The Pretense

Chapter 8

She swore lightly and retreated to sit on the velour window seat and Matt found himself fascinated by the play of light on her thick, glossy hair.

“What did you say to him?” he prompted when she remained silent.

She scowled and he noticed that her face was slightly paler than usual. “Nothing yet. It was his parting volley.”

“A strategic tactic.”

She looked surprised that he would know such a thing and he didn’t like the fact that she still thought he had the IQ of an insect. “You can stop looking at me as if you’re surprised I can string a sentence together.”

“I am not,” she paused at his disbelieving look and had the grace to blush. “Anymore.”

He grinned at her honesty.

“Anyway,” she sighed. “I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it.”

“Why not?”

“Because his weapon of choice is to ask his current consultants to re-pitch for the job but if they had any good ideas, they would have already given them to him.”

“They might have something new up their sleeve.”

“Nothing as good as mine.”

Matt chuckled. He enjoyed her superior confidence and kick-ass attitude. It reminded him of himself when a rookie tried to come up against him on the circuit.

He noticed her eyes were focused on his mouth and when she raised them to his, a spark of red-hot awareness flashed between them.

Clearly not wanting to acknowledge it any more than he did, she turned to face the window.

Silence filled the room so loudly he could her the gentle ticking of the marble clock on the desk two feet away.

“Frank saw us at the beach this morning.”

Her voice was soft but he heard the disappointment edging her words.

Matt rolled his stiff neck on his shoulders and cussed under his breath. That man was dogging his every step and he was getting beyond irritated with him.

“Are you telling me or the seagulls outside?” he asked pleasantly.

Harper swiveled her head around, a frown marring her alabaster forehead. “I’m not in the mood for your ill-timed humor, Matteo.”

“What about my well-timed humor?”

She shook her head but a smile snuck across her face. “How is it you can make me smile even when this is deadly serious?”

“Deadly?”

She sighed. “It’s a metaphor.”

Matt sat forward and regarded her silently for a moment. “I know, I was just joking. Hey, relax. At least he no longer thinks we’re faking it.”

Her smile disappeared. “He’s right about the fact that I should behave in a more professional manner with you.”

Matt snorted. “Let me guess, he told you no touching?”

“He told me to keep my private life private – and he’s right.”

“Of course he did,” Matt drawled, half-admiring the man’s nous. He wanted Harper for himself and he was trying to drive a wedge between them to get her.

Not that he could blame him. He’d realized this morning on the beach that Harper was one of those women who had no idea of her true appeal to men and given similar circumstance, he might have done the same as Carter. Then again, he had yet to want a woman enough to actually fight for her.