The Crown Affair Read Free Page B

tilted her head and shot him a defiant stare. Her tutor would be proud. ‘You know, your small-talk skills leave a lot to be desired.’
    Matt’s face tightened. ‘I’m not interested in small talk. Do you or do you not work for Celebrity magazine?’
    Laura frowned. Maybe the mushrooms she’d eaten for breakfast had had a touch of the magic about them, because this conversation had her baffled. ‘Of course I don’t. Currently I don’t work for anyone.’
    â€˜Freelance?’ he snapped.
    Made redundant, but there was no way she was going into that. ‘On sabbatical.’
    â€˜Right,’ he drawled, clearly not believing her for a second. ‘Then why were you watching me?’
    Uh-oh. Laura’s mouth opened. Then closed. And then to her dismay she felt her cheeks begin to burn. ‘What makes you think anyone was watching you?’ she said, aiming for a blank look in the hope that it would counteract the blush. If asked, she’d attribute that to the heat.
    Matt raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, let me see,’ he said dryly. ‘How about a pair of binoculars glinting in the sun and pointing straight in my direction?’
    Oh, rats. Laura’s heart plummeted. So much for thinking she’d been discreet. She shouldn’t have pushed her luck and indulged for so long.
    Her brain raced through her options and she realised depressingly that she had no choice but to confess. Since she’d already told him she’d come looking for him she couldn’t even bluff her way out of it.
    She ran a hand through her hair and straightened her spine. ‘OK, fine. But technically I wasn’t actually—’
    â€˜I’ll ask you one more time,’ he said flatly, his eyes narrowing. ‘Which scurrilous rag do you work for?’
    Which scurrilous rag? Laura’s hand fell to her side and she blinked in confusion. What on earth was he talking about? Perhaps she ought to suggest he get out of the heat. What with all that bending and twisting while log-chopping, the sun must have gone to his head. Something had certainly gone to hers and she hadn’t even been in the sun. ‘I don’t work for a rag, scurrilous or otherwise,’ she said. ‘I’m an architect.’
    A flicker of surprise flashed across his face and then vanished. ‘That’s one I haven’t heard before.’
    Laura’s hackles shot up. ‘It’s not a joke.’
    â€˜You’re absolutely right.’
    â€˜Why would you think I was a journalist?’
    â€˜I don’t think, I know you’re a journalist.’
    Her mouth dropped open at the scorn in his voice and she had to dig deep and drum up the techniques to Embrace Confrontation to fight back the temptation to quail. ‘You’re insane.’
    A muscle in his jaw hammered. ‘So explain the binoculars.’
    Laura planted her hands on her hips and glared at him. ‘I was about to when you interrupted me.’
    Matt’s expression took on a ‘this’ll be good’ kind oflook and indignation simmered in her veins. Why the hell was she bothering? Oh, yes, the house.
    Laura tightened her grip on her manners. ‘I was going to clarify that I wasn’t actually watching you.’ Much. ‘I was really eyeing up your house.’
    He stared at her. ‘My house?’ he said, his brows snapping together. ‘Why?’
    â€˜Because it’s the best example of seventeenth century architecture I’ve ever seen. Certainly round here.’
    â€˜That’s not uncommon knowledge,’ he drawled.
    Laura couldn’t help bristling at his sceptical tone. ‘Undoubtedly,’ she said tightly. ‘However I have more than a passing interest. I specialise in the restoration and conservation of ancient buildings, and I’ve been coveting yours for weeks.’
    â€˜Is that so?’
    Matt folded his arms across his chest and