His one-word question and the area that his twinkling eyes are focused on pulls my eyes downward. Yes, I am, and it’s plain to see, but my chilly ni**les start to tingle with something other than coldness as I remain under his examination. ‘A little,’ I concede, cupping my boobs, hiding them from view. ‘Where’s Nan?’

‘Downstairs.’

‘Are you okay?’

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ He’s calm and collected, not displaying any signs of unease after dealing with my protective grandmother.

‘Well, because . . . it’s just . . .’ I stutter and stammer all over my words, stupidly uncomfortable. This is ridiculous. I roll my eyes and drop my hands. ‘What did she say?’

‘You mean while she was tapping her biggest carving knife on the table?’

‘She wasn’t,’ I laugh, but halt my nervous giggling when Miller remains completely serious. ‘Was she?’

He tucks his phone into the inside pocket of his jacket and stands, resting his hands in his trouser pockets. ‘Olivia, I’m not prepared to go any further with this line of conversation while you’re wet and naked.’ He shakes his head, like he’s shaking away wicked thoughts. He probably is. ‘Either get dressed or shimmy that gorgeous little body over here so I can taste it.’

My spine lengthens and I fight off the shots of desire that fire like bullets across the room, from Miller to me. ‘You wouldn’t disrespect my nan,’ I stupidly remind him.

‘That was before she threatened to remove my manhood.’

I laugh. He’s serious and there’s no question that Nan was, too. ‘So now the rule doesn’t apply?’

He pouts, a wicked glint in his stunning eyes. ‘I’ve assessed and mitigated the risks associated with worshipping you in your nan’s home.’

‘You have?’

‘Yes, and the best thing is that you can put measures in place to lower a risk.’ He’s talking like he’s negotiating a business transaction again.

‘Like what?’

Miller’s lovely lips press into a straight line as he considers my question; then he wanders over to my chair and picks it up. ‘Excuse me,’ he says, waiting for me to move from the door, which I do without complaint, watching in amusement as he wedges the top of the backrest under the handle. ‘I believe we may be close to a risk-free worshipping session.’ A huge smile spreads across my face as I watch him checking the stability of the chair before he jiggles the handle. ‘Yes,’ he concludes on a satisfied nod of his handsome head. ‘I believe I’ve covered every eventuality.’ He turns towards me and spends a few moments burning my na**d skin with his scorching gaze. ‘Now I get to taste you.’

My libido responds fast. I’m in full-on responsive mode, and I’m delighted to see Miller is, too. I can see the evidence through his trousers.

‘Olivia!’ Nan’s screech slices straight through the sexual tension and kills it dead. ‘Olivia, I’m putting on a white wash. You have any?’ The creaking floorboards indicate her close proximity.

‘Fucking perfect,’ Miller grumbles with one hundred per cent frustration. ‘Just . . . f**king . . . perfect.’

I grin and dip to retrieve my towel. ‘You missed a risk,’ I muse, wrapping myself up.

Adjusting his groin area, he drills holes into me, unmistakably unamused. ‘I didn’t anticipate a white-wash day.’ He removes the chair from the door and pulls it open, revealing Nan with her arms full of white material. Miller plasters an insincere smile on his face, but it’s still a smile and it’s still relatively rare, even if it’s fake. Not that Nan would know. ‘You should have someone to do that for you, Mrs Taylor.’

‘Pfft! You rich people!’ She shoos him out of the way and stalks around my room, collecting anything white on her travels. ‘I’m not scared of hard work.’

‘Neither is Miller,’ I pipe up. ‘He cleans and cooks.’

Nan halts, shuffling the masses of white material between her arms. ‘Oh, so it’s just my age that suggests I should have some help, then, hmmm?’

I smirk when I see Nan hit Miller with a contemptuous look, making him shift awkwardly on his expensive shoes. ‘Not at all,’ he says, flicking pleading eyes to mine. I’m smug. Now he’s getting the gist. She can be a pain in the royal arse and I’ll remind him of this little scene when he chastises me for saying it as it is. ‘I didn’t mean to—’

‘Save it, mister,’ she spits, marching past him and giving me a devious wink. Then she stops in front of me and runs old eyes up and down my white towel. The one that’s covering my dignity. ‘I’m doing whites,’ she muses, holding back an impish grin.

‘Well this can go in the next load.’ I pull my towel in, narrowing my eyes in warning.

‘But this doesn’t make a full load.’ She gestures to the pile of washing in her arms with a minuscule nod of her head. ‘It’ll be a terrible waste of water and energy. I should fill the machine.’

My lips purse and hers curve. ‘You should fill your mouth so you can’t speak,’ I retort, making her grin widen. She’s incorrigible, the old minx.

‘Miller!’ she gasps. ‘Do you hear how she speaks to an old lady?’

‘I do, Mrs Taylor,’ he replies speedily, rounding her short, plump body until he’s standing behind me, looking at Nan’s now serious face over my shoulder. She’s a bugger, playing the old, sweet lady. I know better, and I’ll make sure Miller does, too. He bends and rests his chin next to my ear, his arm curling around my waist so his hand is splayed on my towel-covered tummy. ‘I have an apple in the car that’ll fit your mouth perfectly. Should do the trick.’

‘Ha!’ I laugh.

She gasps in horror, her face contorting in irritation. ‘Well!’

‘Well what?’ I ask. ‘Quit the defenceless old bird act, Nan. It’s past its sell-by date.’

She huffs and puffs on the spot, looking back and forth to me and Miller, whose chin is still settled on my bare shoulder. I take his hand on my tummy and squeeze, craning my head to get his delicious face in eyeshot. He smiles brightly and kisses me hard on the lips.

‘Respect!’ Nan squawks, snapping us out of our moment. ‘Give me that!’ She yanks the towel from my body.

‘Nan!’

She starts laughing menacingly as she bunches it up with the existing pile. ‘That’ll teach ya!’

‘Shit!’ I grab the first available thing in sight to cover my modesty . . . which happens to be Miller’s hands.

‘Oh!’ Nan bends over, chuckling uncontrollably as I slap Miller’s palms over my br**sts.

‘Well, hello again,’ he rasps in my ear, giving a little squeeze.

‘Miller!’

‘You put them there!’ he chuckles, making the most of my panic-induced error.

‘Bloody hell!’ I shrug him off and rush over to the bed, yanking at the covers until I’m concealed again. My face is flaming, Nan is in bits, and Miller isn’t helping, chuckling to himself. It’s the most beautiful sight, but my embarrassment and irritation won’t allow me to appreciate it for long. ‘Don’t egg her on!’ This is wrong on so many levels!