he’d thought. He’d definitely be having words with his secretary.
‘Nice dress.’ His voice sounded strangely hoarse and he cleared his throat.
‘Thank you. Nice suit.’
‘Thank you.’
She tilted her head back to take a sip of her champagne and Matt’s gaze dropped to her throat. Soft and creamy skin. Completely exposed. He curled his hands into fists deep in his pockets to stop himself reaching out, pulling her against him and setting his mouth to the pulse thumping at the base of her neck.
Then she lowered her glass and shot him a languid look and a smouldering smile that set his body on fire. ‘Are you all right, Matt?’
He pulled himself together. ‘Fine. Why?’
‘You look a little uncomfortable.’
‘Just a trifle warm.’
‘So why are you glowering? This is a party. You shouldn’t be glowering.’
‘It’s my party. I can do whatever I like.’
Her smile deepened. Turned faintly knowing, and Matt’s pulse hammered. Would anyone notice if he hauled her away somewhere private to continue the party alone?
‘Well, you must be busy,’ she said, her voice unusually husky. ‘Don’t let me keep you.’
‘You aren’t.’
‘Great speech.’
Had it been? He couldn’t remember. Her gaze shimmered at him with something he couldn’t identify but made desire pound through him.
Matt’s head swam. What on earth had got into her tonight? Where had this sultry hauteur sprung from? And what was he going to do about it?
‘This is a lovely room,’ she said, looking up and giving him another view of her throat.
‘I don’t want to talk about the room,’ he grated.
If she was surprised by his tone, she didn’t show it. In fact her eyes began to sparkle with something that looked suspiciously like triumph. Which only wound him up further. ‘Then what do you want to talk about?’
He didn’t want to talk at all. ‘Why did you dash off like that earlier?’ he said, drawing on the first thing that sprang to mind.
Laura lifted her shoulders and Matt had to force himself not to glance down. ‘Things to do.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Running away from me seems to be becoming a habit.’
‘Not at all. You simply reminded me of my place, that’s all.’
Matt frowned. What the hell did that mean? Her place was in his arms. Beneath him. On top of him. Whichever way, plastered against him was where she should be.
His jaw clenched as the desire pounding through him grew hotter, more insistent.
He’d had enough of this. Enough of the eyelash batting and the sultry little smiles. Enough of the hammering desire and tight tension keeping him awake all night and ruining his concentration all day. Enough of trying to resist her.
For whatever reason, Laura was in a dangerous mood tonight and, despite his best efforts to hang on to it, Matt’s control was slipping away like sand through an hourglass. He’d never felt such a need clawing at his gut. Never felt such desperation. Never had so little desire for conversation.
To hell with the entrepreneurs. He’d done plenty to ease their concerns. Now it was his turn.
Stepping forward, Matt took her elbow and pulled her against him.
‘What are you doing?’ Laura muttered, her breath catching.
‘We’re leaving,’ he said as the scent of her spun into his head and obliterated all rational thought.
‘We can’t.’
‘We can and we are.’
She glanced up at him, a tiny frown creasing her brow. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘Very.’
‘What is it?’
Out of the corner of his eye Matt caught the flash of movement, a glimpse of someone heading over to talk to him. Oh, no. No way. ‘Have you seen the Sala dell’Anticollegio yet?’ he said loudly, wheeling her off in the opposite direction and not giving her time to answer. ‘Incredible vaulted ceiling. Badly in need of some TLC.’ As was he.
So much for lofty hauteur, thought Laura, tottering alongside Matt in her three inch stilettos.
It had all been going so well. She’d been cool and collected and she’d been enjoying the party hugely. Well, as much as anyone burning up with longing could.
She’d felt Matt’s eyes on her the entire evening, making her heart thump with a weird kind of anticipation and her body tingle. How she’d managed to hold any kind of sensible conversation was a miracle. At one point she’d even let out a low groan and had had to quickly turn it into a cough, which had been mortifying.
But by and large she’d kept herself under control.
Until Matt had started to make his way over and her self-possession had begun to slip away like silk over skin.
The closer he’d got, the harder she’d found it to move. Her feet seemed to have taken root. She’d lost track of the conversation going on around her. All she’d been aware of was Matt heading towards her, his expression turning grimmer by the second as yet another person engaged him in conversation, until he’d finally stopped in front of her, vibrating with an electric kind of tension that had her entire body buzzing.
And all she’d been able to think was who exactly was meant to be shaking up whom?
He ushered her through the doors and across the hall. He opened the door opposite, practically pushed her in, followed her and then closed it behind him. At the sudden silence after the vibrant noise of the party the edginess winding through her tripled. Her heart hammered and a flutter of nerves clutched at her stomach.
‘Did you really bring me here to look at the ceiling?’ she said, her voice sounding thick and husky and totally unlike hers.
‘What do you think?’ Matt’s eyes glittered as he moved past her and switched on the table lamp. Soft golden light bathed the room and Laura glanced up.
‘I think it isn’t vaulted and doesn’t need any restoration.’
The glimmer of a smile played at his lips. ‘So I lied.’
‘Tut tut.’
Matt turned, shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at her until her bones began to melt. ‘You wanted to know what was wrong.’
Had she? When? Oh, yes. Just before the madness had taken over. ‘I did,’ she said, fervently hoping he
