Page 27 of The Pleasure Contract

God help her, even hisfeetwere sexy.

She was so busy trying not to drool over the biceps that strained against the frayed edge of his blue T-shirt sleeves that she almost missed the hard line of his mouth. The set to his jaw.

But his voice, stern and dark, reminded her where she was. And what she was here to do—which was not simply flutter about, admiring him.

Even if he did look like a dressed-down Greek statue.

Bristol reminded herself that Greece was quite a ways off to the east, give or take a few seas. And Italy.

“I came to find you, but couldn’t,” Lachlan said.

This was how it was now. Or maybe this was how it had always been, but Bristol hadn’t realized it. This pulsing sort of undercurrent beneath whatever words they used. This dark thing inside her while she fought to keep her voice light and that smile on her face—because that was the professional thing to do, surely.

Was she only imagining it was the same for him?

“I’m sorry,” she said, because apologizing was always the right move. She’d been using it on her advisers and committee members and professors for years. Coming out of the gate with an apology always put them on the back foot. “I didn’t expect you to have any free time today. I would have made myself available.”

There was something taut in his face then. It took her a moment to understand he was clenching his teeth enough to make a muscle flex in his jaw. “I don’t think that’s true, Bristol. I think you went for a walk. Catriona said she saw you down near the olive groves more than an hour ago.”

“And here I thought we’d left Stephanie behind for a while. Is your sister keeping tabs on me? You really do have eyes everywhere.”

“I asked her if she’d seen you.”

Bristol felt that buzzing, wanting thing shift then. Into the other thing she felt most often around him—the need to push his buttons. Hard.

Because she knew what happened when she did. He didn’t betray a temper. Not Lachlan.

He fucked it out instead, and took his revenge that way.

And she loved every minute of it.

She pulled her phone out of the pocket of the flowy skirt she was wearing, then made a show of looking at it for missed calls and messages she already knew weren’t there.

“I expected you to be here,” he growled.

“And I’ve agreed I should have been. But Lachlan, you also could have called, and I would have come running.”

Had she meant to use that particular tone? It wasn’t bitter, exactly. But she knew that if she could hear the edge in it, he could, too.

He clearly did. “Do you have a problem with making yourself available to me, Bristol?”

And it was easier to smile then, because she could hear the dangerous note in that silky tone he used. The fine hairs on her arms and the back of her neck prickled, and her pussy was instantly slippery and achy.

Maybe he liked flirting with all the dark places between them as much as she did.

“I do not,” she said, still smiling. “That’s the job, isn’t it?”

He didn’t like that. She could see he didn’t like it.

And she opted not to ask herself why she should feel it like a personal triumph when he reached over and fit his hand to the curve of her cheek. Bristol already knew the answer.

“Don’t you know better than to say things like that?” His voice was still like silk, never quite concealing the power beneath. And the lick of fire that she tried not to think of as theirs. “The job is never supposed to feel like a job.”

She laughed, unwisely. “To who?”

His hand tightened against her cheek and she thought he might pull her close, but he didn’t. Instead, he let go and shifted back, leaving the feel of his palm against her skin. So hot she was sweating a little.

“My assistant tells me we’ve gotten some tabloid notice,” he said. “I think we got ahead of the worst of the speculation. At least for now.”