re in with the electrical goods, aisle eight.” My voice is a little too bright. I glance up at him and regret it almost immediately. Damn, he’s handsome. I blush.
“After you,” he murmurs, gesturing with his long-fingered, beautifully manicured hand.
With my heart almost strangling me – because it’s in my throat trying to escape from my mouth – I head down one of the aisles to the electrical section. Why is he in Portland? Why is he here at Clayton’s? And from a very tiny, underused part of my brain – probably located at the base of my medulla oblongata where my subconscious dwells – comes the thought: he’s here to see you. No way! I dismiss it immediately. Why would this beautiful, powerful, urbane man want to see me? The idea is preposterous, and I kick it out of my head.
“Are you in Portland on business?” I ask, and my voice is too high, like I’ve got my finger trapped in a door or something. Damn! Try to be cool Ana!
“I was visiting the WSU farming pision. It’s based at Vancouver. I’m currently funding some research there in crop rotation and soil science,” he says matter-of-factly. See? Not here to find you at all, my subconscious sneers at me, loud, proud, and pouty. I flush at my foolish wayward thoughts.
“All part of your feed-the-world plan?” I tease.
“Something like that,” he acknowledges, and his lips quirk up in a half smile.
He gazes at the selection of cable ties we stock at Clayton’s. What on Earth is he going to do with those? I cannot picture him as a do-it-yourselfer at all. His fingers trail across the various packages displayed, and for some inexplicable reason, I ha一ve to look away. He bends and selects a packet.
“These will do,” he says with his oh-so-secret smile, and I blush.
“Is there anything else?”
“I’d like some masking tape.”
Masking tape?
“Are you redecorating?” The words are out before I can stop them. Surely he hires laborers or has staff to help him decorate?
“No, not redecorating,” he says quickly then smirks, and I ha一ve the uncanny
本章未完，点击下一页继续阅读。