Page 26 of Arrogant Heir

‘Sorry, I didn’t hear the door. I was in the shower,’ she calls.

As I approach, I see she’s wearing a Rochester fluffy white hotel robe and slippers, with her hair scooped up in a towel, turban style. Her eyes pull up at the sides slightly under the pressure of the towel and her porcelain skin is bright and clean, with a smattering of freckles on her nose. Wisps of red hair escape the turban and frame her face. She peers up at me—so tiny without her heels—and her caramel eyes betray her embarrassment and her cheeks flush.

My cockstirs and I instantly grow hard in what’s become a predictable response when she’s around.

She points to her attire and laughs self-deprecatingly. ‘As you can see, I’m running late! I’m so sorry. Did you not see my text?’

‘I did, but I was already at your door. It’s not like you to be late, so I thought I’d come and check on you.’

A look of surprise crosses her face. ‘That’s sweet of you,’ she says.

I squirm.Sweet.That’s not what I typically aim for in my dealings with women, especially the smouldering hot variety.

‘Well, that’s a first,’ I say, making light of it. ‘I’m not sure I’ve been accused of being sweet since I was about ten years old.’

She nods and turns her head to the side as she assesses me. Her precarious turban-towel unravels and her damp red hair tumbles over her shoulders.

‘You’ll catch a cold. You’d better go inside. I’ll head back to my office and wait for you there.’

I notice her looking at me, puzzled.

‘Don’t tell me you’re speechless, for once?’

She laughs. ‘You’re right, it doesn’t happen often, but yes, I suppose I am. You’re the last person I expected to see at my door. I thought it would be Alice checking the plumber fixed the shower. That’s why I’m running late.’

‘Ah, I see. Will you be joining me soon or are you planning on keeping me waiting much longer?’ I can’t resist scolding her, but my tone is teasing.

‘Just need to get dressed and I’ll be there as soon as possible. Or would you like to come in and wait?’

I should know better. Idoknow better. But the words escape my lips before I can stop them. ‘Yes, why not? I haven’t been in this old place for years. Let’s see what they’ve done with it.’

I follow her in, and the door clicks behind me. The cottage is small compared to my rooms and we’re in the lounge. ‘Is that where you weave your writing magic?’ I ask, pointing to the table, which looks like she uses it as a desk.

She nods and offers me a drink. ‘Tea, coffee, orange juice?’ Her words tail off as I stare at her. I think she’s suddenly aware we’re alone with just a robe between us. The tension in the air is palpable, and she pulls the belt tighter in a nervous gesture.

It crosses my mind how easy it would be to come onto her. I wonder what she’d do. Is she attracted to me, or does she still see me as some kind of sex-mad lothario, fucking women all across the country?

‘Orange juice would be nice,’ I say, meeting her eyes.

She hurries into the kitchen and then hands me a glass.

‘Make yourself at home, and I’ll be ready in five,’ she says. Then she laughs. ‘You own this place and I’m talking as though you’re my guest. I must admit, I’ve grown so used to being here in such a short time. It feels like home.’

Her face lights up as she talks, and I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s mesmerising, and I panic. I drink the juice in one, placing the empty glass on the counter and then I bolt for the door. ‘Second thoughts, I need to make a quick call. Come over when you’re ready. See you then,’ I say, and I’m gone before she can reply.

Outside, I tear along the path, taking huge strides and not looking back. What an idiot. She must see through me and know I ache for her. I had to get away before I did something stupid. Even if she wasn’t our writer, she’s engaged. What the hell was I thinking, turning up at her door like a lost, lovesick puppy?

I shake my head and berate myself all the way back to my office. By the time she arrives, I’m sitting at my desk, acting as if nothing strange happened.

If I fool myself into believing I have no feelings for her, perhaps I’ll fool her too…

CHAPTER19

Jamie

He’s driving me mad. When he came to the cottage, I saw desire burning in his eyes. He wanted me. I know he did. But then he bolted like a nervous stallion. I wonder what it would be like to be with him. Then I think of the family and what they’d make of it if they find out I’m lusting after Damian. It’s just too embarrassing, and I must get a grip on my feelings.

One of the reasons I suggested interviewing other family members is to put some distance between us. I’m obsessing about him and when I lay my head on the pillow at night, it’s his face I see. But it’s ridiculous. I’m supposed to be with Simon, not with the heir to the Rochester dynasty! That’s not my destiny. I’m just a regular girl, and not cut out to be with a billionaire. Not that he’s offered me anything, or even asked me out. It’s all in my head, I tell myself for the hundredth time. The way he looks at me with those mossy green eyes, and the way he falls quiet when I talk, and listens to every word.

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