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“Why don’t we just call someone?”
“No reception.” He arched a brow. The scar added a dangerous, almost thrilling edge to the gesture. “Surely you noticed last night?”
“When I was walking up, yes, but I assumed you’d have reception here.”
“No. Eventually I’ll have something installed out here for phone and internet.”
Unease morphed into dread.
“I can’t just stay here.”
“Unless you plan on climbing down into a one-hundred-foot gorge before scaling the other side, or swimming around the cliffs to the nearest beach, you’re not going anywhere.”
“What if there’s an emergency?”
He shrugged. “It was supposed to be just me.”
The part that went unsaid, that he appeared to care less whether or not something happened to him, stirred her sympathy. They’d both lost a parent, but he was now alone in the world. No brothers to call and tease him, no father to send small gifts from back home.
“I’m sorry.”
He blinked, as if surprised by her apology.
“Too late now.”
Her sympathy evaporated.
“Are you always this charming?”
“Always.”
Her eyes narrowed. Could that have been a hint of humor in his voice?
It doesn’t matter.
She had seven more days to get the contract signed and back to London. If the housekeeper and her husband made it up in six days, that left her one day. One day for the tree to be removed, the bridge deemed safe and for her to get back home.
Her mind scrambled, tried to find a solution that wasn’t foolish or unsafe but didn’t cut it so close to her deadline.
And came up with zilch.
“Okay.” She squared her shoulders. She’d faced down bickering relatives and bloodthirsty rivals in the legal world. She could handle one week at a remote chateau with a less than friendly host. “What do we do?”
He shrugged. “I don’t care what you do. You may use the common spaces and the grounds. Help yourself to what’s in the kitchen. But,” he said, his voice dropping into something dark and almost menacing, “stay off the third floor. My office and private quarters.”
“I’ll have no trouble with that,” she grumbled under her breath.
“And don’t expect me to entertain you.”
“I have no desire to be entertained by you,” she shot back with a sweet smile. “The only thing I desire is your signature on one contract or the other so that after this unfortunate week is over, we can never see each other again.”
A laugh escaped him, dry and rough, as if he hadn’t used his voice for such a purpose in a very long time.
“You’re trying to discuss business while you’re wearing nothing but a blanket?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “It certainly beats my only alternative at the moment.”
No sooner had the words left her mouth than his eyes slid down again to her breasts. The tension returned, so hot and heavy it was a wonder she didn’t start sweating. His hands clenched, unclenched by his sides. It wasn’t the only sign that he was affected by what she’d just said. Her own gaze wandered over the dark gray sweater that clung to his broad chest, the hint of hair curling at the base of his throat, then farther down still to the noticeable bulge beneath his black pants.
