art gallery was his pet project. She recalled Bryce’s degree in fine art, which would account for his interest.
“Any questions, Bradford?”
“None that I can think of right now.”
He flashed a quick smile that said he knew better. “There will be.” He dismissed the subject as he reached for the coffeepot to refill his cup. He held up the pot in her direction, cocked his head and raised a questioning eyebrow. “Bradford?”
She held up her cup. “Yes, thank you.”
It annoyed her, the way he looked as rested as if he had just had eight hours’ sleep in a comfortable bed rather than a few hours in a chair. She entertained a brief question as to why he had allowed her to have the bed. She did not remember walking, so he must have carried her into the cabin. It had been a very considerate gesture on his part. She quickly reined in her thoughts. It would take more than one moment of consideration to alter her opinion of him and what he represented.
She wondered what other unexpected thoughts would force themselves upon her as a result of her in-person association with this man—this dynamic and impressive man. In the secret recesses of her mind she began to wonder if she had gotten in way over her head.
“Buckle your seat belt, Bradford. We’re approaching the airport.”
The jet touched down for a perfect landing. Bryce gathered the files Paige had been reading plus the papers he had been working on and shoved them into a briefcase, then thrust it into her hands.
“You take this, Bradford. I’ll get the suitcases.”
They exited the plane, cleared customs, then went immediately to the taxi that whisked them into London. Forty-five minutes later he unlocked the front door of an attractive flat in the fashionable Knightsbridge section. After depositing the suitcases on the living-room floor he launched into a quick tour. It was a much larger place than it appeared from the outside.
There were three bedrooms, a large living room, a dining room, kitchen and two bathrooms. “The front bedroom is the largest and is used as an office.” He indicated the door, then headed down the hall.
She stuck her head through the opened door to give a quick look, then hurried to catch up with Bryce who was already at the next room.
“This is my bedroom, and that—” he pointed to the next room down the hall “—is the guest bedroom.”
Paige really had not formulated any definite thoughts about sleeping arrangements. Even though Eileen said she would be staying at the corporate flat, it had not occurred to her that they would be sleeping this close to each other. She felt the scowl spread across her face, but was unable to stop it before it caught his attention.
“You look angry. Is there a problem of some sort?”
Paige swallowed the words she wanted to say, instead making an inadequate attempt at covering up. “Uh…no, of course not.” She was in a precarious situation. She didn’t trust him, but it was not an uneasiness over her physical safety. What she didn’t trust was the concerned good guy persona he tried to project. But she didn’t dare let on…not if she wanted to stay on his good side so she could find the proof she needed.
Bryce’s brisk manner gave no indication of his thoughts. “If there’s no problem, then let’s get to work. As soon as you unpack, I want you to transcribe all the material I dictated on the plane. I’ve left the tape next to the computer. I’m sure you’ll find everything you need in the office.” He disappeared inside his bedroom, closing the door behind him.
Paige picked up her suitcase and took it into the guest room as she considered what had just happened. It had been a bad slip to let Bryce see her displeasure. She could not afford for her inner feelings and ulterior motives to seep through. She had to continue to appear as simply another one of his employees. She couldn’t risk antagonizing him, at least not until she had what she wanted.
The problem was…well…he had her confused. She knew exactly who and what he was, but he refused to fit into the mold she had created for him in her mind. Yes, indeed—Bryce Lexington had her very confused. And not the least of it was her undeniable attraction to him, an attraction she needed to squash before it caused her real problems. She toyed with the notion that some of her antagonism toward him just might be a defensive mechanism directly related to that attraction.
After unpacking, she went down the hall to the office where she found the tape next to the computer. She listened to the first three letters without transcribing anything, then stopped the tape. He was truly amazing. He dictated as if he were actually reading something—no pauses to think, no changing his mind. She rewound the tape and started from the beginning.
She had barely finished the letters when the phone rang. When it rang a second time without Bryce making an appearance from his bedroom, she quickly grabbed it before it could ring a third time.
“Hello…yes, and who…uh, please hold a moment.”
She knocked softly at his bedroom door, her senses still numbed by the identity of the caller—the French ambassador himself, in person rather than his secretary. When she received no response to her knock, she called out to him. “Mr. Lexington…uh, Bryce?”
His voice came from behind the closed door. “Don’t stand out in the hall, Bradford. Come on in.”
She cautiously opened his bedroom door, not at all sure what she would find. He was turning out to be one surprise after another. Bryce sat on an exercise cycle, pedaling away while reading a book.
“A phone call for you. It’s the French ambassador.”
He wore only a pair of jogging shorts. His entire body, from his broad shoulders down to the bottom of his long legs, was taut and muscular without being muscle-bound and every bit of exposed skin was as tanned as his face. He obviously spent a great deal of time in the sun.
Paige experienced the same jolt of sensual desire as when they’d first met. Not only was he the most incredibly handsome man she had ever seen, he was an ideal specimen of the perfect male physique. A wave of heated desire swept through her body making it feel as if the temperature in the room had jumped at least twenty degrees. She quickly brought her gaze back to Bryce’s face for fear that she might be tempted to mentally remove his jogging shorts.
His expression brightened at the mention of the phone call. He put down his book, then climbed off the exercise cycle. He grabbed a towel and wiped the glistening sheen of perspiration from his face and neck. Without a word to Paige, he picked up the phone extension in his bedroom. A dazzling smile spread across his face. “Andre, mon ami.” His entire conversation was in French.
Paige spoke some French, enough to get by, but certainly nothing compared to what she heard coming from Bryce. He spoke rapidly, too rapidly for her to catch all of what he was saying. There was something about having just arrived a few hours ago and an agreement to be somewhere the following evening, then he hung up.
“I hope you brought something formal, Bradford. We’re going to a reception at the French embassy tomorrow night.”
She stared at him, her eyes wide in amazement. “We’re what?”
“You’ve got to learn to pay closer attention.”
“I heard what you said, I just don’t believe what I’m hearing. It never occurred to me to pack anything that formal.” She made no attempt to hide her irritation, but did try to curb her anger. “You didn’t mention anything about me needing something for this kind of event. In fact, you gave no hint of any kind as to what I—”
“You’re right. My fault.”
“You barely gave me time to pack—” She stopped in midsentence as the full realization of what he said finally hit her. “What?”
He spoke quietly, his words surrounded by a soft sincerity. “I said you were right. It was my fault. I should have been more specific with my instructions.”
Had