open arms? That heâd want to be photographed lounging on the sofa in his drawing room? That heâd roll over and offer her a double-page spread of the new ruler of Sassania âat homeâ?
If she really thought that, she could think again.
Laura blinked a couple of times and then pulled her shoulders back. âOh. Right,â she said blankly. âWell. Sorry to have bothered you. Enjoy your weekend.â
Like that was a possibility now.
As she gave him a vague nod and turned to walk back in the direction she had presumably come from, Mattâs hand shot out and clamped around her upper arm. âNot so fast.â
CHAPTER TWO
W HAT the hell?
Laura felt Mattâs fingers dig into her arm and went rigid as alarm flooded through her.
Well, alarm and a whole lot of something else. But alarm was what she decided to channel at that particular moment. Because he might have eyes the colour of dark molten chocolate and thick brown hair that her fingers itched to thread through. He might have a voice that made her think of whisky and honey and warm nights in front of a fire. And he might have a body that she longed to get her hands on.
But he was clearly a psychopath.
All sheâd wanted was a bit of a snoop and a few lousy shots of his house, for goodnessâ sake. Anyone would think sheâd been after his soul.
âOw,â she muttered, wincing and trying to wriggle away from beneath his fingers.
His grip loosened and she pulled back and rubbed her arm where her skin burned. If she had any sense whatsoever sheâd be spinning on her heel and racing back to the safety of her cottage. For although sheâd been drooling over his house for weeks, at no point had she considered the fact that its owner would be anything other than congenial and cooperative.
Hah. How wrong could you get?
Laura glanced up to find him glowering at her and nearly swooned at the fierceness of his glare. Whatever his problem was, and he clearly had many, she wanted nothing to do with it. She had enough problems of her own. The biggest one at the moment being the treacherous way her body appeared to respond to him.
When heâd taken her hand sheâd nearly leapt a foot in the air from the jolt of electricity that shot up her arm. And then when heâd looked her up and down, so thoroughly, as if he could see right through her clothes, every inch of her body had burned in the wake of his gaze. The heat that had whipped through her when sheâd been ogling him through her binoculars had been nothing compared to the scorching heat that was thundering through her now.
In the face of such blatant hostility her reaction to him was perverse.
What exactly was it about that penetrating stare of his that pinned her to the spot? Why were her insides going all squirmy and quivery? And more importantly, why wasnât she taking advantage of the fact that heâd released her, and running off just as fast as her size sevens would carry her?
That was what the old Laura, the one who avoided confrontation like the plague and never said no, would have done. And despite the assertiveness course sheâd recently completed, there was enough of the old her still floating around to make her long to run and bury herself under her duvet.
But scarpering in the face of confrontation wasnât an option any longer, was it? Laura squared her jaw. No. Now she dealt with stuff. Or at least that was theidea. Up until now she hadnât had the opportunity to practise.
Channelling everything she could remember from the course, Laura took a deep breath, stuck her chin up and returned his glare. âWhat do you want now?â
âWho do you work for?â he snapped.
She blinked and inwardly flinched. âThatâs none of your business.â
âWhat?â His eyebrows shot up.
Laura bristled. âWell, who do you think you are hauling me around and demanding to know who I work for?â She