Because You Are Mine (Because You Are Mine #1)(10)

Lucien’s mouth twisted into a bitter grin. “Perhaps it’s best that I just buy Fusion from you as soon as possible so that neither of us have to worry about it.”

They both started when a knock was heard on the door to the fencing room.

“Yes?” Ian called, his brows slanted in puzzlement. Mrs. Hanson usually didn’t bother him during his workout. The knowledge that he wouldn’t be interrupted helped him to find a zone of total concentration on both his fencing and exercise routines.

He went still in amazement when Francesca entered the room. Her long hair was loosely restrained at the back of her head. A few strands of it brushed her neck and cheeks. She wore not a smudge of makeup, a pair of formfitting jeans, a shapeless hooded sweatshirt, and a pair of gray-and-white running shoes. The shoes weren’t the highest quality, but Ian quickly appraised that they were the most expensive item she wore. At the opening of her jacket, he saw the thin strap of another tank top. The image of her supple body outlined in the tight garment zoomed into his brain.

“Francesca. What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice unintentionally sharp in annoyance at the vivid, uncontrollable memory. She paused several feet from the fencing mat. The lushness of her pink lips made even her frowns sexy as hell.

“Lin needs to speak with you about something urgent. You weren’t answering your cell phone, so she called the house line. Mrs. Hanson was on the way out to the store to get a few missing ingredients for your supper, so I said I’d come give the message.”

Ian nodded once, using the towel he’d draped around his neck to wipe some perspiration off his face. “I’ll call her as soon as I shower.”

“I’ll tell her,” Francesca said, starting to back out of the room.

“What? She’s still on the line?”

Francesca nodded.

“There’s an extension in the hall just outside the exercise facility. Tell her I’ll call her back soon.”

“All right,” Francesca said. She glanced quickly at Lucien and gave him a fleeting smile before she turned.

Irritation spiked through him. Well, in all fairness, Lucien didn’t bark at her like you did.

“Francesca.”

She spun around.

“Would you come back once you’ve passed the message to Lin, please? We haven’t had the opportunity to speak much all week. I’d like to hear about your progress.”

She hesitated for a split second. Her gaze dropped over his chest, making him go still in sudden awareness.

“Sure. I’ll be right back,” she said before she strode out of the room. The door to the fencing room clicked shut behind her.

Lucien was grinning when he glanced over at him. “When I visited the American south, they had a saying . . . ‘A long, tall drink of cool water.’”

Ian did a double take. “Hands off,” he said succinctly.

Lucien looked taken aback. Ian blinked, a mixture of primitive aggression and shame at the harshness warring in his blood. Something occurred to him, and he narrowed his eyes.

“Wait a second . . . the woman you were talking about just now that works for Noble—”

“Not Francesca,” Lucien said, his eyes gleaming as he gave Ian a sideways glance and opened the refrigerator for a bottle of water. “Seems to me you ought to take your own advice about intercompany romantic interests.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“So you’re not interested in that gorgeous creature?” Lucien asked.

Ian whipped the towel off his neck.

“I meant that I don’t have an employment contract,” he said, his brisk tone making it clear the conversation was over.

“I guess that’s my cue to leave,” Lucien said wryly. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Lucien.”

He turned.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” Ian said.

Lucien shrugged. “I know what it means to be on a tight leash. Tends to make a man a bit . . . tetchy.”

Ian didn’t respond, just watched as his friend walked away. He thought of what Lucien had said about Francesca being a long, tall drink of cool water. Lucien had been right.

And Ian was clearly thirsting in the desert.

He glanced toward the entry door warily and saw Francesca walk back into the room.

* * *

She was sorry to see Lucien give her a friendly wave and walk out of the room when she entered. The atmosphere of the large, well-equipped exercise room grew heavier when the door closed behind him and she was left alone with Ian. She paused at the edge of the mat.

“Come closer. It’s all right. You can walk across the piste in your running shoes,” he said.

She approached him cautiously. It made her uncomfortable to look at him. His handsome face was impassive, as usual. He looked ungodly sexy wearing a pair of formfitting breeches and a simple white T-shirt. She supposed it was necessary for the shirt to be so tight because he wore other fitted garments over it. It left little to the imagination, revealing every ridge and slanting line of his lean, muscular torso.

Obviously, working out was a high priority to him. His body was a beautiful, honed machine.

“Piste?” she repeated as she crossed the mat and neared him.

“The fencing mat.”

“Oh.” She eyed the sword on the table curiously, trying to ignore the subtle scent emanating from his body—clean, spicy soap mingling with male sweat.