Sophie eased back and studied his face. “Then what do you mean?”
“There’s no reason we can’t enjoy each other’s company,” he told her. “I like being with someone whose body isn’t the only sexy part. You’re a match to my business mind and that’s refreshing in this industry. You challenge me to be better and that’s quite an admirable trait.”
Again, she was flattered he found her useful and formidable, and that he noted she was smart. That meant so much to her because she did pride herself on being an educated woman.
“Is that all you want my company for?” she asked.
“Hell, no.” He slid his hands up over the curve of her hips to settle at her waist. “I want to be the man who continues to awaken this inner vixen. I want to be the man who shows you what intimacy can be. I’m a jealous bastard and I hate the thought of any other man being any of those things to you.”
Sophie shivered at his commanding, authoritative tone. She’d learned vital information about Nigel tonight: he was a giving lover and he was a force to be reckoned with. As strongly independent as she prided herself on being, she couldn’t ignore his advances and she didn’t want to.
But why couldn’t she enjoy Nigel’s company while she was here? She was a grown woman and didn’t need to make excuses for going after what she wanted. She wasn’t going to hurt him or Green Room Media. All Sophie wanted to do was find some juicy dirt on Miranda and then she’d be on her way.
But Sophie needed to find the scoop sooner rather than later. Her week was nearly up, and she had nothing to take back to Texas other than the best sexual experience she’d ever had. She wasn’t ready to go, the thought of leaving had knots of anxiety and tension balling up within her.
Emotionally, she couldn’t afford to keep up this charade. Even though she’d devised a sneaky scheme, she truly wasn’t a ruthless person and she didn’t like stooping to this level. But, if she left, she’d be leaving Nigel and she wasn’t ready.
“You seem to still be thinking.”
Nigel’s words cut into her thoughts and she redirected her attention to him.
“Maybe I wasn’t persuasive enough,” he added, bending down to run those talented lips along her exposed neck.
Sophie dropped her head back and curled her fingertips into his shoulders. Did anyone ever say no to this man?
“I’m yours,” she muttered, helpless against his persuasion. “For as long as I’m here.”
She didn’t know if she should hurry and get out before she got hurt or take her time and enjoy the ride.
* * *
“We haven’t received confirmation of your plus one.”
Nigel pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. He could handle the cat fighting and nit-picking of the ladies from Secret Lives without breaking a sweat, but when it came to his grandmother, he somehow resorted to a child being scolded.
“I haven’t sent in my plus one, yet,” he replied, blowing out a sigh.
“Yes, I’m aware. Hence the nature of my call.”
Dame Claire Worthington never failed to choose sharp, witty words and there wasn’t a soul in the family, or anywhere else in Cumbria, that dared cross her. In addition to being strict and demanding, she was also loving, loyal, respected...and that’s why he hated letting her down.
Nigel turned from the wintery view of the city to face the leather sofa...the one he’d had Roslyn spread out on just last night. He’d told himself that he’d come up here to think and get away from the office for the day, but perhaps he just wanted to return to the scene of the best night of his life.
He had no clue what was happening with his new temporary employee, but he knew he wanted more from her...professionally and personally. Why couldn’t he have both? He made the bloody rules and owned the company. He wanted her to stay on permanently, not just because he wanted her in his bed, but because she’d already brought so much to Green Room Media. Workplace romances happened all the time—there had to be some kind of protocol they could follow to keep everything scandal-free.
“Nigel.”
“Yes, yes,” he stated, shifting his attention back to his grandmother. “I know. Plus one.”
“The RSVP was due in by today. I’m sure it slipped your mind with as busy as you are with your city life, so that’s why I called. You can just tell me you’ll be bringing a date to your sister’s wedding and I’ll make sure catering gets the accurate number.”
As if an inaccurate count of his one date, or lack of, would throw off the filet Oscar-style menu. His grandmother made it no secret he was only getting older and that she disapproved of the fact that he still hadn’t settled down, let alone started working on producing the next generation of little Townshends.
His grandmother was old school and British...there was no arguing with her and she damn w
ell knew it. But for all that, she certainly wasn’t the pearl-wearing, tea-sipping elderly woman. She worked hard all her life, raised her children without a nanny and ran their horse farm alongside her husband. She understood his reasons for wanting to build his own empire and the move to NYC, but she wasn’t backing down on his settling soon to start a family.
“You are cutting this close,” she added. “The wedding is next week, you know.”