Page 9 of Resisting Mr Black

I can almost see the cogs turning in his brain as he surveys the room.Probably realising the value of the property,I think cynically.

“Which is your favourite room?”

The question throws me slightly. “Why does it matter?”

He’s watching me carefully. “I’m curious. If you were to get married here, which room would you pick?”

I glance towards the closed double doors of the Summer Room. “The Summer Room, I guess. It’s light and airy and overlooks the gardens.”

He nods once, seemingly satisfied with my answer. “Where is this Summer Room?”

“It’s through those double doors, but we can’t go in—there’s a wedding meal taking place in there as we speak.”

His brows pull into a frown, and he glares at the closed doors as if he isn’t having any of it. He’s definitely not used to being told no. “I own the place. I can take a look.”

I find myself hurrying after him, swearing under my breath. Before I can stop him, his hand is already on one of the brass doorknobs, and he’s turning it.

I reluctantly follow him in, sliding through the door and positioning myself at the back of the room to his left. The meal is in full flow and the hum of chatter and theclatter of cutlery against china plates fills the air. I can’t help but observe the stares and double-takes he receives from the female guests.He must get this all the time,I tell myself.

“You’re right, this is a great room,” he agrees and for the first time he sounds genuinely impressed.

I’m about to provide him with a little more history about the room when the hairs on my arms stand to attention as he moves closer. He’s standing so close now his body is actually touching mine. I can feel his chest pressing against my arm, sending a twinge shooting between my thighs. My breathing becomes irregular and I think I’m actually panting as his left hip nudges into my right arse cheek and I feel his chinos against the back of my calf. He’s warm and firm all over and I can’t help the sigh that escapes my lips. I feel warm breath tickle my right ear and the hairs on the back of my neck prickle as I sense his mouth is tantalisingly close and I briefly close my eyes.

I know it’s inappropriate. God knows what I’d think if Olly did this. It makes me uncomfortable, the way I already feel like he’s making me want him.

“We should go,” his deep, rich voice is a mere whisper and I open my eyes. I realise with a stab of alarm that at this moment I’d probably do whatever he suggested.

He steps backwards and the moment is gone and I follow him out of the room, watching his beautiful behind slide through the doorway. I take a deep breath to try and still the flurry of excitement in my stomach.

I keep my eyes straight ahead as I leave the room and I overtake him, walking through the bar area and into reception.

“So, that’s the tour over,” I say sharply. This guy needs to get in his car and go because I need time to get my head around all this. “I need to get back to my day job, now.”

He follows me slowly into the reception hall, casting glances about the place, as if he’s got all the time in the world. “Show me out front, please.”

“Out front? But you’ve seen out front?”

He cocks an eyebrow at the challenge. “Show me out front.” It’s not a request. It’s a demand. I glance at the desk to see Lucy watching us wide-eyed, her eyes darting between me and Art as if she’s watching a tennis match.

He’s being unreasonable. I heave an impatient sigh to let him know he’s pissing me off and walk out of the front door.

Thankfully, the sun has moved round to the west side of the building so it isn’t as hot outside on the cream gravel as it would have been earlier in the day. I meander over to the left and spy his Aston Martin parked on the far side of the driveway. It looks as flash as I suspected and is as immaculately presented as its owner.

“The front of the hotel,” I say in as arsey a tone as I can muster. “Which you’ve already seen.”

He stands beside me and seems oblivious to my pissed-off tone. Either that or he’s ignoring it. He slides a packet of Marlboro Gold cigarettes from his back pocket, peeling back the white cardboard lid. He pulls out a cigarette between his thumb and index finger, pushes it in the left-hand corner of his mouth, and then offers me the packet.

Aha! Finally. A flaw.

I scrunch up my face in disgust and shake my head. Theo used to smoke twenty Benson & Hedges a day. The smell of cigarette smoke can take me back there sometimes. I fold my arms and suppress a shudder at the memory. “No thanks. I can’t stand them.”

He looks at me thoughtfully for a moment then plucks the cigarette from between his lips and slides it back into the packet. “I’ve been meaning to give up.” He closes the packet and slides it back into his back pocket.

What the hell does that mean?

“Shouldn’t you be the image of healthy living, given that you own a chain of gyms?” I say, unable to help myself with the dig.

He turns his body to face mine and the light from the clear blue sky above makes his brown eyes glow. “They’re a vice.” His gaze slides from my eyes to my neck, allthe way down to my feet and a wall of heat hits my body as I stand pinned beneath his captivating stare. “What are yours?”

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