“Course not. You haven’t got anything incriminating in your bag, have you?”
“Just my dignity.”
I wink at him. “I’ll hang it nicely, so the creases drop out,” I say reassuringly, and he gives his loud laugh that never fails to make me smile. It’s lusty and full of so much humour that it makes you laugh yourself.
“Minx,” he offers and wanders into the bathroom. The door shuts behind him, and I hear the shower start. My mouth immediately goes as dry as the Sahara Desert at the thought that he’s naked right now. Water will be cascading over his tight, muscled body.
I saw him once after a run when he’d stripped off his top and tied it around his waist. His chest had been wide and hairy, with abs I wished I could lick. I’d walked into a bench and had to pretend that a seagull had chased me. It had been a believable story because the seagulls in Cornwall will trot up and take the food out of your mouth if you’re not careful. Last week one had casually walked into the Co-op and got itself a sandwich off the shelf.
I realise that I’m just sitting on the bed staring at a closed door when I should be consulting my manual. I reach down anddig the book from my bag. Opening it at my bookmark, I quickly scan the text. I immediately want to roll my eyes.
Fiona is turning out to be a bit of a wuss. She hangs around Jared’s office fluttering her eyelashes at him so much it’s a wonder he hasn’t been blown away in the breeze. She also long-sufferingly accepts his endless girlfriends using her like a skivvy. And she sighs. Alot. It’s a constant surprise that the woman has any air left in her body.
I left her sighing in Jared’s office while she took dictation. Jared strikes a pose at the window while she admires his profile. Now I do roll my eyes. Why aren’t there details about his bum? I doubt Jared’s bum could hold a candle to Harry’s. I read on. Fiona gets an eyelash stuck in her eye, and Jared has to stand very close to her as he removes it. This process takes so long that I surmise her lashes are longer than a lasso rope.
I snort and then a thought occurs to me. It’s very wicked and is solely inspired by this book that was apparently written by Satan.
Do I have the nerve? I lick my lips as I weigh up the possible outcome.
The bathroom door opens, and Harry appears with steam billowing around him like a particularly brilliant porn film I watched once. And my morals fly away like the Wicked Witch of the West’s flying monkeys.
“All yours,” he says just as I mutter, “Ouch,” and hold my hand up to my eye.
“What’s the matter?” He strides immediately to my side and cups my face in his big hands. His grip is firm, his eyes gentle. “Have you hurt yourself?”
“I have an eyelash stuck,” I mutter.
I wonder if I’ll go to hell for this. I mentally shrug. I always did like warmer climates.
He tilts my head back, his fingers warm and damp on my face. His shower gel smells of coconut and innocence from the wiles of Mills and Boon books. I should have bathed in a vat of it.
“Let me see,” he says. He’s decisive in a way that never fails to rev my engine. He manages to be both gentle and commanding, as if my welfare is his most important priority. My cock stirs, and all I can see are his eyes. The green is dark now—almost like a forest at night.
“See what?” I whisper.
He frowns. “The eyelash?”
“Oh. Yes, the…erm…eyelash.” I lick my lips. He’s so close, his scent weaving around me and his body hard and warm. “I think it might have gone.”
“Are you sure?”
“About what?” I ask breathily.
“I need to look at your eye,” he whispers. He’s leaning closer, his breaths coming faster, and my eyes slide closed as I clutch his arms, his skin like hot silk beneath my fingers.
“Harry,” I say breathily.
The knock on the door is like a clap of thunder, and we jump apart. My heart is hammering, and I swallow hard.
Harry gazes at the door as though he’s never seen one before. His chest is rising and falling rapidly as he pushes his hand through his hair.
I groan under my breath at the bulge beneath the towel. He gazes at me with wide eyes.
“Harry?” His mum’s voice breaks the spell.
“Yes.” He clears his throat and tries again. “What is it, Ma?”
“There’s been a bit of an emergency, darling. Your dad and I have to go out, and I don’t know how long we’ll be.”
