Undone by His Touch. Annie West
He paused. ‘What else?’
‘Is this really necessary?’
‘Indulge me. Think of it as the job interview I never gave you.’
‘You’re saying my job’s in doubt?’ For the first time a hint of emotion coloured her voice. Panic?
He shook his head. ‘I’m not that unreasonable, just curious.’
He heard a huff of exasperation and then she was winding a bandage around his foot with deft movements that assured him she knew exactly what she was doing.
‘I’ve got light hair, light eyes and pale skin.’
‘Freckles?’ Why he bothered to tease when he couldn’t see her reaction he didn’t know. But despite her calm responses Declan felt her disapproval. It shimmered around him. Tired as he was of his own company and his limitations, even that was preferable to solitude.
How pathetic could he get? Taunting the woman because he was bored, bitter and defeated by the guilt that clung like a shadow.
‘Yes, as it happens. A few.’ Her voice dropped a little and he caught a husky edge as she snapped shut the first-aid kit.
Declan surged to his feet. ‘Thanks. Now, if you’ll just lead me to the edge of the pergola, I can find my way from there.’
Chloe stopped in the open doorway to the vast book-lined library. It had been updated with a state-of-the-art computer on the antique cedar desk and a phone that looked like it could hold conference calls to several countries simultaneously. Hand raised to knock, she paused at the sound of Declan Carstairs’ voice.
‘OK, David. There’s no help for it, you’ll just have to stay there. Don’t worry about it.’ Her employer thrust a hand back through his hair in a gesture of clear frustration. ‘No, don’t send one of the junior staff in the meantime. I don’t want anyone here gawping and …’ He hunched his shoulders. ‘Never mind.’
He turned and she caught his expression. His face was drawn with weariness. Lines etched the corners of his mouth and furrowed his brow. Then she caught a glimpse of his eyes and wondered with a jolt if it was tiredness or something akin to despair that shadowed his face.
The notion surprised her. He’d seemed so vibrant, so arrogantly in control just half an hour ago. Even as he’d been dependent on her to lead him and remove the glass from his foot, there’d been no question but that he’d been the one calling the shots, and not just because he paid her wages. The force of his personality made him dominate any situation.
‘No, I’ll just have to wait till you—’
He broke off and lifted his head as if scenting the air, his head swinging round inexorably to where she stood in the doorway.
Dark eyes fixed on her with an intensity that was unnerving.
Even knowing he couldn’t see her, Chloe had to resist the urge to straighten her neat skirt and blouse or lift a hand to ensure that flyaway curl hadn’t escaped again. Heat trickled through her veins and her skin flushed.
‘Call me later, David, and update me.’ He disconnected the call and stepped towards her, his eyes never wavering.
Was it an illusion that his gaze connected with hers? It had to be. Yet Chloe felt a strange breathlessness facing that hard, handsome face, as if he saw her with a clarity no-one else ever had.
‘Ms Daniels. How long have you been there?’ His voice dropped to a velvet-soft murmur that signalled danger.
How did he know she was there? She hadn’t made a sound. The hairs rose on the back of her neck at the idea he’d somehow sensed her presence.
‘Not long. I was about to knock but I didn’t want to interrupt your conversation.’
His mouth firmed and his nostrils flared as if with impatience. ‘In future make your presence known immediately. Given my … impairment, I like to know when I’m not alone.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Especially when I’m discussing business. I have a particularly delicate negotiation underway at the moment and I prefer to keep the details private. Understood?’
Chloe’s mouth pursed, holding in indignation. Did he think her a potential corporate spy?
‘Of course.’ Stung at his assumption she’d tried to eavesdrop, Chloe hastened to explain herself. ‘I came to find out if you’d like lunch soon.’
His mouth twisted. ‘What have you got planned for me? No, let me guess—coddled eggs and toast. Or soup. Soup is always good.’
Chloe frowned, her mind racing through the contents of the pantry and what she could make quickly from scratch.
‘If you like soup I could manage that.’
‘I don’t like,’ he growled, pacing towards her, close enough to block her view of the room and fill her senses with his presence. ‘I’m sick of bland food and being fussed over. The housekeeper the agency sent in your absence thought I needed cosseting to build my strength. If she’d had her way I’d have lived on omelettes and junket.’ He shook his head, lifting a hand to rub his stubbled chin.
Unwillingly Chloe’s eyes followed the movement, noting the hard, intriguing angle of his jaw and the line of his powerful throat. A faint citrus scent teased her nostrils and she wondered if he’d lathered himself with lemon soap in the shower. She swallowed. He hadn’t buttoned his shirt. It hung loose, revealing glimpses of taut golden skin and a smattering of dark hair.
Her breath stilled as she recalled him emerging from the pool: naked, wet and virile. Her mouth dried.
Horrified to find her gaze following a narrow line of dark hair to the top of his faded jeans, Chloe yanked her attention back to his face, her cheeks glowing.
Anyone less in need of building up she had yet to meet. He was all hard-muscled energy and husky, powerful lines. She’d never met a man so vibrantly alive. So confrontingly masculine. Her stomach gave a strange little shimmy just being close to him.
‘I hadn’t thought in terms of … building up your strength.’ Again her gaze strayed and she firmly yanked it back to his face.
Despite her embarrassment, amusement rose at the idea of trying to cosset this man like a child. The previous housekeeper must have had her work cut out trying to feed him invalid food. Had she really tried to serve him junket? Chloe wouldn’t have dared.
‘What was that?’ His brows arrowed down ferociously as if he’d heard the laugh she stifled.
‘Nothing, Mr Carstairs.’ She paused. ‘I’d planned chicken tikka-masala burgers with cucumber raita and lime pickle for lunch. But if that doesn’t suit …’
‘It suits perfectly. Suddenly I’m ravenous.’ For a moment the shadow of a grin hovered on his lips and Chloe had a shocking glimpse of how irresistible he must be in good humour.
If ever he was in good humour.
‘Clever too,’ he drawled. ‘Far easier for a blind man to handle.’
That observation, the little sting in the tail, robbed his earlier praise of warmth and left her deflated.
Was there anything wrong in trying to take his limitations into consideration? To realise it must be difficult chasing unseen food around a plate?
He made her consideration seem like condescension.
Her boss was frank to the point of rudeness, bad-tempered and graceless. He was nothing like his charmer of a brother.
A shiver whispered down her spine and she stiffened.
Chloe knew which brother she’d rather deal with. Declan Carstairs might be arrogant but …
‘I’ll have it ready in half an hour, then.’