the bed, slipped her arms through her wrap and tied it around her body. She came over to where he was sitting, picked up the damp towel and held it between two fingers. ‘Do you ever spare a thought for the person who has to come in and service your room?’
‘What?’ He glanced at her then, his expression still dark with a frown.
‘You leave stuff everywhere. The least you could do is hang your towel up or leave it in the tub or the shower cubicle if you’re not going to use it again.’ She put her hands on her hips and glowered at him. ‘Stop typing when I’m talking to you!’
‘You’re not talking to me, you’re nagging me.’
‘Yes, well, that’s what wives are forced to do, because their lazy husbands don’t see the hours of invisible work that goes on behind the scenes to keep a house running smoothly.’
He rose to his feet and Angelique took a little step back. Without her heels he towered over her and she had to crick her neck to keep eye contact. His expression was mocking as he looked down at her. ‘And just how many houses have you run, ma chérie?’
She pursed her lips. ‘I’m just saying...’
He held her gaze for a long moment. He seemed to be thinking about something. She could see his mouth shifting from side to side in a contemplative manner. ‘Can you cook?’
‘Yes. I’ve been to cookery schools in France, Italy and Thailand. Why?’
‘Would you cook a dinner for me?’
Angelique frowned. ‘What, you mean every day, like in a traditional marriage?’
‘No, nothing like that. I want to entertain Robert Mappleton—you know, the guy I’ve been trying to win over? He’s ultra-conservative and traditional. He’s been wined and dined thousands of times in the best restaurants across the globe. What I think would really impress him is a home-cooked dinner in a private setting. Will you do it?’
She caught her lower lip between her teeth. The sooner she helped Remy nail his deal, the sooner they could go their separate ways. That certainly wasn’t half as attractive as it had been a day or so ago. She had her own contract to consider now. Would the top-end designers currently courting her still want her if she was divorced?
Probably not.
‘Which private setting did you have in mind?’
‘Tarrantloch.’
Angelique glared at him. ‘You insensitive bastard!’
‘What?’
She narrowed her gaze to slits. ‘You really are the most unfeeling jerk I’ve ever come across. How much more do you want to rub my nose in it? You stole my house and now you want me to play the 1950s housewife in it? Arrggh!’
‘I guess that’s a no?’
Angelique glowered at him. ‘You’re damn right it’s a no. How could you be so cruel?’
‘I was actually thinking of you,’ he said. ‘I thought you’d be more comfortable cooking in a familiar kitchen.’
‘I’d be more comfortable if the deeds to my home were back in my hands where they belong.’
He gave her a dry look. ‘Then perhaps you need to work on charming me into changing my mind, ma petite, hmm?’
Angelique felt a traitorous spurt of longing assail her. How did he do that to her with just one look? Those dark eyes smouldered and she was instantly aflame. How was she going to resist him when all she wanted was to be back in his arms?
But she wasn’t going to let him know that.
She narrowed her eyes even further. ‘Are you blackmailing me?’
‘I prefer to call it negotiating.’
‘Negotiating my foot! You want me to sleep with you. Why don’t you come right out and say it?’
His eyes scorched hers. ‘I want to sleep with you.’