‘After she barked and scratched at this door, what did you do?’
‘Got up, watched television, fell asleep on the chaise longue in the living room.’
‘Then let’s go back to the living room.’
She swung on her heel and did some fast power-walking out of the bedroom wing which was far too sensitive a place to be with a man who oozed sexual invitation.
‘So, the second night you spent out here on…’ Her gaze swung around and fastened on the only piece of furniture that remotely resembled a chaise longue. ‘Do you mean that spiky blue thing?’
It looked like more of an instrument of torture than a place to sleep. A round stainless steel base with a central cylinder supported a curved lounger shape covered with dozens of protruding blue cones which certainly looked too sharp to lie on comfortably.
Nic grinned. ‘It’s a fantastic design. The cones are made of a specially developed flexible rubber foam. They wrap around your body and let you submerge into them. And they’re temperature sensitive, reacting to your body heat, sinking down to cushion and support anyone’s individual shape.’
Serena shook her head in amazement.
‘Try it for yourself,’ Nic urged, waving her forward as he moved forward himself.
Curiosity drew her to the savage looking piece of furniture. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ she remarked, still with a sense of disbelief in its comfort.
‘It’s a prototype. Not on the market yet. It’s currently being displayed in international furniture shows,’ Nic explained. ‘Ward, Angelina’s husband, likes to showcase the latest designs. He supplies to interior decorators.’
Конец
