her cup and saucer on the desk. She didn't want to explain her mother to Blue or any other man. How could she? When her own feelings were a confused mixture of frustration and gratitude. "Let's get to work," she said, stepping briskly behind her desk and taking her chair.
Blue's eyes rested on her like weights.
She pushed a file aside and picked up a sheet of paper. "When I'm in London," she advised matter-of-factly. "I use Anderson's Executive Support services. You'll find them efficient. And I assume you'll require a computer and spreadsheet software. Tell me what you'd like, and I'll have it delivered this afternoon." She handed him the sheet of paper containing names and addresses. "Oh, and I'll be drawing up a short contract to confirm last night's discussion. I'd appreciate it if you'd sign and return it to me as quickly as possible. I would also—"
"A contract? For twenty-one days?"
"I want our agreement clearly understood this time. Putting it in writing will ensure that," she stated, hoping she sounded properly authoritative. She also hoped to gain back the upper hand, a hand she'd lost last night. Blue's shadow of a kiss had stayed with her far too long.
A grin played across his mouth. "It's a waste of trees, but if it's what you want..."
"It's what I want," she stated emphatically.
His grin widened. Infuriating man. She dropped her gaze to her desk and flicked a page on her large diary.
"As for today," she went on. "We have lunch with Sir Michael at twelve, a meeting with Richard Cranway, Gus Hallam's controller, at three, and an appointment with—"
"Whoa. Slow up there." Blue set his coffee cup down and leaned—make that loomed—over her desk. "Don't you think we should put first things first?"
With his face mere inches from hers, she couldn't avoid him without leaping like a frightened hare. That, she would not do, no matter what the provocation. She held her seat. "I don't know what you mean."
He touched her hair and smiled. "How about, good morning, Blue. How are you this morning? Did you sleep well or did you toss and turn all night thinking about me, like I did about you?"
Her mouth opened. How did he—
He went on. "I'm fine, Simone, but as for sleeping, I admit I got very little. It seems we were in the same boat when we should have been in the same bed."
She leaped—exactly like a frightened hare.
Blue took a step back. "As for your question about the computer, believe it or not, I have my own, and I'll skip lunch with Sir Michael what's-his-name—unless it has something to do with Hallam." He waited.
She shook a negative, too off balance to speak.
"Good. Then with what I managed to get out of your mother—"
"Josephine, call her Josephine," she mumbled.
He conceded with a nod. "Then with what I got out of her about Hallam Porcelain and the files you're going to give me, I'll get started. If it's all the same to you, I'll work in my room." He glanced around the organized, immaculate library. "I have a somewhat disruptive working style."
He gave her a bland look and held out his hand. After making a brief stop at the rise of his biceps, her gaze dropped to his open palm. She gave him what she knew was a vacant stare. He gave her a megawatt smile that hit her like a rogue wave.
"The files, Tiger. Give me the files, and I'll get out of your hair."
She drew in a breath and tore her attention from his mouth. So this was "his way," the arrogant —About to instruct him not to call her tiger, she clamped her mouth shut, deciding not to waste her words.
She yanked open the left-hand file drawer, grabbed a set of color-coordinated files, and slammed them into his open hand.
He glanced briefly at them. "Are there at least five years of financials here?"
"Yes."
"Audited?"
"No. They were prepared by a team of research monkeys at Cambridge. I thought they'd do."
He chuckled. "I'll start to work with these and touch base with you at—" he looked at his watch "—say, two? That will give
Blue's eyes rested on her like weights.
She pushed a file aside and picked up a sheet of paper. "When I'm in London," she advised matter-of-factly. "I use Anderson's Executive Support services. You'll find them efficient. And I assume you'll require a computer and spreadsheet software. Tell me what you'd like, and I'll have it delivered this afternoon." She handed him the sheet of paper containing names and addresses. "Oh, and I'll be drawing up a short contract to confirm last night's discussion. I'd appreciate it if you'd sign and return it to me as quickly as possible. I would also—"
"A contract? For twenty-one days?"
"I want our agreement clearly understood this time. Putting it in writing will ensure that," she stated, hoping she sounded properly authoritative. She also hoped to gain back the upper hand, a hand she'd lost last night. Blue's shadow of a kiss had stayed with her far too long.
A grin played across his mouth. "It's a waste of trees, but if it's what you want..."
"It's what I want," she stated emphatically.
His grin widened. Infuriating man. She dropped her gaze to her desk and flicked a page on her large diary.
"As for today," she went on. "We have lunch with Sir Michael at twelve, a meeting with Richard Cranway, Gus Hallam's controller, at three, and an appointment with—"
"Whoa. Slow up there." Blue set his coffee cup down and leaned—make that loomed—over her desk. "Don't you think we should put first things first?"
With his face mere inches from hers, she couldn't avoid him without leaping like a frightened hare. That, she would not do, no matter what the provocation. She held her seat. "I don't know what you mean."
He touched her hair and smiled. "How about, good morning, Blue. How are you this morning? Did you sleep well or did you toss and turn all night thinking about me, like I did about you?"
Her mouth opened. How did he—
He went on. "I'm fine, Simone, but as for sleeping, I admit I got very little. It seems we were in the same boat when we should have been in the same bed."
She leaped—exactly like a frightened hare.
Blue took a step back. "As for your question about the computer, believe it or not, I have my own, and I'll skip lunch with Sir Michael what's-his-name—unless it has something to do with Hallam." He waited.
She shook a negative, too off balance to speak.
"Good. Then with what I managed to get out of your mother—"
"Josephine, call her Josephine," she mumbled.
He conceded with a nod. "Then with what I got out of her about Hallam Porcelain and the files you're going to give me, I'll get started. If it's all the same to you, I'll work in my room." He glanced around the organized, immaculate library. "I have a somewhat disruptive working style."
He gave her a bland look and held out his hand. After making a brief stop at the rise of his biceps, her gaze dropped to his open palm. She gave him what she knew was a vacant stare. He gave her a megawatt smile that hit her like a rogue wave.
"The files, Tiger. Give me the files, and I'll get out of your hair."
She drew in a breath and tore her attention from his mouth. So this was "his way," the arrogant —About to instruct him not to call her tiger, she clamped her mouth shut, deciding not to waste her words.
She yanked open the left-hand file drawer, grabbed a set of color-coordinated files, and slammed them into his open hand.
He glanced briefly at them. "Are there at least five years of financials here?"
"Yes."
"Audited?"
"No. They were prepared by a team of research monkeys at Cambridge. I thought they'd do."
He chuckled. "I'll start to work with these and touch base with you at—" he looked at his watch "—say, two? That will give
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