The Hunter(30)

His shoulders were still shaking as he tried to suppress his mirth.



“Hey, I am sorry,” he managed eventually. “In my defense, I thought that the building was deserted. You ran into me. I had no idea who you were. You are dark and drop dead gorgeous, you were dressed all in black - does that make you a phantom?”



“I didn’t disappear,” I smirked.



“No, you didn’t. You stayed with me - in my head, all evening then all night. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”



“I had no idea. You didn’t give that impression; you looked so angry.”



“I was initially. I like having the building to myself at weekends and I didn’t welcome the interruption. Then, as I recovered, you seemed to respond in a way that is typical of most women that I have encountered and I was disappointed.”



“Respond in what way?” I asked, genuinely confused.



“I don’t wish to sound conceited - far from it, but women have an annoying habit of behaving like imbeciles around me. They usually either lose the power of speech or they attempt to seduce me. Either way, I hate it.”



“That isn’t fair. And yes, I admit that you have affected me in that way but I have never, ever responded to a man like that in my life. I can’t explain it. And I was scared of you, or at least the way you affected me. And, at the risk of me also seeming conceited, I seem to elicit a predictable response from most men that I meet, and that affords me some routine and control. I saw some evidence of that type of response from you but you also responded to me with anger - I can’t be sure but think I have glimpsed fear in your eyes sometimes too.”



I saw his eyes widen in surprise and then he pursed his lips as if he were contemplating my words. He ran his forefinger along his jaw and finally nodded.



“Yes, you probably have,” he muttered, looking uncomfortable.



“I have explained my responses to you. Can you try to explain yours to me?”



He sat back, resting his head on the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. He was silent for a moment and I thought he was shutting down, that I wouldn’t get the answers that I so badly needed.



“I felt angry at the situation - not at you. I was furious that my body responded to you. I was frustrated that I couldn’t get you out of my head. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t concentrate. I found my mind wandering in meetings. Rather than concentrating on making fully informed decisions, sometimes involving millions of dollars, I would think of you. I would wonder what you were doing. Who you might be with? What it would be like to be with you.”



Oh my god. Keep talking. Keep saying things like that!



“When I saw you, balanced on the sofa in Norman & Wilde’s reception, I realized just how much I wanted you but that I couldn’t have you. Then you fell into my arms and it was almost more than I could stand. And when you slid your hand up my chest to my face, I tried so hard not to respond to you but I also didn’t want to embarrass you or hurt your feelings. When I felt my control lapsing, I had to get out of there.”



“Why?” I croaked. What was so terrible about responding to my advances? Why didn’t you want me?



“It was bad enough to have just thoughts of you disrupting my days and nights - the prospect of you doing it in the flesh … I don’t allow myself to be distracted. I like my world to be orderly, everything within my control. I work 7 days a week. 12- 15 hours a day minimum. I don‘t have time to socialize. I don‘t have the time or the inclination for relationships of any kind.”



So he is a self confessed workaholic. Ah, with those looks and that body, there had to be a fatal flaw in there somewhere. Nobody is perfect.



“Oh,” I said, weakly. “Is that what you meant when you said that you weren’t like other people?”



“Partly, yes.”



He has a private elevator. He is reclusive. He doesn’t have relationships or socialize. He doesn’t like the way that women respond to him. Oooooh! He has a male receptionist and a male assistant - I’ll bet that all his staff are male. They all wear grey too. Bloody hell. He really is one hell of a control freak.



“Are all of your staff male?” I asked suddenly, needing to know.



He looked at me warily. “The staff that I come into regular contact with just happen to be male, yes.”



“Just happen to be male?” I sneered, finally breaking his hold on my hand. “Don’t insult my intelligence. You don’t want to be dealing with females coming on to you, interrupting your routines, so you employ men. Admit it.”