She looked down her nose at him, literally, since she was still lying back on the floor and wishing the ground would swallow her up. Particularly as the eyes spearing her were far too attractive and far too hard all at once.
Get with it, Sophia.
She cleared her throat and rolled onto her knees, mimicking his daughter’s method, only she was very much focused on tugging her dress as low as possible over her behind and doing her utmost to avoid not only his eye but his entire body.
Even in his crouched position he exuded a panther-like grace. All power, sinew and strength, in a dark suit complete with tie...and the effect he was having on her pulse really wasn’t helping her focus on words. Words of any shape or form.
‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr McGregor,’ she said, finally standing and lifting her gaze, only to wish she’d kept it lowered. Yes, she knew he was a widower. Yes, she knew he was the father to a young daughter. Yes, she knew he had a reputation for being a bit of a looker. But for some reason she’d had him pegged as being older, his reputation stemming from money and power, not a seriously impressive frame and a face that belonged on the cover of a magazine.
His body too, she was sure—
She swallowed and cut the thought dead. It was entirely inappropriate and in no way helping her function in a manner befitting her professional role. He was a guest for goodness’ sake, a very important guest, the kind she should be impressing, not... What exactly was she doing?
‘Jack.’ He offered his hand and she jumped a little.
Great. Now she just looked scared. And judging by the way his brow lifted and his lips—his very full and teasing lips—quirked he’d not missed her overreaction either. Even better...
‘Sophia.’ She forced a smile and quickly slotted her hand in his, but his eyes stayed locked with hers, their intensity making her feel exposed, as if he could read every debauched thought racing through her mind and her cheeks flushed all over again.
Another swallow, another breath and a shake of the hand. At least she hoped she’d shaken it because the warmth zinging along her fingers, through her wrist, her arm and settling somewhere around her tummy made it hard to focus on the actual giving of a handshake.
He didn’t seem disturbed though; his eyes were sharp as they assessed her. For what she couldn’t really tell, but she had a fair idea what a panther’s prey felt like seconds before it pounced.
Maybe it was his unruly dark hair, the rich colour to his skin and the slant to his dramatic grey eyes that had her heading down the wild-cat route. Whatever the case, she was off on some weird tangent where professionalism continued to evade her.
‘I like Sphea. Can she come for tea, Daddy?’
What? No! Sophia’s laugh came out a strangled mess, thankfully drowned out by a sudden bellow from the man before her. So the panther was capable of laughter. Fascinating. And distracting. Especially when she should be drawing a line under that right now. She did not socialise, fraternise or any other ise with the clientele.
‘I think Sphea has far more important things to be taking care of...’
The way he mimicked his daughter’s pronunciation of her name had her entire insides turning to mush and she opened her mouth to agree but nothing came out.
‘Unless, of course, that is not the case?’
He turned to pin her with that far too astute gaze. ‘Then you would be more than welcome this evening, as a thank you for finding my little runaway.’
Sophia looked from him to the little girl staring imploringly up at her, eyes the colour of her father’s, and erupted in a nervous giggle which she abruptly quit as her eyes caught sight of Andrew in the open doorway. He was positively beaming, reading whatever he fancied into her crazed behaviour. Great.
She would sort that, just as soon as she turned down Mr McGregor’s very kind and far too appealing offer. But how exactly could she turn down their most lucrative customer without causing offence?
Stick to work—something he’d understand...
* * *
What are you doing, Jack?
Looking down into the alluring blue gaze of Sophia Lambert, he really had no idea. She was the hotel manager, not some new friend his daughter had taken a shine to. He blamed the crazy suggestion entirely on Lily of course. If she hadn’t put the idea out there, he certainly wouldn’t have thought of it and he definitely wouldn’t have found it as appealing as he did.
Hot off the back of the little display that had greeted him when he’d first entered the conference room, he wasn’t so certain he was thinking with his brain either. Two slender calves, a pair of stilettos and the knowledge that the woman had got down to his daughter’s level, no airs and graces, tugged at him even now.
Sophia blinked, and blinked again, her cheeks a delightful shade of pink as her eyes adjusted to some unknown thought and then she drew in a breath and crouched down to Lily’s height.
His view was reduced to her auburn hair, knotted high, her escaped curls that brushed over the creamy skin at her nape and the dusting of freckles that disappeared into the high neck of her navy dress. He cleared his throat, surprised to find his mouth as dry as the Sahara.
‘It’s so kind of you to offer, Lily,’ she said softly, ‘but I’m afraid I need to work.’
‘Now you sound like Daddy.’