Page 8 of Resisting Mr Black

The three of us are the only ones left in the office.

He’s got to be kidding. He’s just told us that he can’t confirm whether we’ll all have jobs soon, and now he expects me to be all nice and polite.

George’s eyes dart to me and widen in surprise. “Oh, of course...”

“I can’t.” I cut him off mid-sentence. “We’ve a wedding and I need to be downstairs with the guests.”

“George can oversee things,” he retorts, his eyes fixed on my face.

He’s not giving up without a fight.

“It’s where I should be.” I meet his gaze straight on. I’m feeling brave.

“I insist.”

George gulps audibly, his eyes jumping from Art to me. “I’ll go and keep an eye on things, Sophie. No problem at all.” He smooths a hand down the front of his tie. “And if you need anything at all, Art, please let me know.”

“Of course,” he replies, not taking his eyes from my face.

I watch George hurry out of the office and almost want to shout “No, come back”. I don’t want to be on my own with this man because he turns me into a nervous ball of sexual energy and I don’t know how to act around him.

He puts his hands in his pockets, pushes himself off the desk and walks straight up to me, standing as close as he can without physically touching me. My throat tightens and my breathing labours at the sudden proximity. He’s so close I can smell him. There’s a scent of mint and a subtle hint of sandalwood. Not aftershave, it’s too delicate—an expensive body wash perhaps.

He towers over me. In heels, I come level with his shoulders, so in flats I’d feel completely dwarfed by his presence. Despite his size, obvious raw strength, and the fact I barely know him, I don’t feel intimidated. His eyes are locked on mine and I realise that they’re flecked with gold and are a mesmerising sight to behold. His full lips are parted slightly and as his gaze lowers to my mouth, my stomach begins to churn. He could so easily kiss me. And if he did, I’d be a goner. He’s beautiful. The sort of guy I’d expect to see on the cover ofVogueor in aDolce and Gabbanaaftershave commercial. And this is entirely inappropriate. He’s my boss. I’m determined not to show him how nervous he makes me feel.

“This tour,” I begin confidently, but as soon as I begin I realise my mouth has dried and the words stick in the back of my throat. I run my tongue over my dry lips and there’s a flash of something in his gaze as he hones in on the small action. “Where would you like to start?”

His striking eyes slowly travel up my face and come to a stop on my forehead. “I’d like to start right at the top.” They slide down my face and my heart misses a few beats, I’m sure of it. “And then go all the way down,” he carries on, his dark gaze roaming south over my throat, my collarbone, my breasts, my ribcage, my waist. Myskin puckers as he carries on and I feel a quiver between my thighs. “To the very bottom.”

His gaze returns to my face and his right eyebrow arches, his perfect lips pull into a half smile. He knows the effect he’s having on me and my cheeks flush at the thought. Alarm bells ring very loudly in the back of my head. Any guy who exudes this much machismo is bad news. He’s beautiful and dangerous. I need to step away.

Snap out of it, Soph.

I pull at the slim belt of my dress and straighten up, determined to pull the conversation back onto a professional footing. “There’s nothing much to show you on the top floor. Shall we?” And without waiting for a response I spin round on my heel and hurry out of the room.

I hear the thud of his heavy footsteps coming down the stairs close behind me.

“Would you like to be shown the second and first floors?” I pause on the landing outside the door to the second floor. “There are only bedrooms on these floors.” I’m hoping he will say no but I have a feeling he won’t.

“I’d very much like for you to show me the bedrooms.” There’s a glint in his eyes which I choose to ignore.

I prevent myself from dwelling on it any further by pushing open the door and walking along the corridor, dodging round the laundry carts outside the rooms being cleaned.

“On this floor, we have the Superior Rooms and Suites which are our premium rooms. I can’t show you inside as I don’t have a pass key. George would have been a far better tour guide as he has access to all areas,” I say pointedly, not looking back to see whether he’s keeping up. I’m certain those long legs of his won’t let him down. I need this to be over with as quickly as possible, so I can go back to my actual job. As I arrive at the end of the corridor, I draw to a halt and finally decide to chance a glance over my shoulder.

He’s a few yards back, watching me, his hands still pushed into his pockets as he swaggers up to where I’m stood.

“I don’t mean to rush you, but I’ve a job to do,” I say curtly.

He tilts his head slightly to the right and a smile flickers on his face. “I was admiring your dress.”

I’ve never been flirted with by a guy this attractive before. I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing. He’s got me on the back foot again. I can’t allow myself to be drawn in. He’s bad news, I can just feel it. And I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime.

I conduct the tour of the first floor in the same whistle-stop fashion and come down the side staircase into the bar.

It’s empty, the wedding party are in the Summer Room enjoying their meal, so I lead him through into the Orangery and catch him sizing up the place again.

“This is a favourite room for weddings along with the Summer Room—these tend to be the most popular choice for ceremonies.”

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