It was quite possibly the most perfect chest she’d ever seen. Not that she was a connoisseur of men’s chests, but working around the shipyard, she’d caught accidental glimpses on rare occasions.
She might have been able to pull her gaze away if that had been all, but it wasn’t simply his chest. There were arms and shoulders to consider, perfectly moulded with muscle, to say nothing of his lean hips where his culottes hung tantalisingly low on his waist, revealing the secret aspects of male musculature and hinting at even more. All this masculinity had been pressed against her yesterday. It was somewhat shocking to see it on such bold display without the buffer of clothing to mute the reality. She was still gaping when he sauntered over, an adze dangling negligently from one hand, that impertinent grin of his on his face.
‘Good day, Miss Sutton. Is everything to your liking?’ He motioned towards the yard, the veneer of the gesture narrowly saving the comment from being outright indecent. She knew very well he’d caught her staring, and ‘liking’ hadn’t only referred to the yard. Elise looked around for the first time, trying hard to ignore the distraction beside her.
There were workers! There was the noise of industry. Not nearly as much as the yard was used to, but it was better than the silence that had marked the past months. ‘Where did you find them?’
Rowland shrugged, thrusting the adze through the rope belt holding up his culottes. ‘Here and there. It hardly matters as long as they know their job.’
In other words, don’t ask, Elise thought. She shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Men were here, willing to work on her boat and willing to take future payment. That should be enough. It was more than she’d had yesterday.
‘As you can see, all is well in hand. Is there anything else I can help you with, Miss Sutton?’ Rowland said briskly, impatience evidencing itself in the shift on his stance.
Elise bristled at his tone. He wanted her gone. ‘Are you dismissing me from my shipyard?’ His audacity knew no bounds.
Rowland lowered his voice and jerked his head to indicate the workers beyond them. ‘They’re starting to look, Miss Sutton. They’re wondering what a woman is doing here. You’re distracting them.’
Elise was incredulous. ‘I am distracting them? I’m not the one strutting around the yard half-dressed. You might as well be naked the way those trousers are hanging off your hips.’
‘You noticed? I’m flattered.’ Rowland, damn him, grinned and crossed his arms over his chest. ‘And here I was thinking you didn’t like me.’
‘I don’t like you,’ Elise said in a loud whisper. People were starting to look, but she would not take responsibility for that. She wasn’t the one dressed like…like him. No wonder society demanded a man wear so many layers over his shirt. No one would get anything done otherwise; they’d be too busy staring.
Rowland laughed. ‘Yes, you do, you just don’t know what to do about it.’ The man was insufferable.
‘I want to see what progress you’ve made.’ Elise tried to put the conversation back on a more professional level. It was just her luck her brother had found the best-looking shipbuilder in London. She’d come down here with the express purpose of overseeing the project. She wouldn’t leave until she’d done that, half-naked master builder or not.
Rowland had other ideas. He took her arm, drawing her complete attention to the strong tanned hand that cupped her elbow and steered her out of the yard. ‘If you want to watch,’ he drawled with a grin that made watching sound like a decadent fetish, ‘I suggest you adjourn to the office. You, Miss Sutton, are bad for business.’
Elise shot Rowland a hard look. She’d had enough of these games. ‘I am their business.’ The slightest shake of his head caused her to reassess.
‘These men answer to me, Princess. They’ll build your boat because I tell them to.’
Elise entrenched, ready for battle. She’d let such reasoning go yesterday. But it would not work twice. ‘Is that your mantra? I should accept your decrees simply because you’re building my yacht? Do you think that puts paid to any questions I have? This is my shipyard and everything that happens in it is definitely my concern.’
‘Upstairs, now,’ Dorian growled. It was all the warning she had before a firm hand gripped her arm and propelled her up the stairs to the office. The door slammed behind them. Dorian Rowland’s blue eyes blazed with a temper she’d not suspected. His grip on her arm tightened. ‘How long do you think these men will work if they think they’re working for you? You are the owner’s daughter and nothing more as far as they’re concerned.’
‘You lied to them!’ She saw all too clearly what he’d done. He’d set himself up as the boss, the chief. The man with all the power.
He raised a blond eyebrow in exaggerated query. ‘You are not the owner’s daughter? Did I misunderstand yesterday?’
‘No, but—’ She didn’t get to finish.
‘So you are the owner’s daughter. Good, then I’ve told no lies,’ he said as if this were the worst sin he had to worry about.
‘I’m more than someone’s curious daughter. Did you tell them that? Without me there’d be no project.’ Elise wrenched her arm free and stepped away. She needed space where her logic wouldn’t be distracted by more masculine charms.
‘Allow me to be blunt. With you, there will be no project if you don’t let me do this my way. I am trying to help you. You have nothing without me.’
He advanced and Elise fought a losing battle to retreat. Her back hit the wall. He leaned forwards, one arm bracing himself on the wall over her head. He seemed bigger at close range, not menacingly so, but overwhelmingly potent. Even the smell of him, fresh lumber and salty sweat, was all man—all nearly naked man. It was hard to forget that one thing with his bare chest mere inches from her. She’d like to forget it, though. Handsome men had proven to be her weakness in the past.
Elise tried to look anywhere but at him. She could see every intimate detail of his skin: the fine dusting of blond hair, the thin white scar beneath his right breast. Lord, it was hard to concentrate! Even her breathing seemed more erratic.
‘Have I made you nervous, Miss Sutton?’ He smiled. ‘I can’t help but notice the inordinate amount of time you’ve spent staring at my chest.’
Did she imagine it or did he puff that chest of his out intentionally just then?
Elise opened her mouth to respond and then shut it. Had she really just seen his breast jump? Flex? Whatever one wanted to call it. ‘Stop that!’
‘Stop what?’ Pop! There it went again. He was doing it on purpose.
‘That thing you’re doing with your chest!’
‘Oh, this? Flexing my muscles?’ He straightened up and treated her to a bawdy show of alternately flexing each side of his chest.
‘Yes, that.’
He laughed. ‘Do you know what your problem is, Princess? You don’t know how to have any fun.’
Elise crossed her arms over her chest to make a barrier of sorts between them. How dare he think she was a
