unfinished

chapter 9

Before Isabelle reached the door she heard a low voice call her name. She sighed in defeat. She did not want company tonight. She would just tell him that.

She opened the door to find Rege leaning against the door frame, a bottle of wine in one hand, two glasses in the other.

He had shed his coat and tie. The French cuffs of his still crisp white shirt had been rolled up, a perfect showcase for the toned muscle and veins of his forearms. The soft drape of his pants highlighted his trim waist and long legs. She knew without looking that they would show his backside to great advantage as well.

A couple of months ago, she knew where this would have led. Right now, she felt only mild irritation.

" You have studied those reports enough," he said, the clip of his accent more pronounced to her after hearing other voices all day. " It's time for a break!"

He slipped past her into the room without her invitation. She frowned as she watched him place the wine and glasses on the low table, noting the way the pants and shirt tightened as he moved, reminding her of how disciplined he was with his workouts, and the evidence of that in his body.

He turned to face her, his smile aimed to charm her into letting down her guard.

The smile faltered when he got a good look at her in the well-worn sweats, her hair in a careless bun.

" What the hell are you wearing?" he asked, " This is certainly not what I expected you to bring for your nightwear."

He quirked a brow at her, and the look he gave her had her blushing deep red.

He was intentionally bringing to mind the handful of times he had joined her in her room on a trip, or even of the time he took her home after the Christmas party.

Rege had seen her in , and out of, the very finest lingerie. Apparently, her sweats did not meet his expectations. Good. It was really not his concern anymore.

'"I was not expecting a guest," she said, her meaning ringing clear in those words.

He ignored both the statement and the look on her face.

He turned and flung open the doors to the large closet and began looking through the clothes she had brought.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her anger rising.

"Seeing what other " surprises" you have in here," he said, his voice muffled.

He stepped out of the closet, holding a leather jacket and slim skirt.

" Here, wear this tomorrow. They are much more sophisticated here than I thought, and we must make an impression when it is our turn to present tomorrow," he lectured.

She stalked to him, and took the clothing from his hands and jammed it back inside the closet, firmly closing the doors and gesturing toward the door.

" They are incredibly sophisticated, which is why we are trying to break into this market. I brought one of my own designs to wear tomorrow," she said, her temper flashing in her eyes. He knew he had made a mistake and tried to apologize, but she gave him no chance.

" I do not need you to approve my wardrobe. You should leave now," she finished, her anger giving way to exhaustion.

" Izzy...." He said, stepping toward her and cupping her shoulders with his large hands, standing so close the heat of him rolled over her. She placed her hand on his chest to push back a bit, to find some breathing room. It always seemed to start this way.