was nearly five and about to start school. Melody had described the little boy fondly but seeing her sister’s sometimes strained face on the laptop screen and listening to funny stories about what he’d got up to, Zoe had concluded he was a bit of a handful.
‘Anyone in there?’ a gravelly voice broke into her thoughts.
Straightening, she lifted her chin and met Matt Reilly’s gaze properly for the first time. ‘I—’ Oh.
Oh, man. The Americanism resounded in her head. Freezing, heart thudding, her mouth dropped open. Realising she must look like the village idiot, she shut it immediately, teeth clicking together. ‘Yes. Sorry.’
‘Good.’ Leaning forward, he grabbed a notepad and silver embossed pen, and made a few notes on the paper.
She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. She’d seen blurred photos of Matt in the press, but he was always ducking his head away or wearing sunglasses, so there’d never been an opportunity to see what he really looked like.
The reality was that he was outrageously, jaw-droppingly gorgeous.
He shared his brother’s colouring, the green eyes and thick dark hair, but the similarity ended there. Stephen was tall and wiry, but with the long spread of his ridiculously muscular legs and the breadth of his shoulders Matt was far bigger and better built. In fact, he looked more like an international rugby player than some arty creative type who spent most days holed up in a dark studio.
And though she could understand why Melody found Stephen attractive, Matt was far more appealing. His face was leaner, rugged with stubble and with a fierce intelligence shining in his gaze under thick dark eyebrows. James Marsden chiselled cheekbones and a stern mouth might have given him a rugged male beauty were it not for the two tiny imperfections she’d always been a sucker for. A sinking feeling tugged at her tummy as she stared at a bump on the ridge of his nose, perhaps from a break, and a small, inch long scar that ran down into his top lip.
She’d had a thing about bad boys since a teenage crush on Harrison Ford in the Indiana Jones films, sparked by watching Christmas re-runs with Ruth. Their great aunt, who’d raised them since Mel was seven and Zoe was thirteen, loved adventure movies despite her appearance and stilted manner. Since then, the rebel characters in TV series and films had prolonged Zoe’s obsession with bad boys. It was unfortunate for her, because Matt definitely looked like the kind of guy who’d ride up on a motorbike wearing leathers and whisk a girl away for a dirty, dangerous weekend. The sinfully tight blue jeans and black t-shirt clinging to his broad shoulders reinforced the image.
‘Shall we get started?’ he asked, frowning.
‘Of course,’ she straightened in her seat, trying to reassert her professionalism.
His phone pinged. ‘For the love of—’ putting the pad aside, he checked his mobile, reading something and scowling like it was telling him the end of the world was nigh. ‘The sooner my assistant is better, the sooner my sanity will return,’ he muttered absent-mindedly, touching the screen and typing a reply message.
The deadpan delivery was unwittingly amusing and made him seem less grumpy. Zoe couldn’t help chuckling under her breath as she stared at him. A tingling awareness ran through her, a purely sexual heat beating between her legs and tightening her skin, raising bumps along it.
No. You detest him. He hurt Melody.
A pretty face and a toned body mean nothing.
Men aren’t to be trusted.
Get over it.
It was easy to clamp a lid on her unruly hormones as she reminded herself of those facts. Plus the intense physical reaction was ridiculous and just too much. It had to be down to the jet lag and fury, as well as her spinning, conflicted emotions about coming home.
Then she sighed, studying him as he tapped away on the phone. Damn. One thing she didn’t usually do was lie to herself and the truth was she’d never had such an overwhelming and immediate attraction to someone before. Fancied them, sure. Had flings, a few. Longer term boyfriends, yes…which unhappily lead her thoughts to Greg. What an awful waste of five years he’d turned out to be.
Why didn’t I see it coming? Why didn’t I know?
Rage swamped her, despair pulling her down. She was obviously no judge of character where men were concerned. She’d virtually abandoned Melody to follow Greg across the ocean, and in return he’d betrayed her.
She straightened her shoulders, setting her jaw.
No. No man was ever going to come before her family again. She owed her sister more than that…and she owed the Reilly brothers revenge.
‘I’m sorry,’ Matt silenced his phone and placed it face down on the glass table. ‘Today’s been nightmarish,’ he ran a hand distractedly through his hair, ‘to say I’m short-staffed is an understatement.’
If part of the reason for his stress hadn’t been down to him throwing her sister out on her arse, Zoe might have felt sorry for him. He looked genuinely pained. But it was his own stupid fault.
‘That’s okay,’ she said politely, wondering how much of the interview to go through with before sharing the real reason for turning up on his doorstep. She felt like she needed to know more about him first. What if she started accusing him of what he’d done to Melody and he denied it all, or threw her out too? No, that wasn’t good enough. She had to think about this strategically. It was just a shame that dragging tiredness and anger were befuddling her brain.
‘Right, the phone is being ignored and I’m not going to answer the door if the bell goes,’ he declared. ‘Let’s get on with this.’ Leaning forward to grab the notepad again, the movement showed off strong chest muscles shifting under the cotton of his top.
Her eyes flew up, noticing the petal pattern in his forest green irises, and how focused his gaze was.
‘So, tell me more about why you wanted the agency to send you over for this job in particular?’ he asked, pen poised over the paper.
‘Er…um,’ she stuttered. It was an easy warm-up question, but her brain couldn’t seem to come up with an answer. What the heck had she said earlier? She couldn’t remember clearly, she’d been so intent on getting through the door.
‘Well?’ he raised both eyebrows.
Glancing out of one of the French doors, Zoe caught sight of a flowering indigo plant and a section of deck railing. It looked pretty out there, idyllic. Which nudged her memory. ‘Like I said, it’s a lovely place to live,’ she mumbled.
‘That’s it?’
‘Yeah,’ she said lamely. God, this was awful. She was acting like a space cadet. Get it together.
Matt twisted his wrist and checked his battered but expensive looking watch. ‘Are you sure you’re actually here for an interview? To be frank, I’m really busy, so…’ he started unfolding his tall body from the sofa.
It was enough to shake her from the fog. What was she doing? She was here for a reason, couldn’t blow it. ‘N-no,’ she squeaked, and then cleared her throat before speaking with more confidence. ‘I mean, no.’
Shooting up and stalking around the coffee table, he jerked her from the sofa by one elbow. ‘Why the hell are you here then?’
She stumbled against him, letting out an oof as their bodies clashed awkwardly. Typically, his muscles were as solid and defined as they looked and her face bloomed pink as scorching sexual awareness ran through her, hardening her nipples. She glanced down quickly to check he couldn’t see them through her top. Luckily he was more focused on other