Sheikh's Forbidden Conquest(65)

By: Chantelle Shaw


She had just laid her head on the pillow when her cell phone rang. She frowned and pulled it off the bedside table. Unknown caller. She was about to decline the call when the thought they’d call back and wake her up made her reach for it.

“Francesca,” she murmured sleepily into the phone.

“Just checking that whack on your head didn’t do you in.”

Harrison Grant’s deep voice sent her jackknifing upright. How the heck did he have her mobile number? The company directory. Right.

“I was concerned about you. I should have sent you to the hospital to have your head looked at.”

“I’m fine,” she croaked. Without that arctic chill in it, his voice was the sexiest thing she’d ever heard over a phone line—deep, velvety and laced with a husky fatigue that reached all the way to her nerve endings.

Hadn’t he been about to go to bed? Was he calling from bed?

She shook her head, wincing as the throbbing reminded her she shouldn’t do that. How could she possibly be experiencing erotic images of a man who would likely send her packing tomorrow?

“Do you live with anyone?”

She blinked. “I—I don’t think that’s the kind of question I have to answer, is it?”

The warm, very masculine laughter that reached her from the other end of the line made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. “I wasn’t inquiring about your dating life, Francesca. I was going to say if you do have a roommate or significant other, you should get them to wake you up every few hours to make sure you don’t have a concussion. They can be very serious.”

“Oh.” Frankie swallowed back a fresh wave of mortification. “That’s very thoughtful of you. I do—have a roommate—that is. She’s out but I’ll do that.”

“Good. See you in the morning, then.”

She muttered good-night and disconnected the call. Punching down her pillow, she welcomed the breeze that wafted in through her old Victorian window, cooling her heated cheeks. Harrison Grant could add ridiculously naive to his new PA’s description after tonight’s debacle. That was, if he chose to keep her... She wasn’t laying odds on it.