The Hunter (Orion the Hunter) (11 page)

I looked at him in surprise.  “I am an interior designer, Lucas.  I don’t get involved until after these kinds of decisions have been taken.  This is way outside of my remit.”

“I know but you have seen the place.  You liked it as much as I do.  You must have an opinion, surely.”

“I’m sure you have managed quite well without my opinions until now.  You have managed to build up quite an impressive property portfolio after all,” I countered.

“But this is different.  I have never acquired a building that I have really cared about.  I usually look for maximum return in a minimum timeframe but this …”

A quiet knock on his door interrupted us.  “Yes,” shouted Lucas, irritably.

One of the men from the reception desk opened the door and took one step into the office.  “Mr Hunter, Malcolm Dennis has the CAD drawings for you.”

Lucas’ face changed swiftly from annoyance to eagerness.  “Send him in Daniel, please.”

Daniel stepped back and was replaced in the doorway by yet another man wearing a grey suit. 
Is there some kind of uniform or something?
  He hovered on the threshold looking uncomfortable.

“Malcolm, come in.  This is Miss Prince, my new interior designer.”

I looked at Lucas in surprise. 
Your new interior designer?
  Then I recovered my composure and stood, holding out my hand to the middle aged man who was walking towards us.  We shook hands. 
Ew, limp, clammy handshake.
 

Malcolm quickly informed us that he had done some preliminary drawings as requested by Lucas and the architect.  One set showed the mini Dakota divided up into eight apartments on each floor; the other set showed four apartments on each floor.  Lucas thanked him and he looked relieved to be able to escape from the office.

Lucas carried the drawings over to the large oak table and spread them out.  I followed out of curiosity.  He leaned over the designs, totally absorbed.  I was quickly engrossed too.  At exactly the same moment, we both leaned in to the centre to study the same part of one of the designs.  Our faces were suddenly inches away from each other - our foreheads must have been almost touching.  I could smell body wash and
his
divinely male smell.  I inhaled slowly, savoring it and willing him not to move away.  I could feel that pull, deep inside.  I wanted to turn my face towards his. 
No! 
I wanted to at least close my eyes as I inhaled his scent. 
No! 
I had to resist any temptation to let my body follow its instincts.  It was agony.  I was almost pushed beyond my limits of control when I suddenly realized that he wasn’t breathing.

I was working so hard on controlling my own breathing and heart rate that I hadn’t noticed him stop.  I didn’t want to react in any way because every time I had allowed my body to react to him, it had seemed to gain a negative reaction from him.  When we were not in close proximity, he was relaxed - good company even.  We stood like that for what seemed an eternity and suddenly I felt his eyes on me. 
Look into his eyes.  No, don’t - he might freak out.  Stand up instead! No, don’t break the spell.  WHAT DO I DO, DAMN IT!

I realized that my eyes had begun to move involuntarily.  They shifted from the designs where they had rested, unfocussed and moved over his hand that was resting on the table below me.  They slowly traveled up his forearm before my vision was obscured by his head.  My eyes refocused on his face, so close to my own and I felt my head turning fractionally and found that I was looking straight into his eyes.  Neither of us moved.  His eyes widened fractionally and I saw his pupils dilate.  I swallowed slowly and tried to concentrate on breathing and holding his gaze.  Time seemed to stand still.  Then, without warning, those beautiful eyes closed and I heard him take in a short, ragged breath.  I panicked thinking that he would leave the room again. 
He can’t - you are in his office.  Oh, I bet he could - his social skills aren’t great remember. 

I desperately needed to re-establish some form of contact with him.  But how? My instinct was to reach out to him, to cup his jaw with my hand. 
Don’t trust your instincts! 
Instead, I heard my voice before my brain registered what I was saying.  “You feel it too, don’t you?”  My voice was barely a whisper. 

His eyes flicked open and his breath caught in his throat.  He looked pained, like a cornered wild animal.

“Don’t you?”  I said again, my voice a little stronger.

His eyes closed again and his features tensed.  I knew that the spell was broken. 
I’ll be damned if you are going to bolt and leave me here! 
I leaned forwards slightly and rested my forehead against his.  I felt his body stiffen before he abruptly turned away from me.  The overwhelming feelings of rejection and humiliation made me feel nauseous.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered, “I can’t do this.”  I took a shaky breath and exhaled slowly before straightening and turning towards the door.  My legs felt like jelly and as I forced my feet to keep moving, I realized that I was in danger of bursting into tears. 
Just get out.  Just keep walking.  Just go!

I was reaching out for the door handle when I thought I heard his voice but it was so faint that I couldn‘t be sure. 
Don’t stop.  Don’t turn around!
  As my hand grasped it, I thought I heard him say “Don’t go” but it was not much more than a whisper. 
It is inside your head.  Don‘t humiliate yourself any more than you already have.”  
I took a deep breath and pushed down the handle.  “Issy, wait!” 
That was definitely not inside my head.
But it didn’t sound like him either.  Every part of my body froze.  I couldn’t walk out and I couldn’t turn around either. 

I heard footsteps walking towards me and felt my heart begin to pound in my chest.  Still, I couldn’t move.  The footsteps stopped.  I knew that he was behind me.  “Don’t go,” he whispered and I felt his warm breath on my cheek.  He really was right behind me.  “Issy, please.”

I tried to turn around but my weak knees gave way and I sagged.  His strong arms caught me and pulled me up and into his chest.  I heard a single sob escape from my lips and I felt his arms tighten around me and his head gently come to rest on mine.  He held me like that for several minutes - both of us standing like statues.  I gradually began to feel the tension slipping away and I relaxed into his arms.  I felt his grip on me loosen and I fully expected him to pull away from me.  He didn’t.  Instead, he began to slowly run his hand up and down my back.  It felt so good … intimate but not sexual.  I sighed contentedly as he continued to stroke my back softly.

“Better?” he murmured into my hair.

“Much.  Thank you,” I whispered, amazed that I could think and speak clearly whilst we were touching. 
That’s a first!

“Oh Issy, what are you doing to me?” he said with feeling before he nuzzled further into my hair, inhaling deeply.

I wanted to ask him what he meant but I couldn’t believe how good I felt at that moment and I didn‘t want to say or do anything that might make him let go.  I had never had close physical contact with a man that wasn’t totally sexual.  I breathed in his scent and slowly nuzzled my face into his chest.  I felt content just to stand like this, reveling in this new sensual but not sexual experience; more than that … I felt at peace, safe in his arms.  I gingerly lifted my arms from my sides and wrapped them around him loosely. 

“Thank you for not leaving,” he said carefully.  “I don’t know what I would have done if you had left.”

What?  There are plenty of other interior designers in NYC!  I imagine that you would have just called up another one to replace me.  Or did he mean something else? 

“What do you mean?” My voice was barely a whisper.  I was almost too afraid to ask in case his answer was not what I was longing to hear.

His hold on me tightened fractionally.  “Oh, Issy.  To answer your earlier question - yes, I feel it too.  Much as I have tried to ignore it, to pretend that I couldn’t feel anything, I can’t deny it any longer.  The question now is, what do we do about it?”

Oh my god! He feels it too. Oh my god!  What do we do now?  How the hell do I know?  Half an hour ago, I wanted nothing more than to seduce you and to feel you inside me.  Now, I have no idea what comes next.  I just know that I don’t want to play games anymore.

His body stiffened suddenly and his hand stilled on my back. 
What now? 

“I never play games,” he said firmly.

What the …?  Oh no! Please tell me that I didn’t voice my thoughts aloud.  Not again!  What is it about this man that makes my brain to mouth filter malfunction?

I groaned, mortified.  “What exactly did I just say?

He hesitated for a second and then began “Half an hour ago, I …”

“Okay, stop!” I said, holding up my hands, feeling heat crawl up my cheeks.  “I can’t believe that I spoke that out loud.”

He laughed; a quiet chuckle that echoed in his chest.  Then suddenly, he threw his head back and gave a huge throaty laugh and squeezed me tightly.  Despite my embarrassment, I found myself giggling.  Suddenly, I needed to see his face while he was laughing.  I raised my head and looked into his face, searching for his eyes.  They were cobalt blue and they twinkled with mirth until he registered my gaze and he stopped laughing abruptly and his expression became wary.  The beautiful clear blue irises clouded over and I felt disappointment stab in my chest.  I had done something wrong.  But what? 
Doesn’t he like to be looked at?  How could that be with a face like that?  He must get stared at everywhere he goes.  Ah, but he doesn’t socialize, does he? Is that because he doesn’t like people looking at him?  That is bizarre … Shit, please tell me that I am only thinking this … oh, thank god.

I noticed how intently he was studying my face as I finished the conversation in my head.  I lowered my gaze from his eyes automatically as it seemed to have an unsettling effect on him but I could feel his eyes on my face still. 

“Well,” he said, breaking the awkward silence.  “You don’t have any ideas about what we do next and I am so out of my depth that I feel that I might go under entirely.”

“Perhaps it would be a good idea for you to take a seat then,” I risked a peek at him through my lashes.  “And … I could really do with a drink.”

He chuckled again.  “Well, that is what we do next then.  Although hearing you say that makes me realize how much I don‘t want to let you go.” 

A warm fuzzy feeling washed over me and I reflexively snuggled into his chest.  He reciprocated by kissing the top of my head.  He sighed and placed his hands on my shoulders and I was hit by the realization that I desperately didn’t want him to let me go either.  I looked at him questioningly and he slowly ran his hands down my arms to my hands.  He took each of my hands in his and then stepped back.  I wash almost swamped by a feeling of loss, made bearable only because he had my hands in his.  He tugged gently and then walked slowly backwards, leading me towards the sofa. 

When we reached the sofa and he let go of my left hand and then gracefully lowered himself on to the seat, pulling me down next to him without letting go of my other hand.  With his right hand, he reached out and grasped the open bottle of wine and topped our glasses up.  Handing mine to me and then collecting his own, he held it up and we clinked glasses.  After taking a sip, he smiled and squeezed my hand.  “Well, that is both of your next steps accomplished,” he grinned.  “Miss Prince, your wish is my command.”

I shook my head and laughed.  “That’s dangerous talk, Mr Hunter.  Hmm, what should I wish for next?”  I squeezed his hand to let him know that I was joking, just in case he was going to freak out again.

He suddenly sat bolt upright.  “Oh … lunch,” he said.  “I forgot to ask you whether you had eaten when you arrived.”

“No, but I am really not hungry.  ”
Well, not for food anyway!  Stop it! Your big mouth could open at any time and these thoughts could really freak him out.
  “You?”

“My appetite has mysteriously disappeared,” he said cautiously.  “I am tempted to open another bottle of wine or switch to something stronger but I doubt that would be a good idea on an empty stomach.”