I clear my throat and slot my hands into my pockets, letting my eyes drift across the office and back to her. ‘That’s right. We—’
‘Lucas?’
Eva.
My pulse skips a beat. Her sudden presence triggers an adrenaline shot and I’m slow to turn to face her, to neutralise it.
‘Evangeline, it’s good to see you.’
Good? Christ. ‘Good’ has nothing on the reality.
She’s striking in pink today. A simple shirt that looks anything but simple clings to her curves and disappears into a tight black skirt. Her legs are exposed from the knee down and accentuated by heels that trigger a carnal hit, making me think about things that have no place in this room right now.
Control.
I drag my eyes back up to her hair—something innocent. It’s twisted high on her head, smart and professional and sexy as fuck.
Dammit all.
I meet her eyes. They’re bright. Their blue depths alive and popping. I could say it was down to effective make-up, but I know it’s her reaction to me.
And then I find my control. I’m not alone in this. She feels it too.
It puts us on an even footing, at least.
My chest eases and I step forward, offering my hand. She eyes it suspiciously before taking it for the briefest handshake I’ve ever experienced. But I feel the current that sparks between us, and I see it reflected in her dilated gaze as she looks up at me.
‘I’m afraid I’m too busy to see you today.’ She crosses her arms, her lips giving a delightful little tremble as she breathes. ‘If you’d called ahead we could have saved you the disappointment.’
She looks past me to her PA.
‘Clare, when are Mr Waring and I scheduled to meet?’
‘Well, you—’
‘Now.’ I cut over her. There’s no point dragging this out. ‘Shall we...?’
I gesture to the open door behind her. Her office. But she’s busy looking at her PA, as though she needs saving, and I allow myself a momentary sense of satisfaction because I’ve unsettled her.
It doesn’t beat my experience last Friday night. No, I had the rug well and truly pulled out from beneath me then. But it’s a start.
‘It seems Mr Waring and Houston Logistics have made an arrangement to swap appointment slots.’
I almost feel sorry for her PA as her voice pitches, and I know she can sense the undercurrent between us.
‘Swap?’ Eva looks at me incredulously. ‘Clare, could you ring and confirm that’s the case?’
‘Sure.’
‘No need—use my mobile.’ I extract my phone. ‘Houston’s in my recently dialled—we played in a golf tournament Sunday. Great chap.’
‘Of course you did.’
She doesn’t take my phone—she doesn’t spare me another glance. She simply turns on her heel and starts for her office.
‘Clare, would you mind bringing me a coffee, please?’
Something tells me she wants something stronger than coffee, and I have to stop myself from grinning.