blue crystal.
‘Fine.’ She busied herself in collecting the wool jacket and her handbag, hoping her bustle hid her agitation. She had forgotten what a startlingly deep blue his eyes were; if it were anyone else but Kingsley Ward she would have suspected they were wearing cosmetic contact lenses.
‘I hope you had nothing pressing this afternoon? I would like to visit the site after lunch. The architect will be there and it would be good for you to meet him.’
‘Of course.’ Rosalie thought of her work schedule and prayed for calm. ‘I’m all yours.’
The carved lips twitched. ‘How generous.’
It was, actually. She had already visited the site twice and didn’t really need to meet the architect today, Rosalie thought aggressively. There would be time enough for that once the tenders were returned, a builder selected and the work began. It would be her job to see the chosen builder kept to his prices, and she would be visiting the site frequently to value the work done for interim payments.
‘Shall we?’ He had taken her arm and whisked her out of the office before she had time to reflect further, and it was with dark amusement that Rosalie noticed Jenny’s expression of envy. If her secretary had but known it she would have swopped places with her for the lunchtime like a shot!
Carr and Partners was situated in a row of terraced houses, and once out on the pavement Kingsley led the way to a nifty little silver sports car that would have done credit to James Bond. Rosalie was eternally grateful to her guardian angel that she’d decided to wear trousers that day; the car’s low interior was not conducive to entering and exiting in anything else. As it was she slid into the leather interior with more than a measure of aplomb. This faded somewhat when Kingsley climbed into the driver’s seat. He was close, very close, and he smelt nothing short of delicious.
Rosalie hit her traitorous libido a sharp crack on the knuckles and swallowed deeply a few times. Her voice higher pitched than usual, she said, ‘Is it far? Where we’re eating?’
Damn it, but she was like a cat on a hot tin roof. Was it him or was she like this with the whole male race? ‘No, not far,’ he said easily as he pulled out into the traffic, the car’s engine growling softly. ‘A friend of mine owns a little place near Finsbury Park where I often eat when I’m in London. Unless there’s somewhere else you’d prefer?’ He glanced at her.
She shook her head, making the silky swirl of hair move and shimmer. Kingsley felt his loins tighten in response and turned his head, concentrating on the traffic.
After a few tense moments during which Rosalie registered every single movement he made and the car’s interior seemed to shrink still more, she said carefully, ‘I’m really excited about this job, and I never did thank you for looking me up after the dinner party. Who mentioned I was a quantity surveyor, anyway?’
He executed a manoeuvre that was totally illegal, receiving a few kindly gestures from passing motorists in the process, before he said, ‘What? Oh, I don’t remember. Is it important?’
He turned to look behind him as he changed lanes and Rosalie glanced at the back of his head where his hair had been tapered into his neck. It was so sexy it wasn’t true. As the big body turned again her head shot to the front. She felt like a voyeur, for goodness’ sake, she admitted to herself crossly, willing each taut muscle to slowly relax. But she hadn’t expected to be cocooned in an inch-square box with him, that was the thing.
Kingsley was clearly a man who didn’t go in for chatter when he was driving, and the short journey was accomplished in almost total silence. By the time they drew up outside a small neat restaurant Rosalie felt she’d got her act together, in spite of not quite being able to identify what it was about Kingsley Ward that threw her into such a spin.
True, he was silver-screen handsome with the added authority that came with wealth and influence, but he was also hard, ruthless and possessed of a giant ego, from all the background she’d gathered on him. Women galore had been enjoyed and discarded if half the stories about him were true, and Rosalie didn’t doubt that they were, looking at the man. And she loathed men like him, individuals who took and never gave, plundered and demanded what they wanted as though it were their God-given right. In fact they disgusted her.
‘Don’t you like it?’
‘What?’ She spun round in her seat as the quiet voice registered on her, becoming aware in that moment that her face must have reflected her thoughts as she gazed out unseeing at the building in front of them. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I was thinking of something else,’ Rosalie said quickly. ‘This looks very nice.’
‘Don’t let the nondescript appearance fool you,’ he said evenly as he cut the engine. ‘Glen isn’t into glitz and glamour, but he has the punters fighting a path to his door now word has got out about the food here.’
He exited the car in a smooth, controlled uncurling motion that Rosalie could but envy; she knew she was going to have far more trouble levering herself out of the low seat. As it was he had opened her door and extended a hand before she had to try, and once she was standing on the pavement she tried to ignore his towering height and the fact that she was all flustered again.
Kingsley opened the door of the restaurant for her and then waved her through in front of him, thinking as he did so, Nice bottom. In fact nice everything. She was one hell of a woman and yet there was something so fiercely defensive about her it screamed disastrous love affair. Who had let her down and had it been recently? Certainly Jamie and one or two other of her friends who had been at the dinner party claimed they knew nothing. He wasn’t sure if he believed them. Whatever, she intrigued him. She’d intrigued him that night, enough for him to follow through and arrange for her to get the quantity surveyor’s job, after he had checked her credentials, of course. Much as he liked the idea of being the hunter for a change, he wasn’t about to endanger what was a very tasty business opportunity because he wanted a woman who had made it clear she didn’t want him.
‘King! My friend, my friend.’
Rosalie hadn’t expected the said Glen to be foreign, somehow—Glen sounded too English for that—but the slim, wiry man who came rushing up as they entered was Italian or she’d eat her hat. He kissed Kingsley on both cheeks—something Kingsley had obviously been expecting and which didn’t phase him at all—before turning his attention to her, saying, ‘You have brought the most beautiful lady in London to grace my restaurant. How can I thank you, my friend?’
‘Cut the spiel, Glen,’ Kingsley said dryly, ‘it won’t work on this lady. And she’s a business colleague, before you get too carried away.’
‘So there is hope for me? Even better!’
The black eyes were wicked but full of laughter, and Rosalie found herself laughing back as she said, ‘If the food is as good as the welcome, no wonder you are so popular.’
‘Rosalie; Glen Lorena, the biggest sweet-talker this side of the ocean. Glen; Rosalie Milburn, my new quantity surveyor for the English job.’
‘This is true?’ The Latin face expressed surprise. ‘But you are too lovely to do such work. I cannot believe this.’
‘Believe it, buddy.’ Kingsley had noticed the dimming of Rosalie’s smile and took swift action, ushering her further into the restaurant as he said over his shoulder, ‘Usual table free?’
‘Of course, my friend, of course. The moment I received your reservation
