handsome face and penetrative eyes.
‘You like working at Franklin?’
She had until recently. But her thoughts were interrupted by the harsh beep of Rory’s cell phone. With an apologetic look he answered, yes-ing and no-ing for a few minutes. Flipping it shut, he looked at her with a twinkle in his eye that she was unable to interpret.
‘That was James. They’re held up in the meeting and want to rearrange.’
‘Oh, OK.’ Lissa knew more time alone with Rory couldn’t be allowed. ‘I should get on home.’
He gestured to her three-quarters-full glass and his own barely touched wine.
‘Can’t go wasting company money, Lissa. At least stay and finish your drink.’
It would be churlish not to, but danger signals beat strongly within her. She picked up the glass and had a long swig.
He chuckled. ‘Do I make you that nervous?’
‘Of course not.’ She was more nervous of herself and her own silly weakness. She couldn’t let herself be such a fool a second time, but the attraction to him threatened to overwhelm her.
‘The indecision in your eyes just about kills me, Lissa.’
She looked down immediately. His soft-spoken bluntness slipped under her defences again. She bolted them down. He was direct at work as well. But was he honest? Or was it all just a line practised time and time again to perfection? Flash the green eyes, flatter the lady and raise curiosity to breaking-point. It would be so easy.
‘I really should get home.’
‘Should you?’
‘Yes.’ Definitely.
‘Why don’t we get something to eat before you do that?’
She couldn’t stop the sly smile. ‘Nice try, Rory.’
‘What?’ He put up his hands, all mock innocence. Smiling, he lowered his voice. ‘We will reschedule, Lissa.’ The serious note struck a chord within her and she knew he wasn’t referring to team-building.
Declining his offer of a ride home, she escaped the bar and his breathtaking presence. Never one to miss the opportunity of seeing a few landmarks on the way, she took a bus. She only had weeks left to enjoy the sights. But as she sat in the window seat her eyes were unfocussed, and she was so intent on her own thoughts she missed her stop.
She had thought Grant was honest. Older, only by ten years, but infinitely more experienced. He’d known exactly how to pursue her in a way that didn’t scare her off. He’d given her the works; attention, flowers, the romance she’d never experienced, never seen her mother enjoy, only knew of from the movies. That should have told her it had all been an act. She’d thought she loved him, that he’d loved her. That she was going to get the happy-ever-after her mother had missed out on.
Then she’d found out about Melissa. His fiancée. The sordid truth had become humiliatingly obvious. He’d never taken her to his apartment, had encouraged her to keep quiet about their relationship with other workers because he hadn’t wanted any hint of favouritism, they’d never gone out—he’d come over to her place instead, cooking for her, flattering her and all the while just using her.
Immediately she’d ended it. Or tried to. Only he’d turned nasty. He’d made her work a living hell—denigrating her in front of colleagues, giving her all the dogsbody jobs instead of the work she was trained for and, occasionally, he had still tried to touch her.
She could have taken a harassment case against him, but she’d felt too bruised already, ashamed by the knowing looks of her co-workers, the mortification of being the ‘other woman’—albeit innocently. What a fool.
So she’d packed her bags.
Now she’d met Rory. She knew nothing about him either except, in a matter of only hours and days, he’d breached her defences. She wanted him, plain and simple. Wanted to run her hands over his body, wanted to feel him hard against her, entwined with her. But she couldn’t risk ruining another job on her CV. The only way she could think to prevent it was to freeze him out. Retreat behind a frosty veneer, not look at him, not talk to him, only when necessary for work.
Chapter Three
BY WEDNESDAY afternoon Lissa knew her plan was flawed. Rory’s constant physical presence got on her nerves. For hours she held her body taut with awareness of his only a couple of feet away. When she looked up and away from her computer screen to rest her eyes, she couldn’t help but glance at him. Invariably, she would find him watching her or he would look up as she watched him. She would look quickly away, biting on her lip. When that happened for about the fortieth time that day she was so mad with her weakness she rose to make an escape to the bathroom for two minutes. Just to get away from him, to stare in the mirror and remind herself exactly why she shouldn’t be letting her lust for this guy affect her work. No distractions.
Walking back down the corridor on her way back, she was startled as her arm was wrenched and she was practically hauled into a meeting room two down from theirs. The door shut after her. She whirled round staring at Rory who now stood in front of the door, blocking her exit, his arms folded across his chest.
‘What are you doing?’ she whispered, struggling to regain her equilibrium. His nearness made it difficult for her to breathe, let alone concentrate on work. The tension between them crackled. The stance accentuated the breadth of his shoulders and she felt herself soften in response to his forceful masculinity. Her breathing became shallow and she tried desperately to stay focussed on the job. Think computer passwords, think phone numbers, think of anything but how sexy he looks. Suddenly his lips twisted and he laughed a little. It made it worse.
‘Lissa, look, so we can’t be lovers, I get that and I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, but can’t we at least be friends?’
She looked at him with a sceptical frown. ‘Do you really think that’s possible?’ When there was this much sexual chemistry simmering away barely below the surface, it felt as if it would take nothing for it to envelop and swamp them.
He looked across at her, his sensuous lips pressed together in a teasing half-smile. ‘Oh, I think it’s possible. I’m not going to have you on the desk at the first opportunity. I think I can keep my baser urges under control.’ He lowered his voice and challenged, ‘Why—can’t you?’
She stared back at him in silence, her mind wanting to answer but her body having fixated on the idea of having him on the desk, the idea of having him full stop. She could picture him above her, easing her onto the hard wood, papers swishing to the floor. She caught her lip with her teeth and bit down, wanting the pressure to ease the pulsing. What she really wanted was another kiss.
His eyes narrowed as he regarded her. He stepped closer. Frustrated, she tore her eyes from his and looked down. He stepped still closer and took her chin with his fingers and tilted her face back up to his. ‘Can’t you?’ he asked again, his voice rough. His fingers slid along the side of her jaw and down to her neck; his thumb gently rubbed over her lips, forcing her to free the lower one from her teeth. He rubbed his thumb back over, soothing it. It did nothing to stop the throbbing.
Their gazes locked again. She fought the urge to open her mouth and suck his thumb in. Appalled with herself, she
