The Crown Affair (7 page)

‘Hello, Laura.'

The deep lazy voice behind her nearly made her jump a foot in the air. Her heart lurched. She swung round and at the sight of the man leaning against the bookcase, his gaze pinned to her, the breath shot from her lungs. Shock and disbelief slammed through her.

Oh, good Lord. It
was
Matt.

Bewilderment clamoured at her brain. Her head went fuzzy, her blood zoomed to her feet and her vision blurred. Laura flung her arm out and grabbed on to the nearest thing to stop herself swooning.

The nearest thing happened to be Matt. For a second she clutched at his arm. But the feel of his muscles brought the memory of that afternoon careering back and she went dizzy all over again.

Jerking back, Laura dragged in a breath and willed the room to right itself.

No need to panic. There was bound to be some rational explanation for Matt being here. At this particular moment she couldn't imagine what it could possibly be, but she'd figure it out somehow.

Just as soon as her heart rate slowed and her breathing returned to normal. Which would happen a lot quicker if he didn't look quite so gorgeous. Wearing a pale blue shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows and light brown chinos, he looked rumpled, incredibly sexy and
oddly at home. His face was more tanned than when she'd last seen him and the lines around his mouth and eyes a little sharper, but if anything they just made him even more attractive.

Heat pooled in the pit of her stomach and began to spread through her body. Extinguishing it with a determination she hadn't known she possessed, Laura ran her palms down her skirt and fixed a neutral smile to her face. ‘Matt,' she said as coolly as she could, as if she weren't completely clueless as to how to proceed. ‘How lovely to see you again.'

‘Quite.' He didn't look like he agreed. ‘How's the bump?'

Laura blinked and tried not to think about the circumstances that had brought about the bang to her head or the consequences. ‘Fine. How was the rest of your weekend?'

‘Pleasingly uneventful.'

Oh. So he clearly hadn't spent any time drifting around in a daze. ‘What are you doing here?'

‘I live here.'

Right. Laura's mouth opened and then closed. She couldn't begin to work out where to start. Was he here for a job, too? ‘Village mansions a little on the small side?'

The ghost of a smile played at his lips and Laura had the uncomfortable feeling that he knew everything while she knew nothing.

‘It comes with my job.'

‘What do you do?'

‘Usually?'

How many jobs did he have? ‘Yes.'

‘I buy ailing businesses, turn them around and sell them for a profit.'

That didn't make things any clearer. ‘Is that why you're here?'

‘In a way.'

Laura frowned. ‘But you were the “sir” on the other end of the line.'

Matt nodded. ‘I was. Would you like to sit down?'

‘No, I'm fine.'

‘I think you should sit. You look a little pale.'

Was it any wonder? Laura thought, sinking into a leather library chair before her legs gave way. Baffled didn't begin to describe the way she was feeling. ‘How did you know I was here?'

‘I saw you from the window.'

So that would account for the weird tingling that she'd experienced while she'd been walking across the patio. The twitchy feeling that had made her stop and ask the security guard about mosquitoes.

‘I don't get it,' she said, her eyebrows drawing together a fraction. ‘I've just been contracted to restore the palace. Why does it have anything to do with you?'

Matt moved round to sit on the edge of the huge partners' desk. ‘It's my palace.'

Maybe the state had given it to him in payment or something. Laura blinked but it didn't make her brain hurt any less. ‘I'd have thought it would belong to the king.'

‘It does.'

His expression was unreadable, his eyes unfathomable. Which was a shame as she could really do with a little help here. Absolutely nothing was making any sense.

If the palace belonged to the king and it also belonged to him, then that would mean that Matt was the king. Her brain might be about to explode but she could work
that much out. And if he was king what had he been doing in Little Somerford? What had he been doing smouldering at her, tearing off her clothing and taking her to heaven and back?

God, it was a good thing she was sitting down.

‘Who exactly are you?' she said, not at all sure she wanted to have the horrible suspicions flying around her head confirmed.

‘You know who I am.'

‘I thought I did. I thought you were Matt Saxon.' She gave a little shrug as if it didn't bother her one way or the other. ‘It looks like I was wrong. Silly me.'

‘You weren't. I am Matt Saxon. I happen to also be King of Sassania.'

Ah. There it was. Proof that she hadn't been going mad. At least not within the past five minutes.

Laura gulped, completely unable to unravel the swirling mass of emotions rolling around inside her. Maybe it would be best to stick to facts. ‘Since when?'

‘Three weeks ago.'

‘Before or after we…' she broke off and went red ‘…you know…?'

‘The coronation took place the Monday after the weekend when we…er, met.'

He gave her a little mocking smile and her cheeks flamed even more.

And then out of the tangle of emotions, indignation suddenly broke free and fuelled through her. How dared he laugh at her? It was all very well for him, perched there being all high and mighty. She was the one who was totally wrong-footed and struggling to get her head round what was happening. She had every right to be confused. And to demand some answers. ‘And you didn't think to mention it?'

His eyebrows shot up at her sharp tone. ‘Why would I? We didn't exactly stop to engage in small talk.'

Damn. That was true.

Matt tilted his head and shot her a quizzical glance. ‘Did you really not know who I was?'

Laura scowled at him. ‘I really didn't.'

‘No, well,' he said, lifting himself off the desk and moving to sit behind it, ‘I doubt the coronation was covered in
Architecture Tomorrow
.' Like that was an excuse. ‘However if you remember I did suggest lunch, and if you hadn't run off quite so speedily I might have mentioned it then.'

Laura's eyes narrowed. Oh, he was clever. Turning it around so it was her fault. ‘I'd like to believe that, but somehow I don't.'

Matt gave her a quick grin that curled her toes. ‘We'll never know now, will we?'

Unfortunately not. ‘What were you doing in Little Somerford?'

‘Escaping the press.'

No wonder he'd flipped when he'd thought she was a journalist. He was gorgeous, young, rich and royal. A paparazzo's dream. And she hadn't had a clue. She really ought to broaden her reading horizons.

‘And you got me instead.'

‘Briefly.' The grin faded and his mouth twisted.

Hmm. Laura bit back the urge to apologise. Any previous notion she might have had of apologising had long since disappeared beneath a blanket of confusion, indignation and something that felt suspiciously like hurt. ‘You sound peeved,' she said coolly.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, the speed with which you fled wasn't particularly flattering.'

A smidgeon of guilt elbowed its way through her
indignation. Laura shrugged and ignored it. ‘We had a quickie. It was no big deal.'

His eyes glittered. ‘If it was no big deal why did you run?'

‘Like I told you at the time, I had plans.'

‘Right.'

He fixed her with a gaze that had her squirming in her chair until she couldn't stand it any longer. So much for thinking she might have had the upper hand. Matt made one formidable opponent.

‘OK, fine,' she said, throwing her hands up in exasperation. ‘I guess I panicked.'

‘Why?'

‘I'm not entirely sure,' she said, forcing herself to look him in the eye. ‘It was kind of intense. For me, at least. I don't know. Maybe for you it's like that all the time.'

‘Not all the time,' he muttered, looking less than thrilled by the admission.

At his obvious discomfort Laura suddenly relaxed. ‘It was kind of amazing, wasn't it?'

‘Hmm.'

Matt regarded her thoughtfully and she bit her lip. It wasn't his fault she'd been spooked. He didn't know about the battle she'd had with herself. And now it seemed that fate had decided they were going to have to work together. Unless she cleared the air the tension that simmered between them would soon reach an unbearable level. ‘I'm sorry I rushed off like that.'

He shrugged. ‘It really doesn't matter. I put it out of my mind weeks ago.'

‘Oh,' she said, stamping down on the perverse disappointment that he could dismiss it quite so easily.
‘Well, that's good, seeing as we're going to be working together.'

Matt's gaze jerked to hers and his eyebrows shot up. ‘You don't really think you can stay, do you?'

Laura went very still and felt her face pale. ‘What do you mean?'

He leaned forwards and clasped his hands on the desk. ‘I appreciate the fact that you've been given the job, and I realise there's nothing I can do contractually, but in the light of our recent history don't you think it would be wise if you refused?'

What? Refuse? He wanted her to give up the job she so badly needed? Over her dead body. Sticking her chin up, she fixed him with a firm stare. ‘No.'

For a second there was a stunned silence. Matt looked as if she'd slapped him. Clearly no one had ever said no to him before. Well, that was tough, thought Laura, folding her arms over her chest and crossing her legs. Her days of endless people pleasing, of always acquiescing, were over.

‘No?'

‘Absolutely not,' she added, setting her jaw and glaring at him just in case he still didn't get the message. ‘I'm not going anywhere.'

Matt's brows snapped together and he shoved a hand through his hair. ‘There's a conflict of interest,' he said tightly.

‘Then you leave.'

‘Don't be absurd.'

‘I'm not the one being absurd,' she said coolly. ‘Yes, I agree that the situation is far from ideal but I want this job. And you need an architect. The palace is falling apart and bullet holes are so last century.'

His jaw tightened. ‘I don't mix business with pleasure.'

‘Neither do I,' she fired back. ‘Believe me, the last thing I'm looking for is a repeat of that afternoon.

‘Nor am I.'

‘Then I really don't see that there's anything to worry about.'

‘Don't you?' he said, dropping his gaze and letting it slide over her body.

Heat began to pour over her. Desire flared to life but she banked it down. Right now her work was more important than anything else. She was
not
going to let it go. For anything.

‘I,' she said pointedly, ‘am perfectly capable of separating business and pleasure. I,' she added, ‘should be able to control myself. Besides there is nothing you can do to make me go.'

His gaze dropped to her mouth and stayed there. His face darkened, his eyes took on a wicked gleam and Laura swallowed. Her heart lurched and a ball of nerves lodged in her throat. OK, so for all her fine words if Matt jumped to his feet, stalked round his desk, hauled her into his arms and kissed her she'd probably be through the door in seconds. But after loftily declaring that he didn't mix business with pleasure she had to hope he wouldn't put her to the test.

But why was he so desperate to get rid of her? Anyone would think she'd been stalking him. And what was all that hostility about? Surely he couldn't be
that
annoyed she'd run off?

‘Look,' she said, ‘you must be busy and the palace is huge. Our paths need never cross.' Thankfully.

Matt sighed, got to his feet and gave her one last glower before picking up his laptop. ‘Just make sure you stay out of my way.'

T
HIS
was getting ridiculous, Matt thought, struggling to pay attention to what his advisors were saying. He was in the middle of a discussion about the huge gaps in the public accounts and all he could think about was what Laura was up to.

He hadn't laid eyes on her in the two weeks since she'd been hired. Not that he'd been looking out for her especially. No. He'd had far too much to do. But it did seem odd. The palace might be big but it wasn't
that
large.

In a weird way her absence simply made him more aware of her presence. Which didn't make any sense at all.

Maybe it was the knowledge that he'd overreacted again and undoubtedly owed her another apology. Snapping at her like that to stay out of his way, snapping at anyone for that matter, wasn't how he chose to behave.

But then since he'd met her a lot of his behaviour had been uncharacteristic. If it carried on much longer his reputation for being tough and uncompromising would lie in tatters.

What was it about her that set him so on edge? Why did he have this niggling feeling that she was some kind
of a threat? A threat to what exactly? In his experience threats came from rival bidders for a company he wanted and from despotic former presidents with their hands in the till. They did not come from curvy blond-haired blue-eyed architects.

Matt shoved his hands through his hair and let out a growl of frustration. Whatever the hell was going on, it couldn't continue.

He'd start with the apology. The sooner he got that out of the way, the better. And then he'd take the opportunity to find out a little more about her.

Something about the sabbatical she'd claimed she was on, the way she'd avoided his eyes when she'd mentioned it, had been gnawing at his brain. Whatever it was, she was working for him and he should get to the bottom of it.

And that was another thing, he realised suddenly. His company employed dozens of permanent staff and he'd always made a point of getting to know every one of them. Now Laura was on his payroll and what did he know about her? Apart from what she felt like in his arms and wrapped around him, precious little.

Matt ignored the bolt of heat that gripped his body and set his jaw. In fact that was probably what had been bothering him. The non-observation of formalities.

‘Sir?'

He snapped his head round to his secretary who was sitting on his right and refocused his attention. ‘What?' he said, and added a quick smile to mitigate the sharpness of his tone.

‘I hope you don't mind my asking, but is everything all right?'

‘Fine. What does Signorina Mackenzie do for lunch?'

The only indication that Antonio Capelli was sur
prised by a question about lunch in the midst of a conversation about corruption was a double blink. ‘I believe she takes a sandwich to the rose garden.'

A sandwich? Matt's jaw tightened. No one could survive on a sandwich. ‘What time?'

‘One-ish, I believe. Would you like me to check?'

‘No, that's fine. Where's the rose garden?'

‘Past the kitchen gardens. Before the lake. There's a gate in the hedge.'

‘Thank you.'

Matt made a move to get to his feet but Antonio leaned forwards and said, ‘The advisors are waiting for your comments.'

About what? Oh, yes. Now that he'd fixed the Laura problem he snapped his attention back to the discussion with thankfully familiar ease. ‘How much is missing?'

‘Approximately fifty million,' said one of the finance advisors.

Pushing his chair back, he stood, planted his hands on the table and said, ‘Trace the money. I suggest you start with Switzerland. When you find out who's responsible, arrest them.'

 

Laura finished off the last of her cheese sandwich and brushed the crumbs off her skirt. Breathing in the heady scent of roses, she sighed with pleasure. She'd stumbled on this little slice of heaven the day she'd arrived back with all her things, and, absolutely certain that it was one place Matt, or anyone else for that matter, would never visit, she'd made a habit of having lunch here, followed by half an hour of sunbathing before getting back to work.

The weather was gorgeous, the work was absorbing,
and Matt and his disturbing effect on her composure were nowhere to be seen. What could be better?

Laura stood up, unzipped her overalls and pushed them down to her waist. Then she lay down on the grass, closed her eyes as the sun hit her bare skin and basked in the warmth.

This was so the life…

She was in the middle of a particularly lovely daydream in which she was picking up a RIBA European award for her work on the palace when she heard the squeaking of the gate.

Her heart jumped. Her ears pricked. And caught another squeak. Swiftly followed by a sharp intake of breath and a muttered curse.

Her pulse racing, Laura jackknifed up. Grabbed the sides of her overalls and clutched them to her chest. She twisted round. And nearly passed out.

Matt was standing just inside the gate, frozen to the spot, staring down at her, his face set, but his eyes blazing.

Laura swallowed and felt a raging blush hit her cheeks. Too late to hope that he hadn't seen her semi-naked. OK, so she was at least wearing her bra, which was something to be thankful for, but the muscle hammering in his jaw and the tension in his body told her that he'd seen more than enough.

‘You scared the life out of me,' she snapped, aiming for control by channelling her mortification into accusation.

‘Next time I'll knock,' he said hoarsely, turning away so she could get her clothes in order.

‘At least this time I'm not in danger of banging my head,' she muttered as she thrust her arms into the sleeves and whipped up the zip. Just passing out with
overheating. Matt creeping up on her had better not become a habit.

Springing to her feet, Laura gave herself a quick shake and forced herself to calm down. ‘You can turn round now,' she said lightly. ‘I'm decent.'

More than decent, actually. Her nipples might be annoyingly as hard as pebbles, but the shapelessness of her overalls revealed nothing of the way her body responded to him, thank goodness.

Now all she had to do was sidle off, bury herself in work and find somewhere else to have lunch because, judging by the hamper hanging from his hand and banging against his knees, Matt had decided to appropriate this spot and frankly, with thousands of other heavenly spots in the grounds of the palace it wasn't really worth arguing over.

‘Right. Well. I'll—er—leave you to it.'

‘Don't go.' Matt flashed her a smile and her stomach flipped. Awareness whizzed through the entire length of her as, unable to help herself, she ran her gaze over every gorgeous inch of him, from the top of his thick dark hair right the way down, past the T-shirt and jeans down to the flip-flops.

She paused and blinked, not sure she'd heard him correctly. ‘What?'

‘My being here isn't exactly a coincidence.'

Laura frowned. ‘Did you want something?'

‘I came to see if you'd like some lunch.' He strode towards her and set the hamper beside the table.

‘I've already had it.'

‘Have some more.'

‘I'm not hungry.'

‘Fine, you can keep me company while I have lunch,'
he said, folding himself into the chair on the other side of the table and waving that she do the same.

Hmm. ‘I need to get back to work.'

‘Later.' He gave her a quick smile. ‘Indulge me.'

Her stomach swooped. ‘Do I have any option?'

‘Not a lot,' he said, his eyes glinting with amusement and turning her head inside out. ‘According to the records, disobeying the king used to result being thrown in the dungeon.'

‘Charming.'

‘Not in the least,' he said cheerfully. ‘It's damp and crawling with vermin. You wouldn't like it.'

Probably not. Although she was pretty sure it would be less uncomfortable than having lunch with Matt when her common sense had gone AWOL. ‘Wow,' she said, arching an eyebrow and crossing her arms. ‘Absolute power and blackmail. That's quite a combination.'

‘I like to think so.'

Laura tilted her head. ‘I thought I was supposed to be staying out of your way.'

He glanced at her for a second and then grinned. ‘That was one of the things I wanted to chat about.'

Now
he wanted to chat? She narrowed her eyes. ‘Don't you have better things to do? Like a country to run?'

‘Even kings need to eat. And I thought we could get round to some of that small talk you mentioned.'

The small talk they'd been too busy getting horizontal and naked to bother with…

Laura's insides tangled into a mass of longing and frustration. Why was she always on the back foot with this man? What was it about him that had her feeling totally at sea? And more importantly why hadn't the two
weeks she'd spent staying out of his way done anything to reduce the effect he had on her?

She nibbled on her lip. Maybe small talk
was
the way forward. If she could get him to reveal a bit about himself, maybe he'd turn out to be hideously arrogant, irritatingly patronising and possibly insanely boring. If she was really lucky, he'd also expose a couple of nasty habits. Like interrupting her. Or dismissing her opinions as if batting away a fly. As her ex had had a tendency to do. Hah.
That
would certainly put her off.

Laura sat down and gave him a cool smile. ‘What would you like to talk about?'

Matt leaned down and took a bottle and a couple of glasses out of the hamper. ‘It's occurred to me that the apologies I owe you are beginning to stack up.'

Oh. Damn. Not that hideously arrogant, then. She lifted a shoulder. ‘Are they?'

He pulled the cork out, filled the glasses and slid one across the table to her. ‘First of all, I never apologised for jumping to the conclusion you were a journalist.'

He'd made up for it in other ways, Laura thought, drawing the glass towards her, and then wished she hadn't as her cheeks went red.

‘And then when you turned up here, I overreacted.'

She took a sip of wine and felt the alcohol slide into her stomach. ‘Why?'

Matt frowned. ‘I'm not sure.'

Hah. As if. She'd never met anyone less unsure of themselves. ‘Let me guess,' she said with a flash of perception. ‘You thought I was here to see you.' He stiffened and she felt a jolt of triumph. ‘And I bet you thought the worst.'

‘Possibly.'

‘You really ought to do something about that suspicious nature of yours.'

‘Perhaps.'

‘Have lots of people crawled out of the woodwork now that you're king?'

His face tightened. ‘Some.'

‘Well, I don't know what sort of people you usually hang out with but you should look at getting a new set of friends.'

‘You're probably right.' Matt sighed and then snapped back from wherever he'd been. ‘So how am I doing?'

‘Not bad.'

‘Not bad?'

‘Well, you haven't actually apologised yet.'

‘Good point.' He frowned and shifted in the seat. ‘I'm sorry.'

Laura couldn't help grinning at his obvious discomfort. ‘Not a fan of apologising?'

Matt grimaced. ‘I haven't had a huge amount of practice.'

Lucky him. She'd had years of practice. Often apologising for things that hadn't been her fault. God, she'd been pathetic. ‘I dare say you'll get better at it.'

He winced. ‘I don't plan on having to.'

‘No, well, I doubt kings generally have much to apologise for.'

Didn't they? Any more of those sexy little smiles, thought Matt, and he'd be apologising for a whole lot more than a misunderstanding and an overreaction.

Because despite the shapeless mass of beige cotton covering Laura from head to toe, the imprint of her lying there on the grass in just her bra burned in his head and she might as well be naked. Every time she tucked her hair behind her ears or reached for her glass and lifted
it to her mouth the thick cotton rustled and reminded him of exactly what lay beneath.

His head swam for a second and his hands curled into fists. Oh, for God's sake. He really had to get a grip.

Right. Conversation. That had been the plan. Food might not be a bad idea, either, he thought, taking out a couple of plates, cutlery and a number of small plastic boxes. He pushed a plate across the table to Laura but she shook her head. He opened the boxes and piled a selection of things on his plate.

‘So how's the accommodation?' he asked.

See. He could do conversation.

‘Very comfortable, thank you. Who could complain about a four-poster bed and marble en-suite?'

The image of Laura hot and naked and wet in the shower slammed into his head and his mouth went dry as the heavy beat of desire began to pound through him. Perhaps best to steer clear of accommodation as a conversational avenue in the future.

‘And the work?'

‘Really great,' she said, giving him a dazzling smile that nearly blinded him.

‘You're very dedicated.' Neither his culture minister nor his secretary could stop singing her praises. It had been driving him insane.

‘I love my job.'

‘So why the sabbatical?'

Her glass froze halfway to her mouth and she carefully set it back down on the table. ‘What do you mean?' she said warily.

‘Well, you're clearly good at your job, and you said yourself you love it. So why the sabbatical?'

‘Oh, well, you know.' She shrugged and nibbled on her lip in that way that he was discovering meant that
she was nervous. Excellent. When he'd thought that something didn't add up he'd been right.

‘I needed some time out. Stress. Boredom. That sort of thing.'

Matt didn't believe that for a second. Her whole demeanour had changed and if pushed he'd have said she looked downright shifty. ‘You don't seem the type to suffer from stress or boredom.'