An Exception to His Rule. Lindsay ArmstrongЧитать онлайн книгу.
are fine but I need to know more,’ he said flatly.
‘This kind of job doesn’t grow on trees,’ Harriet said after a long moment. ‘And it so happens it’s the right district for me.’
‘Why?’
Harriet sighed. ‘My brother was badly injured in a surfing accident. He’s now in a rehabilitation centre at—’ she named a facility ‘—that’s handy to Lennox Head and Heathcote. He has to learn to walk again. That’s why—’ she looked up at last and smiled with considerable irony ‘—when this job came up, it seemed like an answer to all my prayers. Until, that was—’ She stopped abruptly.
‘You found out whose job it was,’ Damien supplied.
She didn’t answer but looked away.
‘You decided to proceed, however.’ It was a statement, not a question.
‘Yes.’
‘And I suppose that’s why you wanted to make sure the weekends were free? So you could see your brother. Talk about coals of fire,’ he murmured wryly. He added impatiently, ‘Why couldn’t you have just told me all this in the first place?’
Harriet shrugged. ‘Ever since I found out about the job, I’ve been...I have been a nervous wreck,’ she conceded. She gestured. ‘It would be so perfect but...’ She shrugged again. ‘To be perfectly honest, you’re the last person I would want to accept a favour from.’
He grimaced. ‘Needs must when the devil drives. You need the money?’
‘I need the money,’ she agreed rather dryly. ‘This is a private hospital and it’s not covered by my brother’s medical insurance but it has a terrific reputation. And to be able to be close to Brett at the same time is an obvious bonus.’
‘I see. Has it—’ he paused and raised an eyebrow at her ‘—occurred to you that I was simply driving along minding my own business that day when all hell erupted, in a manner of speaking?’
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.
Shock seemed to take away all her powers of resistance and when he lifted his head she could only stare up at him with her eyes wide, her lips still parted and her heart beating heavily.
‘Mmm...’ He ran his hands up and down her back and hugged her. ‘I must have been mad ever to think you were skinny, Ms Livingstone!’
Harriet gathered herself. ‘This is...this is,’ she started to say.
‘Insane?’ he supplied.
‘Yes,’ she agreed, almost biting her tongue in her frustration.
‘You’re not wrong. On the other hand, we’ve experienced quite a range of emotions—’
‘That’s—what’s that got to do with it?’ Harriet broke in desperately.
‘We’ve been angry with each other,’ he went on.
‘You murderously,’ she pointed out darkly.
‘Well, not quite, but you’ve hated my guts,’ he responded. ‘I reckon we’re destined to run through the whole spectrum—you know, your eyes are stunning.’
‘I...they...’
‘And there’s your skin.’ He transferred his hands to her arms and ran his palms down them. ‘Smooth and satiny. As for your legs—by the way, I wouldn’t ever wear that wraparound skirt again...’ He paused as she moved convulsively and waited for her to quieten before he went on. ‘Only because it’s criminal to hide your legs.’
‘Mr Wyatt,’ Harriet said through her teeth, ‘please don’t go on and will you let me go!’
‘In a minute. The other thing Arthur was right about; you have a slightly superior edge at times.’
Harriet, about to make a concerted effort to free herself, stopped dead and stared at him, completely mystified. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, for example, in the lounge earlier,’ he elucidated, ‘you looked at me as if I’d crawled out from under a rock.’
‘I did not!’ she denied.
‘You probably don’t realise you’re doing it. Actually, what Arthur said was that you sometimes look as if your mind is on higher things.’
Harriet blinked. ‘What does that mean?’
He dropped his arms and moved back half a pace but Harriet stayed where she was. ‘That you think you’re above this “mortal coil”?’ he mused, and shrugged. ‘Perhaps