Her breathing was deep and slow, she was clearly not about to wake. He wondered if she was late for something but then recalled her saying that she was just in her office all day and making it a priority to find an assistant.

Damn, he hoped he could see her again, preferably that night. They had to make the most of his time in London. Would she enjoy the theatre? He thought she might. His friend worked at the box office at the Apollo—maybe he should take her there? Then afterwards for drinks at The Ritz, that would be special and fun.

He smoothed his hand over her shoulder, beneath the duvet and onto the first rise of her hip.

God, her body was flawless. Whether she was in sexy tight jeans, a figure-hugging dress, seriously sexy underwear or naked, it all worked for him.

It was no good. He’d have to get into a cold shower.

Very carefully he unwound himself from her, resting her arm on a pillow where his body had been and pulling the duvet up to her neck to keep her warm.

For a moment he stared down at her. She looked good in his bed—dark hair fanning her face, sultry lips parted a fraction and limbs and hips creating gentle hills beneath the duvet.

Maybe he should shower then make her breakfast in bed. There were long-stemmed red flowers in the back garden, the same red as her sexy lipstick. He’d pick one to put on the tray and show her his romantic side.

Yep, that’s what he’d do.

He crept from the room and shut the door with a quiet click. There was pineapple juice in the fridge, and he’d bought croissants yesterday—he could warm a couple in the oven.

Then after breakfast, perhaps, if she were as willing, he’d crawl into bed with her again for a repeat performance of last night. Grant would just have to cope. It was only wrapping up, he’d done it a million times—he could hold the fort until James rolled out of bed.

He yanked on the shower tap and switched it to cold. “Damn it,” he muttered, stepping beneath the flow. Luckily the icy water dampened down his desire.

He reached for the shampoo and scrubbed at his hair, rinsing in the chilly spray. Then he covered himself with shower gel and created a lather. Megan smelt so sweet all over, he reckoned she must use fruity soap.

Damn it, now he was fantasising and remembering the night before. He was never going to get control of himself if memories kept besieging him like this.

He pressed his palms to the shower wall and let the water beat down on his shoulders. He took several deep breaths and went through a mental list of all the things he needed to achieve at the studio that day.