The Right Side of Mr Wrong

Double jeopardy.

Definitely a bad call. He felt his blood surge south. Damn. He was in for an uncomfortable evening all round.

‘If you don’t mind, I think I’ll just go and get something warmer … ’ She’d gone before he had time to reply, and when she returned she had added a sharp tailored jacket. Marks out of ten for passion killers? He’d give an eleven. At least that sorted the immediate too-exciting nipple problem.

‘Desperate times call for desperate measures, and all that!’ She flashed violet eyes at him, and something in their mocking glint told Brando she was ahead of his game. ‘Sorry about the style clash, but I haven’t brought my arctic gear with me. I’d have taken the time to put jeans on, but we wouldn’t want dinner to get cold, would we?’

Back in the room, and looking like someone from a head office boardroom, complete with an identity name-tag hanging from her lapel.

‘You really haven’t brought anything warmer with you?’ He watched in disbelief as she shook her head. What kind of numbskull would rock up to a draughty hole like Edgerton without so much as a sweater?

‘Nope. Sorry. I’m a central heating girl, and I wasn’t expecting glacial, so you’re stuck with me in my O 4 Organise work gear.’

‘I’ll go and find you something more … ’ He left the room before bothering to finish.

Suitable, hot, sexy? Warm maybe?

Any of the above – he wasn’t fussy. Sure, he didn’t want her here, and yes, he did suspect her motives, but hell, he wasn’t completely heartless. He’d meant for her to understand that country houses weren’t always luxurious, not for her to catch pneumonia. As for what the whole O-4 thing was all about, he was still praying she wasn’t some high powered dominatrix when he came back moments later, and dropped two cashmere sweaters in her lap.

‘There you go, Madame Chairman, they’re mine, but they’re warmer than anything else you’ve got here. Put them on, and tell me what the heck O 4 Organise is.’ He watched intently as she peeled away her jacket, and pulled on his own jumpers. How could she look so sexy wearing two men’s sweaters?

‘Thanks, that’s much better.’ She was rolling the sleeves back now, pushing dislodged pins back into her hair. ‘O 4 Organise is the exclusive personal organising company I work for. I run the Manchester end. I thought I was going to be able to put my expertise to good use here, but to be honest it all looks a lot less chaotic than the shots I saw on the programme.’

He had a vague memory of the TV crew deliberately trashing the annexe to get the shots they needed, when views of endless rooms under dust sheets had failed to excite them.

‘Never believe what you see on TV.’ He spat the words out with a rueful shake of his head.

‘But Bryony said … ’

He jumped in and cut her short. ‘Rule One when dealing with Bryony: Never believe what she says.’ Then he kicked himself for not waiting to hear exactly what Bryony had said. No doubt it would make for interesting listening, and he may well have asked, but just then, Mrs McCaul arrived with dinner.

Brando dug into the steaming beef stew and dumplings with gusto, hoping to mask his unease. He usually ate on the hoof, snatching a sandwich in the office, or grabbing a takeaway in front of the TV. Formal meals didn’t figure on his agenda, and he never ate with women. Strawberries and liquid chocolate consumed from a platter of bare flesh aside, if he was with a woman it was for sex, not food. So the double assault on his system, of Mrs McCaul’s substantial supper and a hot woman eating opposite him, was throwing him off. Between forkfuls he tried to decide if Shea was mentally undressing him with those scathing looks of hers, or simply trying to peer into his soul.

It was some time, and a lot of stew later, when she finally struck up meaningful conversation. ‘So where in Scotland are we exactly?’

Brando gave her a hard stare. ‘Who told you Edgerton was in Scotland?’

‘I’m not sure, didn’t it say that on the programme?’ She hesitated, her fork halfway to that delectable mouth of hers.

‘There you go, what did I say about not believing everything you hear on TV?’ He gave a snort of laughter. ‘To be fair, they did keep the location a secret, but I’m damned sure no-one said anything about Scotland. The only Scottish thing about here is Mrs McCaul and her full-on Edinburgh accent!’

‘Okay … ’ He watched Shea’s eyes widen, then her brows furrowed as she processed this nugget. ‘So where are we then?’

‘Classified information here, I hope you can be trusted. Edgerton is in the Cotswolds.’ He bit back his smile as he tried to contain his laughter.

‘Sorry. Not helpful.’ She shook her head and looked blank. ‘You’ll have to be more specific. Cotswolds doesn’t mean anything to me. Where’s it near?’

This he found hard to believe. Had to be a wind-up, but he’d play along. ‘Cirencester, Cheltenham, Gloucester?’ She still looked blank. He’d try something easier. ‘Oxford?’

She thought hard, scrunched her lip, shook her head. ‘Still not helpful. Maybe if I saw it on a map?’

Brando stopped chewing, put down his knife and fork. This he found hard to believe.

‘What?’ Shea’s shriek was high and defensive. ‘So! I don’t have the geography gene! I can’t help it! I don’t know where anywhere is, unless I’ve been there, if I don’t see it on a map. We can’t all be perfect and know everything. I don’t have the history gene either come to that, but there are a lot of things I can do, and do very well, so back off!’

So Shea-what-do-you-say might have a great ass, but she didn’t have the first clue where she was, and what’s more she wasn’t trying to hide the fact, nor did she feel the need to apologise. Interesting combination. And boy did she look feisty when she did angry!

She lowered her eyes for a second, and when she looked up at him again it was with a half smile that spread to a wide grin. ‘When you warned me about getting lost in the house earlier, you were closer to the mark than you thought!’

Zap!

That smile caught him off guard, and smacked him square in the stomach.

‘I think we’ve done enough dining room penance for one day. I’ll get Mrs McCaul to serve pudding by the fire in my sitting room, and I’ll show you a map. We’ll be much cosier there.’

Jeez, had he really just said that!

He asked himself a) where that had come from and b) why the heck he’d used the word cosy. He never saidcosy! It was like someone else was operating his mouth. Jeez again! He needed to stop panicking, remember this was his infallible instinct, working to push the situation to a quick conclusion. Hell, a frosty dining room was hardly conducive to the moves he had in mind, and he was aiming to get this whole thing over at break-neck speed. And there was something else he’d noticed. Sure this Shea was sexy enough, with her curves and lively nipples and splashy smiles, but he’d seen the way she flinched when he came anywhere near her, and he’d sensed a curious pent-up tension. Uptight didn’t begin to cover it. A quick tumble in the sack with a man with his taste for wild and wicked was just what was needed to send this woman running for the hills. See her off for good. Job done.

A sudden crush in his groin suggested his libido was in definite agreement.

* * *

Peach cobbler, egg custard, coffee and liqueurs. All in the comfort of the boss’s private sitting room. Cosy was his way of describing it. Too damned intimate was hers.

Shea wondered how she’d let it happen, which part of her active mind hadn’t been functioning. She could only blame the cold for her brain freeze.

Pudding in the snug would have been beyond the limit of her professional boundaries at the best of times. But peering over maps in flickering firelight, with a hunk who set her heart banging horribly every time his arm stretched across and grazed hers? That was in the way-out-of line category. Just the memory of it was enough to make her cringe with guilt. Thank goodness she’d had the sense to make a quick exit.

Back in the safe haven of her room, she stripped off her dress, dragged some shorts over her tights, and slipped one of the borrowed sweaters over her bra, definitely not because it smelled of raw man she assured herself, but because after an hour of wearing it, she was completely addicted to the softness and the warmth. As she pulled the pins out of her hair and dragged her curls into submission, she noticed her useless mobile on the coffee table. A phone call with her mum wasn’t going to happen tonight. No bad thing. She needed time to work out what the heck was going on here.

It wasn’t so much what she’d been doing, but how she was reacting. It should have been completely possible to have got through this evening in a detached, professional manner. Her work constantly put her into intimate environments with men. She regularly marched in, pulled some guy’s bedroom to pieces, put it all together again, and marched right on out. She’d always assumed her ability to freeze advances before they’d even happened was because of her past hanging around her like an invisible force field. That coupled with her ‘no-nonsense’ attitude. She’d worked alongside a whole bunch of clients with less than perfect reputations and had always sailed through unscathed.

Until now.

Which was why she knew the fault here was completely her own.

She’d never been remotely attracted to anyone she’d worked for before, and she’d worked for some very attractive men. But there was a world of difference between recognising that someone was hot, and the full-blown force of attraction itself. And right here it was full-blown force. And she needed to get a grip. Quickly.

Brando Marshall might be good looking, but in every other aspect he was a total nightmare – bad tempered, rude, arrogant, treating his long-term employees with very little respect, and he obviously despised her … Quite a list. Any attraction to him was wrong, wrong, wrong, not to mention crazy. Lucky she’d got a handle on it from the start. Now all she had to do was stamp it out. Starting now.

A sudden rap on her door jolted her to her feet, and set her heart pounding.

‘Shea, your mother’s on the landline for you!’ Brando’s voice rose gruffly over his knock, and sent her stomach into a cartwheel. ‘Take it in my sitting room, or my office if you prefer.’

Damn.

She hadn’t thought her mum would ring tonight, or that she’d be back in the lion’s den so soon, putting her new resolve to the test.