then stopped the tape. He was truly amazing. He dictated as if he were actually reading something—no pauses to think, no changing his mind. She rewound the tape and started from the beginning.
She had barely finished the letters when the phone rang. When it rang a second time without Bryce making an appearance from his bedroom, she quickly grabbed it before it could ring a third time.
“Hello…yes, and who…uh, please hold a moment.”
She knocked softly at his bedroom door, her senses still numbed by the identity of the caller—the French ambassador himself, in person rather than his secretary. When she received no response to her knock, she called out to him. “Mr. Lexington…uh, Bryce?”
His voice came from behind the closed door. “Don’t stand out in the hall, Bradford. Come on in.”
She cautiously opened his bedroom door, not at all sure what she would find. He was turning out to be one surprise after another. Bryce sat on an exercise cycle, pedaling away while reading a book.
“A phone call for you. It’s the French ambassador.”
He wore only a pair of jogging shorts. His entire body, from his broad shoulders down to the bottom of his long legs, was taut and muscular without being muscle-bound and every bit of exposed skin was as tanned as his face. He obviously spent a great deal of time in the sun.
Paige experienced the same jolt of sensual desire as when they’d first met. Not only was he the most incredibly handsome man she had ever seen, he was an ideal specimen of the perfect male physique. A wave of heated desire swept through her body making it feel as if the temperature in the room had jumped at least twenty degrees. She quickly brought her gaze back to Bryce’s face for fear that she might be tempted to mentally remove his jogging shorts.
His expression brightened at the mention of the phone call. He put down his book, then climbed off the exercise cycle. He grabbed a towel and wiped the glistening sheen of perspiration from his face and neck. Without a word to Paige, he picked up the phone extension in his bedroom. A dazzling smile spread across his face. “Andre, mon ami.” His entire conversation was in French.
Paige spoke some French, enough to get by, but certainly nothing compared to what she heard coming from Bryce. He spoke rapidly, too rapidly for her to catch all of what he was saying. There was something about having just arrived a few hours ago and an agreement to be somewhere the following evening, then he hung up.
“I hope you brought something formal, Bradford. We’re going to a reception at the French embassy tomorrow night.”
She stared at him, her eyes wide in amazement. “We’re what?”
“You’ve got to learn to pay closer attention.”
“I heard what you said, I just don’t believe what I’m hearing. It never occurred to me to pack anything that formal.” She made no attempt to hide her irritation, but did try to curb her anger. “You didn’t mention anything about me needing something for this kind of event. In fact, you gave no hint of any kind as to what I—”
“You’re right. My fault.”
“You barely gave me time to pack—” She stopped in midsentence as the full realization of what he said finally hit her. “What?”
He spoke quietly, his words surrounded by a soft sincerity. “I said you were right. It was my fault. I should have been more specific with my instructions.”
Had she heard him correctly? He had readily accepted blame and was that a conciliatory note of apology in his voice? That was most certainly out of character for him, or at least her preconceived notion of who and what he was. What type of underhanded maneuver was he trying to perpetrate? That was the second time he had done something completely out of character. Paige had him neatly categorized and did not like it when he did something contrary to that mold. Well, he still didn’t fool her. Two isolated incidents were hardly enough to change her opinion. Bryce was a ruthless business shark who could not be trusted.
“We’ll go shopping first thing in the morning to get you something appropriate. Now—” he changed topics without warning, indicating that the discussion about clothes was finished “—how are you coming with my dictation?”
She marveled at the speed with which he moved from one topic to another. Before she could get an answer out, she saw the look in his eyes shift from the current situation to something far removed. He slung the towel around his neck, grabbing the ends where they hung across his chest. He creased his forehead in concentration for a moment as he stared at her, or more accurately, he seemed to be staring through her to some unknown spot.
“Tell me, Bradford, do you know how to snow ski?”
“Dictation? Snow ski? Which question do you want answered first?” She tried to put some sense to the way his mind jumped from one thing to another, but it was quickly becoming a formidable task.
“Both of them.” He said it as a simple statement of fact, as if he thought it should have been obvious.
She took a calming breath in an effort to combat her rising frustration with what appeared to her to be the disjointed way he jumped from one thing to another without warning. “All the letters and memos have been transcribed and are in the computer. I haven’t done the reports or speech yet. Yes, I know how to snow ski.”
He offered her a dazzling smile, as if the previous few minutes of tension and the earlier cross words had never happened. “Good. I have business in Aspen at the end of next week. There’s still some good spring skiing conditions.”
He absently tugged on the ends of the towel, first one end then the other, causing it to slide back and forth across his nape as he stared at the floor deep in concentration. Suddenly he yanked off the towel and tossed it into a basket in the corner. “Transcribe everything except the speech. Hold off on that until tomorrow. I want to give it some more thought. I’m going to take a shower, then we’ll get something to eat.”
As abruptly as it had all started, their conversation was finished. He went to the bathroom across the hall and closed the door. A few moments later she heard the shower running. Paige could not stop the slight smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. In spite of his abrupt manner, she had to admit that he was the most fascinating and baffling man she had ever come across. She closed her eyes and pictured his tanned body under the spray of the shower. A jolt of desire swept through her.
What was even more amazing was that he did not seem to have any pretensions about who he was, right down to not seeming to realize just how attractive he was. He sported the trappings of a very busy man and Eileen had warned her about him being a workaholic, but he did not exhibit any ego problems.
What had she gotten herself into? A formal reception the next evening at the French embassy in London and then skiing in Aspen the following week and all as part of her job. Most people would kill to have a job like that, but for her it was only a temporary situation. A means to an end. A little twinge jabbed at her consciousness. She could not clearly identify it. Perhaps it was regret, maybe even guilt. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She did not want any errant emotions dissuading her from the course she had set.
She finished the reports, then listened to the first part of the speech. She turned off the cassette player and leaned back in her chair. The speech, like the letters and memos, was dictated straight through without pauses. It was an excellent speech, articulate and entertaining while still making the necessary points. She
