The Pretense

Chapter 8

Matt was sitting on the bed when the door opened. Harper stood in the doorway like Medusa on a mission. He was on the phone to his sister Patrizia, who was doing her best not to talk about Sunday’s race and thereby placing it front and centre in both their minds.

Harper stepped into the room, her eyes sparking fire and brimstone in his direction.

Man, she was something else when she was riled – passionately alive – just like on the beach earlier. Not that he was thinking about that. He’d been honest when he’d told her it wasn’t part of his plan but watching her come apart underneath him had been possibly the most sensually arousing experience of his life and such it was damned hard to put out of his mind.

“Patti, sweetheart, I’ll ring you back.” Glad of the excuse to end the conversation early, he dumped his mobile on the quilt cover beside him, reminding himself that he was supposed to be keeping distance from Harper. “Bad day at the office, baby?”

She stalked across the room and dumped her computer bag and satchel on the small desk against the wall. Then she turned on him, hands on hips, her large aquamarine eyes shooting sparks.

Matt laughed back against the bank of pillows behind him. “Are you going to tell me what’s eating you? Or is this one of those times when a woman tries to make a man’s life truly miserable by making him play Twenty Questions?”

Her gaze narrowed. “You’ve got that wrong. Women do not make men’s lives miserable. People do that to each other.”

He stared at her and could see she was mentally wishing her words back. He wondered who had hurt her. It was obvious she didn’t like talking about herself. Something they both shared and that protective instinct she seemed to engender in him tightened his gut.

She drew in a breath as if preparing to go into battle but her words were resigned when she spoke. “It would have been nice if you’d told me that Callum was trying to recruit you to represent his Tru Sport stores.”

“Ah.” That was where he knew Callum Denver. Callum’s people had been hassling his publicist to get him to become Tru Sport’s public representative for about six months now.

“First–“ Harper’s brought his eyes back to her “–you don’t tell me that you’re the legendary lothario Matteo De Luca and nearly make a fool out of me. Now you neglect to tell me that my client wants your face and body for his online sports brand and succeed in making a fool out of me.”

“Harper–“

“Don’t Harper me,” she stalked towards him and stopped at the foot of the bed. “You’ve been having fun with me right from the start of this silly pretense and I’ve had enough. I am not here as your resident plaything and nor am I here to alleviate your boredom.”

Irritation blossomed inside him. “I never said you were. And might I remind you that this is your silly pretense and I’m actually trying to help you.”

“Some help when Callum all but told me the only way we would win his business is if you ‘quit stalling’ and give him what he wants.”

Matt rubbed his jaw. “That sneaky bastard.”

His response seemed to knock the wind from her sails because her shoulders slumped a little and her hands dropped from her hips.

“Quite.”

“I’m sorry, Harper. I didn’t deliberately withhold that information from you. I get over a hundred requests of a similar nature every week and my publicist handles that side of my business. Yesterday, when I met Callum, I was aware that I knew him from somewhere but assumed it was a race meet since he was such a fan.”