A smooth, deep voice answers. “Ignition. Can I help you?”

“Hi, yes. I’m Elizabeth Ryder. I have an appointment with Mr. Hamilton at ten o’clock. I’m sorry, I seem to be running a fraction late.” My professional persona slides into place, hiding the embarrassment heating my face for arriving several minutes late.

“Hi, Ms. Ryder. I’m Noah. No worries, I only just got here myself. I’ll be right out.”

From the fact he’s just arrived, I assume he must be the man that rode the motorbike, and his voice is astounding. It’s like the baritone section of the heavens’ angel choir has taken up residence in his voice box. It’s calming, but at the same time stimulating. My body fires up. Heat pools between my thighs and my nether regions clench in anticipation. My breaths become surprisingly rapid, and thank God I can blame my erect nipples on the air conditioning.

What the hell is wrong with me?

That bloody book has left me wound up. Mentally I chastise myself. I shouldn’t have read it before an interview. It’s not like Mac and I are having sex at the moment. With his behaviour the way it is, it’s been months since I let him touch me like that. Why didn’t I notice sooner? My body should be numb, shouldn’t it? I shouldn’t be reacting this way. It’s got to be the book. It can’t be his voice.

Guilt tightens my stomach. Mac’s my home. Not anymore. The little bitch in me raises her head and digs the knife in my back a little further. At least it’s killing the fuzzy feeling taking over my vagina.

With my back to the workshop entrance, I pretend to be engrossed in the magazines on the glass table, when really I’m fighting to regain some control over my errant body. A latch clicks and someone enters the reception area. I turn in his direction as he starts to speak.

He is… breathtaking.

I imagined the man on the bike would be graced with a nice face, but that doesn’t even come close to describing what’s in front of me. Men like him should be illegal. He’s so attractive I find it difficult to look at him, and have to glance away. I know I’ve got tons of shit going on in my life at the moment, but I’m not dead.

His eyes have the most captivating irises I’ve ever seen. Framed by dark, thick lashes most women would kill for, they appear to be an unusual light hazel colour. But I swear as I take swift glances at them, they darken down to antique bronze. I was right about the dark bed hair. It’s short around the back and sides, but has a floppier, longer top, ruffled in a way that’s just begging for fingers to be run through it. Images of lazy Sundays and crumpled sheets flash through my mind.

His jaw’s strong and covered in scruff. His full lips are smirking slightly, a fine lip ring set to one side. He must be around six foot something, as he towers over my tiny five three height. Broad, strong shoulders and a wide chest taper towards his waist, and the outline of his abs is visible through the black slim-fit long-sleeved T-shirt hugging his torso.

He’s oozing sensuality and self-assurance from his pores, and he’s looking at me like he’s expecting an answer. He was talking when I turned around, wasn’t he?

Shit. What did he say?

He gazes down at me with what looks like heated eyes, but he’s chuckling to himself so it could just be a spark of humour. I’m instantly embarrassed and my cheeks flame. I have no idea what he said and he knows it. Thankfully he takes pity on me.

“I said, ‘hi, Ms. Ryder. I’m Noah. Do you want to come through to my office, or would you rather take the interview out of here?’” A playful grin replaces the smirk.

There’s no mistaking the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. I can almost guarantee he’s just added in the last part. With a face like his, I’m sure he’s no stranger to a woman’s inability to function around him, and the reasons why. It’s also obvious he’s not lacking in confidence.

“Hi, Noah, I’m pleased to meet you. Call me Liz. And yes, let’s get out of here.”

He arches one dark eyebrow at me.

Oh my god, I did not just say that.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that how it sounded, it just slipped out. That’s so unprofessional. I’m so sorry, I meant let’s get out of here… to your office,” I ramble on awkwardly.

I drop my gaze to the floor. The heat inside me is at fever pitch. I’m pretty sure I’m going to spontaneously combust at any second. Noah takes a step into my personal space. His boots are an inch from touching my own, and I can smell his musky aftershave mixed with fabric softener, and a hint of engine oil. Strong fingers touch under my chin and gently nudge my face upwards. I chance a glance at his eyes up-close but they only make my breath hitch. They’re a raging inferno.

“I’ll give you that as a slip-up for now.” His face is so close, his breath caresses my lips. “But I’ll tell you now, so you know, we will be taking this elsewhere.”

My body reacts like it’s been set alight by a torch flame. My temperature increases tenfold, my breaths come faster, shallower, and the fuzzy feeling taking over down below has returned with a vengeance.

Lucifer springs to mind.

This man is dangerous. I step away from him, checking the floor for a puddle as I go. I don’t know what it is about him. Maybe it’s his voice, possibly his hotter-than-hell looks, or perhaps it’s the way he insinuated he wants me? He has made me forget who I am, made me disregard any thoughts of Mac. Totally ignore my life outside this moment. And we have barely said a few words to each other.

This is ridiculous.

I’ve lost my mind; it’s the only explanation. I’m a grown woman for Christ’s sake. I don’t fall for moves like that. I’m coming to the end of a disastrous relationship. I’ve not had sex in months, which sadly I’ve only just realised. It’s just a confidence boost to be flirted with. That must be it. My stupid body may have other ideas, but my mind knows there’s not a hope in Hades of taking this anywhere but his office.

An uncertain smile and what can only be described as a confused look takes over his features. It’s out of place on such a confident man. But it diffuses just as quickly as it came, replaced again by the signature smirk.

“Come on, Lizzie. I’ll take you through to my office so we can do the interview, and then I’ll show you around the workshop if you’d like.”

Lizzie? He puts his hand on my lower back to guide me through the workshop to his office. The contact sends fireworks through my body. Sparks spread like tree branches from the point where his hand rests, diffusing any thoughts of questioning him about my name. As if my life is not a big enough mess, I realise I’m in trouble when it comes to Noah Hamilton. He’s a distraction I don’t need, and I know I’m going to have to fight with my own body, tooth and nail, to behave.

What I really struggle to comprehend is why I don’t find his strong approach threatening, especially with Mac’s behaviour being the way it is. But I don’t.

If any other man had approached me in the same manner, I would’ve been appalled. Maybe they would’ve gotten a slap across the face. I certainly would have given them a mouthful. So why not him?

It’s that bloody book. I shrug the episode off and put on my big girl knickers and professional face as I enter Noah’s office.

I ENTER MY office with the gorgeous Lizzie. My heart thuds hard in my chest.

What in the hell was that, apart from inappropriate behaviour and a court case waiting to happen?

I’m pretty sure my brain has fucked off. I’ve never, and I mean never, reacted to any woman like that. I’m all for women’s rights and all that namby-pamby shit. Why couldn’t I stop myself? I’ve never felt a draw like it. It’s almost primal.