Bid Me Now (2 page)

 
Miri’s temper came out of nowhere, but then, it always did. The man was worse than arrogant. He was straight-out boorish. Staring at her leg. Dismissing her like a kid. “Do you get some sort of bloody satisfaction in pulling down beautiful old buildings, you…you obnoxious
jerk
?!”
 

She was on her feet, hiking her bag over her shoulder, when he stood and started walking toward her, his face set in granite. Oh, God, what was this? He couldn’t physically throw her out of the place, could he? That would be assault. But hell, his expression said he was about to do just that. Pick up her little five-feet, three-inch self and toss her outside.

He halted two feet from her, and Miri felt herself actually sigh in relief. Uncomfortably close, but at least she was still on her feet and he hadn’t put a hand on her. She stared at his T-shirt, caught in the moment of watching his chest rising and falling as he drew a slow breath.
 

A moment later his rough voice snapped her head up. “That’s some temper you’ve got. It must get you into a lot of trouble. ”

Miri bravely stood her ground under his lethal stare. To hell with him. “You’re just being pig-headed. If you’re going to pull the place down anyway, why can’t you sell? There must be something I can offer you. What if I…?” Her words fell away as he angled his head and stared at her leg, still on display through the slit.
 

He looked up and stroked a thumb across the dark stubble of his jaw, his eyes mocking her. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll have to pass.” His gaze dropped to her breasts. “But then again, we could do this another time if you’re so eager.”

Miri blinked and felt her mouth flop open in astonishment. Surely he didn’t think…? If this was a joke, no one was laughing. “Actually, I was going to say ‘talk to my lawyer about increasing the offer,’ but it doesn’t matter now. I should thank you for listening to me, but it wasn’t a pleasure so I won’t, you
ass
!”
 

“Ass?” He shook his head. “Such a bad word coming from such a pretty mouth.”

Of course he was laughing at her, but somehow it didn’t make him seem any less dangerous. She backed away, tensing as he took a step forward to maintain the distance between them. He was going to throw her out for sure, Miri decided, taking another careful step back, praying she wasn’t about to end up against the wall. But this time he didn’t move, giving Miri hope for a safe escape.
 

He stroked his hand across his head, his expression almost rueful. “Look, bidding for property is tough, but I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it.” His tone softened as he looked her over again. “Hell, with that determination and in that outfit, I don’t doubt it.”

“I don’t need your advice.” Her words came out as a low hiss, and Miri felt a small prick of satisfaction when he flinched.
 

“Fair enough.” He lifted a huge shoulder. “Well, as I said, I have work to do.”

She braced for his next move, but then he put out his hand, and it took Miri several seconds to decipher the gesture. A handshake? The last thing she expected…and the last thing she wanted. Well, her body might want to know what that big, rough paw felt like, but to hell with her body.
 

“Don’t let me hold you up,” she snarled through her confusion, pointedly ignoring his outstretched hand and fixing him with her best scowl. “Pulling down beautiful buildings must keep you busy.”
 

This time he didn’t flinch. Instead, he looked down at her thoughtfully. Now what? This was her cue to turn and walk out, so why couldn’t she move? He was staring at her again. So intently. What was it? It looked like…
desire
?

Out of nowhere, and of its own wretched accord, her body responded. A hard stab of lust slammed Miri so hard she gasped under its raw brutality. She watched in despair as his eyes read hers effortlessly, a faint smile curving up one corner of his mouth. He knew. She wasn’t going to need that cliff. She was about to die of embarrassment right here on Nick Brannagh’s office floor.
 

Miri started walking backward as if trying to escape it. To escape him. One step, then another. She was almost at the door, almost safe, when the heel of her right shoe flexed against a loose floorboard and snapped.
 

He stepped forward and caught her easily. Too easily, as if her stupid overheated body had planned for it to happen. Needed it to happen. Helplessly, Miri felt herself pulled flush to hard muscle, his chest rumbling against her cheek when he laughed softly. “Hey, are you okay?”
 

Such a ridiculous question to ask in her condition. She couldn’t even remember how to speak. She nodded into his T-shirt, fully distracted by the woody, masculine scent of him and the warmth of his chest. He felt like steel.

“Are you okay?” he echoed, easing her back to look down at her.
 

No, of course she wasn’t okay. Her body was jelly, her brain had melted, and she was in this man’s — this jerk’s — arms. That didn’t add up to okay. And now her body wanted him more than it wanted its next heartbeat. It wanted him to…. Oh, God.

“I have to go.” Her hands fisted his T-shirt as she frantically tried to control her arousal. She felt his arms close harder around her. Inviting her to stay. There was no mistaking the offer.

“Hey, take it easy,” he suggested softly into the top of her head, the warmth of his breath sending another curve of raw heat low to her belly. “You’re shaking.” He chuckled. “It’s nothing I said, is it?”

 
“I…have to go,” she mumbled into his chest. Sliding a tentative foot backward, Miri uncurled her hands and pushed from him, feeling his arms relax around her, then drop. But she should have known her escape wouldn’t go smoothly. After all, her humiliation wasn’t complete. Miri almost sobbed when she felt her ankle buckle on the broken heel, and she made a wild grab for him again.
 

“Steady,” he murmured, one hand slipping around her waist, the other taking her arm to keep her balanced. “I think you need to sit down for a minute, Miri.”
 

Of course she didn’t need to sit down. She needed to cry. But first she needed to die, and that meant finding that cliff after all. Frantically, she wriggled her foot free of the broken pump and kicked it aside. A quick glance down at the heel told her it was beyond repair. Pulling her other foot free, she kicked the shoe away and started for the door, fighting the urge to run.
 

The voice behind her rumbled without mercy. “Don’t you want your shoes?”
 

A ridiculous question. As if she’d want a memento of her day from hell?
 

Miri sucked in a lungful of air to quell the urge to swear and started the long, bare-footed, and thoroughly undignified walk to her car. The longest walk of her twenty-four years. Sinking into the driver’s seat, she sat still for a moment, trying to steady her indignation, anger, and every hormone raging around in her body. “Omigod, omigod,” she chanted under her breath, finally braving a look back at the mill’s entrance.
 

He was watching her. Why wouldn’t he be? She was a joke, after all.

And then her car wouldn’t start.
 

Frantically, she turned the engine over and over, her eyes burning with tears of humiliation.
If he comes out to help, it truly will be the end. He’ll find a red-faced corpse behind the wheel
.

“Start, you
shitty
heap of junk.”
 

Her vicious order must have done something to the Beetle’s conscience, since at the fourth turn of the key, the car powered to life.
 

Miri drove away, telling herself not to look at his face in the rearview mirror. But she looked anyway.
 

He was still grinning.

CHAPTER TWO

“Fecking eejit!”

Jesus. What the hell was up Fitz’s ass today? He’d been Irish-cursing all morning over the smallest thing. Except this time it didn’t sound small.
 

Nick dragged his work-booted feet off the desk and went to investigate, although he had a fair idea what had happened. The sound of breaking glass, followed by one of Fitz’s explosive curses, pretty much said it all.
 

“So who’s the fucking idiot?” Nick asked, glancing down at the sight of Fitz’s feet planted in the middle of what would have been an expensive, high-quality glass light fixture twenty seconds ago.
 

“Fecking thing fell out my hands,” Fitz boomed, waving a fat hand in the direction of the ceiling hatch above the passage. “Must’ve been up there for fecking years.” He glared at Nick from under a hedge of eyebrow that met in the middle. “Are you laughing?”

“Not me.” Nick hid his grin by squatting down and poking at the heavy brass fitting covered in broken glass. “Looks thirties art deco. Good quality. Maybe five hundred dollars at auction. Any more up there?”

“Yeah, about a dozen of the fecking things.” Fitz kicked at a shard of glass. “I’ll get the scaffolders to help with the rest.”

Nick glanced at the mess and decided it was a good time to step in before the scaffolders found themselves on the receiving end of Fitz’s bad mood. It didn’t help that they were outright scared of the guy, even on one of his good days. “No, don’t bother,” he said over his shoulder as he made a fast U-turn to his office. “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll help.”
 

Fitz followed him into his office and slumped into a chair. “Hell, maybe I’m getting too soft for this work.”
 

Nick grinned and flicked his eyes over his site manager’s paunch. True, Fitz was past fifty and carrying an impressive spare tire. But soft? Hardly. Few men would be game enough to find out with a guy who weighed two hundred and thirty pounds and had boxed his way to an Irish heavyweight title back in the eighties.
 

“Maybe a little less Guinness,” Nick suggested, grinning at the deepening scowl on the face across from him. Fitz had introduced Nick to the black stuff seven years ago. He’d been a green twenty-four-year-old when Fitz had coming looking for a job, and despite a twenty-year age gap and frequent arguments over their favorite drink, they’d achieved a solid friendship.

Tipping back in his chair, Nick slapped his boots back on the desk. “Anyway, what’s the job looking like so far?”

Fitz’s scowl melted to a broad grin. “Nothing a wrecking ball can’t deal to in a few hours.” He folded thick arms over his barrel chest. “Jesus, I love these small jobs. Easy work. Easy profits. No fecking complications.”
 

Except for the one that turned up yesterday
, thought Nick with a sigh. She’d been a regular visitor in his head all morning, and it was starting to annoy the hell out of him. Like a persistent itch just out of reach.

Swinging his feet back to the floor, he stared at the spreadsheet open on his laptop. “It’s looking like a profit of around three hundred thousand in total, including the sale of the cleared land and the building façade. The best small job for the month.”
 

Fitz grunted and scratched between two buttons straining to stay fastened. “Yeah, fecking lucky that I spotted the sale?”
 

Nick nodded and opened a new worksheet column. “How long to do the demolition and salvage? Still four weeks?”

“Make that five weeks with a small crew. They’ll start at the end of next week. We’ll use our own equipment. Packing the bricks for the seller will take a few days. They want delivery to their New York depot, so good for us. Only a two-hour drive down the coast.”
 

Nick updated the figures. “Good. I’ll be sticking around until the end of the week at least, maybe longer. I’ve had the Blaze transported up here.”

Nick was looking forward to some serious sailing. His favorite pastime and the first chance in months to get out on his ketch. He couldn’t really afford the time away from his business, especially with the multi-million-dollar Spanway Bridge demolition contract due to be finalized in the next three weeks. But a week or so in Charmford wouldn’t make a lot of difference. His London team had things under control.

Fitz grinned. “Sounds good. When are ya gonna buy one of those super yachts?”

“Don’t you start. Cate keeps pestering me, but only so she can use it to entertain her socialite friends.”
 

No damned way was he ever going to buy a super-yacht. They weren’t for sailing. Besides, as he’d reminded his sister many times, a big boat wouldn’t prevent her seasickness. He’d only taken Cate and her husband Charles on his ketch once. Despite the sea being as flat as a millpond, Cate had spent the entire time lying on one of the bunks, groaning. No, he’d stick to his basic forty-footer, and Cate would just have stick to socializing on dry land.

Fitz grunted in amusement. “By the way, who was it that arrived late yesterday?”

Nick raised his brow. “You saw her?”

“Saw you talking to her in the parking lot just as I was packing up. Hard to miss.”

Hard to miss, all right. A fresh image of Miri pressed into his mind. Damn, it was strange that he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Or visualizing her. Talk about a sight for sore eyes, decked out in that dress-to-impress business getup. Well, he’d been impressed all right, but not by Ms. Business Attire’s outfit or even her luscious body. It had been the pale delicate features, waist-length tumble of dark chocolate curls, and incredible green eyes that had spiked his interest. A genuinely beautiful woman with a soft innocence behind all that temper that straight out intrigued him. She’d been so far out of her comfort zone, he’d half expected her to bolt right there in front of him. Except in those heels and on that broken-down asphalt, she wouldn’t have made it very far. As much as he loved heels, he’d seriously worried about the safety of those killer legs.
 

“What did she have to say?”

Say? Then there was her mouth. All plump and rosy-soft, with smiles and pouts. The kind of mouth that was grabbing his interest all over again.