She cast him a dark little look from beneath her lashes. ‘Accidents happen.’
‘Yes, but I thought you might be able to cut me a little slack—no, I see not,’ he murmured as her lips set.
And, he continued, but to himself, you not only have amazingly long eyelashes, Harriet Livingstone, but a rather gorgeous mouth, severely sculptured yet somehow incredibly inviting. Plus—he allowed his dark gaze to roam over her—satiny-smooth skin, slender delicate wrists and lovely hands that I quite failed to notice the last time we met.
So that’s it, Damien Wyatt, he castigated himself inwardly. Even with all the things you didn’t notice then, this damn girl made an impression on you two months ago and that’s why you felt goaded into seeing her again. What’s more, she’s making even more of an impression on you today, which is not going to lead anywhere, he told himself grimly.
But how to knock her back for the job?
In all decency you can’t, he decided. So what to do if she keeps on making an impression on you?
A dry smile briefly twisted his lips—think of your poor car before it got fixed...
‘Well, you’ve got the job if you want it,’ he said abruptly. ‘Would you like to see the studio and flat before you make up your mind?’
Harriet clenched her hands in her lap. ‘You don’t have to feel sorry for me,’ she said carefully. ‘When one door closes another usually opens.’
‘Harriet,’ he warned, ‘I don’t appreciate being told what I should or should not feel but, if you want to get it right, I don’t only feel sorry for you—most people would in the circumstances—but I feel as guilty as hell for the things I said over what was, you’re right, an accident.’
‘Oh...’
‘Now, could we get on with it? You’ve barely had a drop of your tea,’ he added with sudden frustration.
Harriet grabbed her purse. ‘I’ll leave it.’
She got up so precipitously, she tripped over Tottie and would have fallen to the floor if Damien hadn’t lunged forward and caught her.
The next moments were confused as he untangled her from the dog, the coffee table and she ended up standing in the middle of the room in his arms.
‘You wouldn’t be accident-prone, would you?’ he asked incredulously.
Harriet tried to free herself but, although he held her quite loosely, he made it plain he was not about to let her go. ‘I...I suffer from a left-handed syndrome,’ she said a little raggedly.
‘What the hell’s that?’
‘My father’s invention to explain the fact that I’m a bit uncoordinated at times.’
‘So, yes—’ he raised his eyebrows ‘—accident prone?’
She shrugged. ‘Maybe. Would you mind letting me go?’
Damien Wyatt still had a spark of amusement in his eyes as he said wryly, ‘Yes I would, heaven alone knows why. Well, for one thing I’ve never held a girl as tall as you but it feels good.’
‘I...’ Harriet opened her mouth to protest but he lowered his head and started to kiss her.