"What does she want?" I'm in no mood to talk to anyone. Maybe I should go home and sleep for a century or so, until everyone has forgotten what an arse I am.
"I'm not sure," Trudy says. "But she insists on seeing you immediately."
"Fine. Send her in." I sit up straighter and take a deep breath, steeling myself against whatever might come next.
The door opens, and a beautiful brunette walks into my office. Her hips sway slightly, and the modest heels she wears show off her slender ankles. As she approaches the chair in front of my desk, I can't stop myself from admiring the swell of her hips and the mounds of her breasts, though her businesswoman outfit doesn't let me see much of those mounds. Her cleavage teases me with only a glimpse of their slopes.
She leans over my desk just enough to offer me her hand to shake. "Good morning, Lord Sommerleigh. I'm Avery Hahn."
The sexy woman is American.
I rise from my chair and shake her hand. "Good morning, Miss Hahn."
"Ms. Hahn, not Miss." She settles her shapely arse onto the chair. Only now do I realize she holds two objects in her left hand—a small brown purse and a matching leather portfolio. "Please take a seat, Lord Sommerleigh. We have a great deal to discuss."
"Have we?" I sit down. "What can I do for you?"
It's more a question of what I can dotoher, but I shouldn't be thinking about sex. Mum was right. I need to change my behavior.
Avery Hahn sets her purse on the floor and lays the leather portfolio on her thigh. Then she flips the posh folder open, plucking a ballpoint pen out of it. She taps the tip of that pen on the pad of paper inside her portfolio. "Your mother hired me to fix you."
"Fix me? I don't understand."
"You have made a fool of yourself and become a laughingstock. Is that how you want the world to see the Viscount Sommerleigh?"
"No, of course not. But I can manage my life on my own. Don't need your help. No offense."
"You can't offend me. I've heard everything in my line of work." She tips her head to the side and seems to be studying me. "Why do you call yourself Lord Steamy?"
"I didn't invent the nickname. Some silly bird coined it."
"But you do use the name when you're flirting with women. Correct?"
How does she know that? Well, Mum sent her, so…Bloody hell. Did someone tell my mother about that?
"I'll take your silence as a yes."
While she goes on staring at me, I notice the color of her eyes. They're so blue they seem almost purple. I've never seen eyes that shade before. It's stunning.Sheis stunning, from her fingernails that are painted a pale shade of pink to her hip-hugging skirt and those perfect lips. She painted them a deep burgundy, which makes me want to kiss her for some reason. I want to kiss every beautiful woman I meet, so I suppose it's no mystery why I feel that way now.
But that impulse might be part of my problem.
Avery jots something down on her notepad.
"What are you writing there?" I ask.
"Notes about you, of course." She crosses her legs, which makes her skirt ride up a sliver, showing off more of her creamy skin. "What did Lady Sommerleigh tell you?"
"That she was sending me a gift." I can't help eying her with a touch of suspicion. "What exactly did Mum tell you to do with me?"
"Your reputation is in tatters. I'm here to save it."
I notice she didn't say she means to saveme. She plans on saving "it," as in the reputation of the sodding Viscount Sommerleigh. "Since I never had a reputation to start with, you are wasting your time."
"Oh, no, you can't chase me away. Your mother insisted I need to stick to you like glue until you can show your face in public again without embarrassing yourself, your family, or the Sommerleigh name." She pulls a folded sheet of paper out of a pocket in her portfolio. "You can't escape your mistakes, Lord Sommerleigh."
"Please stop calling me that. I'm just Hugh."
"Afraid I can't use your first name. Lady Sommerleigh was explicit in her instructions to me. I will refer to you only as Lord Sommerleigh."