Read Online The American Earl by Kathryn Jensen - Free Book Online Page B

that was the real reason she hadn’t told him to stop.
    Curiosity.

Four
    A bby was fascinated by New York City, but even more captivated by Matt. She loved the throbbing energy of Manhattan…the hard, gray buildings and immense polished brass doors that captured the sunlight…the sophisticated fashions displayed in the windows of Bloomingdale’s, Saks Fifth Avenue and in the chic shops in spectacular Trump Tower. But Matt was an enigma, and that attracted her even more strongly toward him.
    He demanded long hours, hard work and perfection from her. But to do her job effectively, she had to have free access to him, for there were dozens of decisions to be made in preparation for each of his meetings. Yet, after their steamy incident in the penthouse, he seemed to intentionally distance himself from her. Sometimes she wouldn’t see him all day.
    On the fourth day they were in the city, she decidedthat she would have to do something to make him feel more comfortable around her. Bergdorf Goodman was on Fifth Avenue and 57th Street, right around the corner from their penthouse. The first chance Abby got, she bolted for the elegant women’s clothing store. Abby passed by displays of elegantly sensual garments in lush colors of silk, her eyes skimming over beautiful dresses that she could now afford because of her generous clothing allowance. These would only make it more difficult for her and Matt to work together. The key, she decided, was playing down her appearance. Ultraconservative business clothing, that’s what she needed to cool the sensual tension between the two of them.
    Abby found two ideal outfits at the precise moment a sales associate spotted her. “That one and that one,” she said, pointing. Fifteen minutes later she had tried them on and was on her way back to the hotel, pleased with her ingenuity.
    Â 
    Matt looked for the third time at his watch, then at the door to his employees’ suite. It wasn’t like Abby to be late for an appointment, but he refrained from knocking for fear she might breeze into the living room in her robe again. He couldn’t handle that.
    He considered a single, very dry martini, just to steady his nerves, then dismissed the need for liquid courage as ludicrous. What did he have to be nervous about?
    The door opened, and there was his answer. Her.
    Abby stepped into the room in a smart black-and-white suit. The collar of the jacket was high, a Mandarin style. The hem of the straight-cut skirt fell demurely below her calves, revealing only her ankles.She smiled at him, and his eyes immediately went to her lips—not blazing red to compliment the sophistication of the suit, but a petal-soft pink. Her hair was pinned up in a tight chignon. She looked like a schoolmarm, dressed by Vogue.
    â€œWhat the bloody hell is that? ” he demanded.
    She blinked at him. “I went shopping today. You don’t think this is appropriate for tonight?”
    It probably was suitable, he thought. She looked smart, elegant and very beautiful. What bothered him was the underlying intent of the outfit. She couldn’t have covered another inch of her body, short of wearing a hooded sweatshirt and pants. Her motive was all too clear.
    But the ploy worked in reverse. He found the high collar and sleek black silhouette provocative. A challenge. An invitation to remove every last thread from her body, to touch her, taste her, dishevel her.
    â€œTake it off,” he growled.
    â€œExcuse me?” She was glaring at him, but also looking worried.
    â€œWear that poppy-red thing you had on the other night,” he grumbled and went to the bar to mix the martini he’d earlier decided against.
    â€œA cocktail dress? To a daytime meeting?”
    â€œSomething else then…not that thing.” He didn’t hear her leave the room, but thought she must have from the sudden silence in the room. When he turned around, she was still there,