Unexpectedly Expecting the Sheik's Baby - Elizabeth Lennox Page 0,67
disdain for decades of loyalty and service had caused Ella to despise people with a disproportionate amount of wealth. They had too much power and, in most cases, wielded that power with contemptuous disregard for anyone outside of their social circle.
But staring up at this imposing building, Ella felt…something. Something strange that…well, it wasn’t important, she thought. “He’s just compensating,” she muttered.
“What do you suspect I’m compensating for?” a deep voice asked fom behind her.
Startled, Ella swung around, finding Malcolm Reynolds much closer than she’d anticipated. Much closer and…had he grown a few inches over the past few days? The man was crazy tall! Well over six feet. Ella was five feet, seven inches, so she was relatively tall for a woman. Plus she’d worn black boots with three inch heels. But good grief! Malcolm Reynolds still towered over her!
“What are you doing out here?” she gasped, stepping back to put some space between them.
Those cobalt blue eyes sparkled with amusement, the corners crinkling enticingly. “Am I not supposed to be outside?”
Her eyes narrowed as she realized that he was teasing her. “You’re supposed to be inside, destroying people’s lives,” she retorted with a defiant lift of her chin.
“Ah,” he laughed, leaning back slightly. “Well, I broke up ten families this morning, so I thought I’d take a break. Would you like to come inside?” he offered. “We can throw a dart on the wall and see who I should destroy this afternoon. Would be fun….”
Ella bristled at his tone. “This is funny to you?” she demanded, her temper increasing with his mocking attitude.
“A little,” he replied with a soft chuckle, putting a hand to the small of her back as he led her into the building. “I think that you are a brilliant reporter, Ella. I’ve followed your career over the years and I’ve been impressed with not only by your bravery at reporting on horrible situations, but also your talent at conveying those issues.”
He pressed a button on the elevator and, almost immediately, the elevator appeared. With that hand still at her back, he nudged her into the elevator and, they rose. Since this was a glass elevator that looked out at the city, Ella automatically stepped away from the glass and the scary heights. Unfortunately, she stepped back…against him. For a stolen instant, she could feel the hard muscles of his chest against her back and his strong arms around her waist. It was a shocking but pleasant sensation and, since it had been a long time since she’d even kissed a man, it took her a moment to pull away.
“Sorry,” she muttered, jerking away from him. But she didn’t move too far. The glass of the elevator might be thick, but she didn’t trust anything to keep her safe this high above the ground. Unfortunately, that left her standing awkwardly in the middle of the elevator and she almost jumped through the doors when they finally opened on the executive floor.
Breathing deeply, she looked around, trying to calm her racing nerves. Obviously, Ella wasn’t a huge fan of heights and she looked up at Malcolm, bracing herself for his amusement at her expense.
“This way,” he said and gestured towards one end of the elegantly decorated hallway. No jokes about her fear of heights? No pity or laughter in his eyes? Ella was confused because…he wasn’t going to laugh at her?
Reluctantly grateful, Ella followed him down the elegantly decorated hallway, looking around, trying to take in everything as she passed. Feelings, smells, other people’s expressions. Everything would be included in her story.
Malcolm paused at an older woman’s desk. “Nancy, would you order some lunch for us? We’re going to be a while.”
Ella frowned. “I’m not staying for lunch,” she told him, even though she was famished. She’d skipped breakfast this morning, wanting to check in with her editor before coming to meet with Malcolm.
Nancy ignored Ella and nodded to her boss before turning back to her computer. Order lunch online? That would be excellent! Ella had been out of the country for so long, living in mud huts, tin-roofed houses, or tents…none of which had had reliable internet service. She’d read articles about these conveniences, but since she’d only been back in London for a few days, she hadn’t experienced the glory of ordering food from one’s phone and having it delivered, hot and yummy, to one’s doorstep. Her idea of convenience over the past few years was picking ripe fruit from a tree.