LITMIR.BIZ

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her capabilities as an office assistant, but it did make Natalie wonder why she’d been hired. She’d have thought Sartain, as an artist, would have better taste.

      And if she could read my thoughts, she’d realize that I can be bitchier than her any day. After all, I learned from the best.

      “Why don’t you start by showing me around the offices?” Natalie said, adopting a businesslike tone. “Then we can take a look at the rest of the castle.”

      Laura opened her mouth as if to make another cutting remark, but apparently thought better of it. “This is the main office. My desk is over there, but there’s a private room for you.”

      She was explaining the multi-line phone system when the door to the offices burst open, slamming back against the wall.

      “Laura, where the hell is that cadmium yellow I ordered two days ago?” Sartain bellowed. He glanced at Natalie, but didn’t acknowledge her, focusing once more on Laura. “How am I supposed to finish this commission in time when I don’t have the damn paint I need? Is it too much to ask that when I order something it be delivered on time?”

      Laura hunched her shoulders and her voice assumed a simpering quality that made Natalie’s ears hurt. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Sartain. I’ll call right away and have them trace the order.”

      “I don’t give a damn about the order. I need that paint now! Find some, if you have to drive into Denver and get it yourself.”

      “Yes, Mr. Sartain. I’ll certainly do that.” She scurried away.

      Sartain turned to Natalie. “What are you staring at?” He gestured after the other woman. “Go help her find that paint.”

      Natalie shook her head. “Oh, I think one person can handle that job all right.”

      “I didn’t ask you what you thought!” Sartain roared. “I’m not paying you to think.” He stepped toward her, his voice menacing. “Find. Me. That. Paint.”

      She brought her hands up between them and began clapping. “Bravo. You do that very well. And if I hadn’t already seen dozens of better tantrums I might even be intimidated.”

      The muscles of his jaw bulged as he ground his teeth together, and the pulse at his temple pounded. Natalie’s heart sped up, though she held her ground and forced herself to remain calm. How she responded to this outburst would set the tone for all such future interactions. She intended to maintain the upper hand.

      Sartain took a step back, and when he spoke again his voice was softer, though still with an edge of menace. “I don’t frighten you?”

      She shook her head. “No. And despite what you think, the world won’t end if you have to wait until tomorrow for a tube of cadmium yellow.”

      “How can you say that? I have a painting to complete that is due at the printer’s next week. I’m not some machine. I can’t turn talent on and off according to a schedule. I can’t be expected…”

      As his voice rose he began to flail his arms, in full rant mode. Natalie folded her arms across her chest and nodded, waiting for him to wind down. There was something impressive about his passion for the subject, something almost sexual about the way his eyes dilated and his breathing deepened, the muscles of his arms and shoulders knotting beneath his plain dark cotton shirt.

      As he was winding down, she noticed Laura hovering in the doorway. “Yes, Laura, what did you find out?” she asked.

      Laura’s gaze darted to Sartain, then back to Natalie. “I tracked the shipment and it should arrive this afternoon. But there’s a store in Denver that has it in stock. I could drive in and get it.”

      “And by the time you got back, the other shipment would probably have been delivered,” Natalie pointed out.

      Sartain studied her. “What am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

      Natalie shrugged. “You could show me your castle.”

      He blinked. “You want me to play tour guide?”

      “Or you could return to your studio and practice for your next outburst.”

      Amusement edged out anger in his eyes, though his expression remained stern. “Perhaps you can give me some pointers while I show you around.”

      He turned and started out of the room, but Natalie put a hand out to stop him. “First, you need to apologize to Laura for shouting at her and thank her for tracking the shipment.”

      His eyes widened. “You want me to do what?”

      “You need to apologize to Laura and thank her for tracking the shipment.”

      His jaw tightened and for a moment she feared he would launch into another tantrum. Instead, he shook his head and turned to Laura. “Thank you for tracking down the shipment,” he said, with more feeling than Natalie had expected. “And I apologize for making you the target of my wrath.” He shifted his gaze to Natalie. “Next time, my business manager will be the one to answer to me.”

      This time, Natalie followed him from the office. He said nothing until they were in the hallway leading to the main salon. “I suppose you’re proud of yourself, scolding me like a schoolboy in front of my secretary.”

      “She told me she was your personal assistant.”

      “She prefers that title.” His lips quirked up in a partial smile. “Given the opportunity, I believe she’d like to place the emphasis on personal.”

      Natalie glared at him. “Do you expect me to be impressed that some bimbo is throwing herself at you?”

      He stopped abruptly, so that she stumbled into him. She braced her hands against his chest, aware of the taut muscle beneath the thin fabric of the shirt, and pulled back as if burned.

      “What does impress you?” he asked. “What kind of man impresses you?”

      She frowned. “I don’t think that’s really any concern of yours.”

      “No, but I’m curious.” He closed the gap between them. “You were very cool and collected in the office just now, but I sense something more beneath the surface. Feelings a great deal…warmer.”

      She raised her eyes to meet his, silently warning him to back off. “Doug warned me you like to pretend you know what people are thinking. In my case, you’re wrong.” She’d had years of practice at keeping her passions tamped down. There was no reason that should change around John Sartain, a man who seemed not to know the meaning of self-control.

      She wanted to slap the smile from his face, even as her body responded to the invitation in his eyes. From the articles she’d read and the few minutes she’d spent in his company, he came across as someone who was both exasperating and fascinating. He was handsome, intelligent, talented, powerful and entirely unpredictable. The combination was almost irresistible to a woman who had spent her life in a world where every routine was choreographed down to when to take a breath.

      “I like that you won’t answer all my questions,” he said. “I never know these days if people are agreeing with me because they truly share my opinions, or because they want to stay on the good side of a very rich man. But you don’t leave any doubt as to your opinion of me.”

      “I didn’t say anything about you,” she protested. “I only refused to answer a personal question.”

      “You said everything I need to know with your eyes and the way you hold your head. In fact, your whole body is communicating what you think of me.” He laughed. “You think I’m a spoiled, selfish, intemperate hedonist.”

      Give the man an A for perceptiveness. But how much of a stretch had it been, anyway? “As far as I can tell, you go out of your way to promote that image of yourself—as the satyr your detractors call you.”

      He nodded, then turned away. “Come, I’ll show you my studio. Maybe you’ll see another

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