moistened her dry lips. ‘Of course.’ She sat down in his chair and set her fingers on the keyboard. ‘What’s the name of the file?’
He leaned forward and she got a delicious whiff of sandalwood cologne. ‘If I knew that, intern, I’d already have it done, wouldn’t I?’
‘Oh, well, yes...’ When she realised how close he was behind her Poppy’s voice trailed off, her lips drying up again faster than a trickle of water in the Mojave Desert.
‘It’ll be something to do with Castiglione Europa, or CE for short,’ he growled.
Ignoring the butterflies in her stomach Poppy scanned the folders on the screen and didn’t see anything related to either of those. Then her eyes fell on an interesting one.
‘Are you getting married?’ she queried, peeking up at him.
‘No.’ He scowled. ‘Why would you ask that?’
‘No reason. Except Paula’s got a file called “Operation Marriage” but that’s probably got to do with the bet and not what you’re looking for.’
‘The what?’
Poppy told herself to shut up but knew by his thunderous expression that she was going to have to explain herself. ‘The bet,’ she said in an upbeat manner. ‘Even I’ve heard that your grandfather is encouraging you to settle down—and, well... some of the legal department have dubbed it “Operation Marriage”.’
His gaze turned flinty. ‘I see the office grapevine is alive and well, then. Why have I not heard it?’
‘Well, because the gossip is about you—obviously. But don’t worry. Nobody thinks you’ll do it.’
‘Good to know my staff know me well at least.’
Poppy shrugged, relieved that he didn’t seem annoyed by her revelation. ‘I take it by your reaction you can’t imagine anything worse than marriage?’
‘Death.’
Poppy’s smile grew at his grim tone. ‘Right. But I think it’s kind of sweet, actually. Your grandfather wanting you to find love.’
‘I’m glad you think so.’ He leaned over her. ‘Click on the folder. Now open that file.’ He pointed at the screen and Poppy had to force herself to focus on his instructions and not his steely arm brushing the outside of hers. ‘There. Send that report to print.’ He straightened away from the chair and cursed again.
Poppy glanced up to find him yanking his tie open again.
‘I do know how to tie a tie,’ she murmured.
His gaze told her he’d rather set his hair on fire than have her help him again.
‘Fine.’ His hands dropped to his sides and the two ends of the tie dangled down his lean body like twin arrows signalling paradise. ‘I’m all yours.’
Sure that her face must look as hot as it felt Poppy reminded herself of the last man she had found attractive, and how that had ended for her and her brother.
Fortified by that particularly humiliating memory, she gripped the tie and reached up, doing her best to ignore the dark stubble that lined his hard jaw. He was tall, well over six feet, and she had to rise onto her toes to position the knot in the centre of his throat. This close, she could feel his heat, and smell his potently male scent. It made her want to lean in and nuzzle against him, to breath it in more deeply.
Not that she would. She wasn’t a fool.
She noticed his tanned throat working as her fingers grazed his skin and she steadfastly refused to look at his face. ‘What kind of knot do you want?’ she asked, her voice husky and unlike the way it usually sounded.
‘What kind of knots can you do?’ His seemed deeper too, rougher.
‘All of them.’
‘All of them?’
Braving a quick glance upwards, she found that his eyes were heavy lidded as they met hers.
‘Just how many are there?’ he asked.
‘Eighteen that I know of.’
‘Eighteen.’ His eyes glittered down into hers. ‘Can you name them?’
‘Yes. Do you want me to?’
‘No.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘You’ve obviously done this before. Lucky guy.’
‘Mannequin.’ She adjusted the length of the tie and created a loop. ‘I dressed in-store mannequins part-time during high school.’
His lips twisted into a small smirk. ‘Lucky in-store mannequins.’
Poppy’s hand flattened against his chest as the tie slipped. She could feel his heart beating heavy and strong beneath his breastbone... Was that a shudder that just went through his big body?
All of a sudden she felt surrounded by his warmth, his deliciously male smell, and she had to swallow hard before speaking. ‘So, which one do you want?’ she asked thickly.
‘Just do a Windsor knot.’ The words seemed to rumble out of his chest.
‘That’s the one most men prefer,’ she said.
‘Are you calling me common, Miss Connolly?’
‘No.’ Poppy tugged a length of the tie through another loop, her heart beating twice as fast as usual. ‘It’s just that it’s the largest, and most men who wear neckties like to have a large knot.’
‘Most women probably like them to have a large knot as well.’ His voice was deep, his chest rising and falling evenly beneath her suddenly clumsy fingers. ‘Wouldn’t you agree?’
Deciding not to take this conversation any further for fear that he might actually be flirting with her, and it was the last thing she wanted, she concentrated on finishing the knot. ‘I wouldn’t know, Mr Castiglione. I don’t date men who wear ties.’ In fact she didn’t date period.
‘No?’
‘No.’
‘Then what do they wear?’
‘Nothing. That is they...’ Blushing furiously she folded his collar into place. ‘There. All done.’
‘A word of advice, Miss Connolly,’ he began, waiting for her to look up at him before continuing. ‘If you do happen to get a job here, don’t ever hand me a call without first finding out who it is.’
Remembering how upset the woman on the end of the phone had been, Poppy pursed her lips. ‘Not even if the person is crying?’
‘Especially if the person is crying.’
Shaking her head Poppy wondered if he was really as ruthless and heartless as he was reputed to be. Of their own accord her eyes drifted to his mouth. His lips were firm and chiselled without seeming
