Pitch Imperfect(40)
Mrs. P. set her tray of tea, bannock and brownies on the coffee table. Then she smiled, seemingly delighted. “You two carry on and remember, be safe. AIDS, syphilis, chlamydia...well, it doesn’t bear thinking about. I’ll shut the door and tell the others not to disturb you.” She lowered her voice to a stage whisper and looked at Rob. “There’s plenty of tissue in your desk drawer.”
Rob groaned as the door clicked shut behind her. “Bugger.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d blushed, if indeed he ever had. Anjuli was staring at the door, face red and jaw so low he could see her molars. “She’s reading A Grandparent’s Guide to Modern Sexuality, trying out new terminology and telling me what she’s learned during her coffee breaks. Yesterday it was butt plugs.”
Anjuli giggled, then burst into long peals of laughter. God it was good to hear her laugh again. The brownies went down a treat—two for Anjuli, he noticed; she always was a greedy guts with chocolate—while he told her of Mrs. P.’s cringeworthy titbits on penis enlargers, vibrator safety and ménage etiquette. Anjuli laughed, scooping up a crumb with her finger. She popped it into her mouth, eyes brimming with mirth.
Rob held his breath and his chest tightened. There never had been any other choice for him than the one he’d already made. “I’ll restore the manor for you, but it will be on my terms.”
Apprehension clouded her face. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I’m in charge. It’s my say on quality and construction.”
“It’s my house, remember?”
“And it’s my professional reputation. I don’t cut corners, I don’t skimp on details and I don’t leave a job unfinished. If that’s not to your liking, you’ll need to find another architect.”
“I go away for eight years and you turn into a passive-aggressive?”
“I have a colleague in Edinburgh I could recommend.”
“Fine, but I’m no pushover.”
The idea of pushing her over, taking her on the sofa and giving the cleaners the gossip of their lives made his balls ache painfully. He dropped his eyes to her crossed, shapely legs. He knew from experience they could clench tight and ride hard. Would she be wet and ready for him?
His voice came out hoarse. “Don’t dress like that when my men are on-site.”
Anjuli huffed. “And does my hair meet your requirements?”
Only if it’s loose and wild while you’re riding my cock. “Keep it tied back or up like it is now. I’ve got young lads working for me and I don’t want them wandering around starstruck and horny. A beautiful woman in tight clothes and make-love-to-me hair is a dangerous distraction on a construction site.”
He clasped her hand, and when she would have tugged it away Rob tightened his grip. He didn’t know why she’d come back, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to do another runner. “Don’t mess me around,” he warned. “You can’t go on tour in the middle of the job or suddenly decide you don’t want to restore the house anymore. I employ a lot of people.”
“I won’t.”
Rob watched her look through the initial estimates he’d made. Her tongue skimmed her upper lip and her fingers brushed her collarbone. Was she doing that on purpose? She pushed out her lower lip as she perused the figures. It was deep pink, full and moist, just like her—Fuck! Where were his car keys? He needed a distraction before he really did act the Border Reiver, throw her down and take her whether she wanted or not.
“I want to have a look around the house,” he said.
Her delighted expression intensified the throb in his crotch. “I’m heading to the pub so maybe you could come around tomorrow?” she asked hopefully.
“I’m going now.”
“What’s the rush?”
“Once I decide something I don’t procrastinate.”
Let her chew on that.
* * *
Rob chewed on his duck breast and tried to stay serene as he ate Ben’s four course meal. No “meat and two veg” when Ben was cooking; his brother had a gourmet palate. But concentrating on the food he’d prepared was increasingly difficult with Mac talking incessantly of Anjuli. In the week or so since their meeting at the school they’d spent a lot of time together, catching up—and no doubt Mac was building romantic dreams of happily ever afters.
“When are you going to see the house?” Mac asked.
“I’ve been twice, both while Anjuli was at the pub,” he answered levelly. Not so level was the surge of anticipation he felt at returning. “Back tomorrow morning with the men, starting on the roof.”