Red-Hot Affairs. Lucy King

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      She was in the middle of a particularly lovely daydream in which she was picking up a RIBA European award for her work on the palace when she heard the squeaking of the gate.

      Her heart jumped. Her ears pricked. And caught another squeak. Swiftly followed by a sharp intake of breath and a muttered curse.

      Her pulse racing, Laura jackknifed up. Grabbed the sides of her overalls and clutched them to her chest. She twisted round. And nearly passed out.

      Matt was standing just inside the gate, frozen to the spot, staring down at her, his face set, but his eyes blazing.

      Laura swallowed and felt a raging blush hit her cheeks. Too late to hope that he hadn’t seen her semi-naked. OK, so she was at least wearing her bra, which was something to be thankful for, but the muscle hammering in his jaw and the tension in his body told her that he’d seen more than enough.

      ‘You scared the life out of me,’ she snapped, aiming for control by channelling her mortification into accusation.

      ‘Next time I’ll knock,’ he said hoarsely, turning away so she could get her clothes in order.

      ‘At least this time I’m not in danger of banging my head,’ she muttered as she thrust her arms into the sleeves and whipped up the zip. Just passing out with overheating. Matt creeping up on her had better not become a habit.

      Springing to her feet, Laura gave herself a quick shake and forced herself to calm down. ‘You can turn round now,’ she said lightly. ‘I’m decent.’

      More than decent, actually. Her nipples might be annoyingly as hard as pebbles, but the shapelessness of her overalls revealed nothing of the way her body responded to him, thank goodness.

      Now all she had to do was sidle off, bury herself in work and find somewhere else to have lunch because, judging by the hamper hanging from his hand and banging against his knees, Matt had decided to appropriate this spot and frankly, with thousands of other heavenly spots in the grounds of the palace it wasn’t really worth arguing over.

      ‘Right. Well. I’ll—er—leave you to it.’

      ‘Don’t go.’ Matt flashed her a smile and her stomach flipped. Awareness whizzed through the entire length of her as, unable to help herself, she ran her gaze over every gorgeous inch of him, from the top of his thick dark hair right the way down, past the T-shirt and jeans down to the flip-flops.

      She paused and blinked, not sure she’d heard him correctly. ‘What?’

      ‘My being here isn’t exactly a coincidence.’

      Laura frowned. ‘Did you want something?’

      ‘I came to see if you’d like some lunch.’ He strode towards her and set the hamper beside the table.

      ‘I’ve already had it.’

      ‘Have some more.’

      ‘I’m not hungry.’

      ‘Fine, you can keep me company while I have lunch,’ he said, folding himself into the chair on the other side of the table and waving that she do the same.

      Hmm. ‘I need to get back to work.’

      ‘Later.’ He gave her a quick smile. ‘Indulge me.’

      Her stomach swooped. ‘Do I have any option?’

      ‘Not a lot,’ he said, his eyes glinting with amusement and turning her head inside out. ‘According to the records, disobeying the king used to result being thrown in the dungeon.’

      ‘Charming.’

      ‘Not in the least,’ he said cheerfully. ‘It’s damp and crawling with vermin. You wouldn’t like it.’

      Probably not. Although she was pretty sure it would be less uncomfortable than having lunch with Matt when her common sense had gone AWOL. ‘Wow,’ she said, arching an eyebrow and crossing her arms. ‘Absolute power and blackmail. That’s quite a combination.’

      ‘I like to think so.’

      Laura tilted her head. ‘I thought I was supposed to be staying out of your way.’

      He glanced at her for a second and then grinned. ‘That was one of the things I wanted to chat about.’

      Now he wanted to chat? She narrowed her eyes. ‘Don’t you have better things to do? Like a country to run?’

      ‘Even kings need to eat. And I thought we could get round to some of that small talk you mentioned.’

      The small talk they’d been too busy getting horizontal and naked to bother with …

      Laura’s insides tangled into a mass of longing and frustration. Why was she always on the back foot with this man? What was it about him that had her feeling totally at sea? And more importantly why hadn’t the two weeks she’d spent staying out of his way done anything to reduce the effect he had on her?

      She nibbled on her lip. Maybe small talk was the way forward. If she could get him to reveal a bit about himself, maybe he’d turn out to be hideously arrogant, irritatingly patronising and possibly insanely boring. If she was really lucky, he’d also expose a couple of nasty habits. Like interrupting her. Or dismissing her opinions as if batting away a fly. As her ex had had a tendency to do. Hah. That would certainly put her off.

      Laura sat down and gave him a cool smile. ‘What would you like to talk about?’

      Matt leaned down and took a bottle and a couple of glasses out of the hamper. ‘It’s occurred to me that the apologies I owe you are beginning to stack up.’

      Oh. Damn. Not that hideously arrogant, then. She lifted a shoulder. ‘Are they?’

      He pulled the cork out, filled the glasses and slid one across the table to her. ‘First of all, I never apologised for jumping to the conclusion you were a journalist.’

      He’d made up for it in other ways, Laura thought, drawing the glass towards her, and then wished she hadn’t as her cheeks went red.

      ‘And then when you turned up here, I overreacted.’

      She took a sip of wine and felt the alcohol slide into her stomach. ‘Why?’

      Matt frowned. ‘I’m not sure.’

      Hah. As if. She’d never met anyone less unsure of themselves. ‘Let me guess,’ she said with a flash of perception. ‘You thought I was here to see you.’ He stiffened and she felt a jolt of triumph. ‘And I bet you thought the worst.’

      ‘Possibly.’

      ‘You really ought to do something about that suspicious nature of yours.’

      ‘Perhaps.’

      ‘Have lots of people crawled out of the woodwork now that you’re king?’

      His face tightened. ‘Some.’

      ‘Well, СКАЧАТЬ