Huge thanks to my Beta MyHubbyIsATwilightWidow for magically sorting out my appalling punctuation, to ChloeCougar for pre-reading and keeping me on track and to Iamamy for all her support.

You get an early update this week! (Don't get too used to it though, please!)

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Edward POV

I stared after Bella as she stormed off towards the house, my head whirling. Why the hell was it that I never knew what was going to happen between us? One second, I was angry at her, and the next, she was storming off angry at me, and I was left standing there feeling like a chastised child. Was it normal to have this kind of relationship with someone you worked with?

No. I'd never had so much trouble with someone I worked with before. Ever.

"Edward! Are you okay, mate?" Alec called anxiously from behind me as he jogged up the path towards me, his feet crunching on the fine gravel.

"Yeah, sure," I answered vaguely, waving off his concern, still watching the retreating form of an enigma named Bella Swan as she disappeared around a corner and out of my sight, the vague tugging in my gut disappearing as she did. Weird.

"Are you sure?" Alec persisted in concern as he reached my side. "You seem a bit distracted. You didn't wrench your arm, did you? Are you in any pain?"

I pulled my attention away from the gate that Bella had disappeared through and turned it back to Alec, looking blankly at him, quirking an eyebrow in question, "…What?"

"I said," he repeated patiently, like you would to a sick person, "Are you hurt?"

"What? No, of course not. It was just my sleeve that got pulled a bit. I'm fine." I fingered the tear in the sleeve absently again as I spoke. "Don't worry about it, Alec. It wasn't your fault."

"Yeah, it was," he stated firmly. "I should have prevented that."

"It was just an accident. No one's going to blame you," I replied a bit more heatedly. I hated it when people made a fuss of me; I was just an ordinary guy, not royalty or something.

Alec laughed ruefully. "The production company will have my arse for it."

I opened my mouth to protest, and he rode over me continuing, "And rightly. It was my mistake, but that doesn't matter. I just wanted to make sure you were okay with everything. I'm really sorry, mate. I don't know how I miss…"

"Hey, it was just an accident, Alec," I interrupted firmly.

Just treat me like a regular person, please.

"Don't worry over it," I continued, then changed the subject. "Are we all set for this afternoon?" I guessed that was where Alec had been, preparing for this afternoon's scenes.

He allowed me to move the conversation on, realising I didn't want a fuss made. "Yeah, everything's set. It's a couple of simple jumps. We'll just have a few run-throughs, and you'll be fine."

I nodded, punching him in the bicep good-humouredly. "Great. Let's go to lunch. I'm starved."

"Okay, well, I need to face the music here a bit more, mate, but I'll see you later, and we'll block out your moves then." He punched me on the arm in return, a bit harder than I had him, damn stunt guys, always the tough ones, and grinned at me, knowing what I was thinking. "See you in a bit, ya wimp."

I growled under my breath, glaring at him, but he just laughed before pushing me in the direction of the house and moving off to consult with Wal, who was not looking too happy. I crunched along the gravel, following the exodus towards sustenance, my mind switching back to Bella again.

Surprise, surprise, just can't stop thinking about her, can you?

I wish I knew why.

You know why. It's because you've never felt anything like this before. You're enjoying it.

Like hell I am. She's so bloody annoying I can barely focus on the job.

Yeah, like that's the only reason.

Shut it.

When I reached the house, I followed the crowd towards the kitchen where everyone happily helped themselves to the 'grab-and-go' food before either sitting down to eat it or moving on to continue working while eating. I preferred to sit with everyone else, soaking up the chatter and joining in with the good-natured ribbing about finding the only rusty nail in the whole bloody place to get myself snagged on. No one seemed too bothered though. We were on schedule, and that was what counted around here.

This lunch was the usual sort of thing, hurried and everyone actually working rather than relaxing. Talk of the next scenes, what had gone right, what had gone wrong this morning (including my rusty nail incident.) There was some frustration over equipment that hadn't worked right, which had me worried for a minute in case we were going to have to do that all over again. Pete entered the room at that point and caught my eye, giving me a reassuring thumbs-up from across the warm, crowded kitchen. Phew, no reshoots.

The stress level gradually reduced as the food was consumed hungrily, though the constant movement of bodies as people came and went was hardly what you would call relaxing.

I was glad of the chance to take the weight off and warm up; I hadn't done that much exercise for a while, and this afternoon there would be even more. They had me jumping over walls and stuff, so I knew I'd have to concentrate on getting it right.

I was used to it. This was work. A day in the office. I fingered the torn sleeve absently, guilty about damaging my costume even though it hadn't been my fault. I hadn't actually apologised to Bella about it, and I felt as though I should have. The compulsion to seek her out and talk to her grew, covering over my anger… frustration… irritation… whatever in hell it was. Glancing around as casually as I could, I couldn't see any sign of her in the kitchen. Had she been and gone?

The urge to see her grew—to apologise, to make sure she had had some lunch and wasn't missing out. What the hell was that all about? It wasn't like she couldn't take care of herself, because I was more than sure she could.

I stood up from my place at the table, mouthed "bathroom" to Pete when he looked enquiringly at me, and went in search of Bella Swan; annoying, irritating, intriguing, confusing, mystifying, terrifying woman that she was. I made a conscious decision not to evaluate that list I had just recited. I didn't want to know what I meant by it.

I found her in Wardrobe, of course. Leaning against the door frame, I watched her quietly, enjoying the opportunity to observe her without her knowing I was there. Adding to my admittedly small store of knowledge about her. Thinking over the things I still wanted to know.

Why on earth was she here in this empty, cold room and not with everyone else in the warm kitchen? Or at least with Angela? They had seemed to be getting on all right. Her snobby attitude to mixing with the others irritated me. Did she really think she was better than everyone else here?

Was she still angry at me for destroying two T-shirts? I couldn't have been the first actor to have accidently damaged something? Her attitude towards me annoyed me no end.

What about what had happened when she was putting that plaster on my foot? My body's reaction to her. What was that all about? How did she do that to me? I was angry at myself for reacting like that, but even angrier at her for not reacting to me the same way. Well, not exactly the same way, obviously, but she had been impersonal and cold, while my body and brain had been a raging inferno. And I hated her for that!

She was just fucking annoying.

She was just…

I sighed. I didn't know. She just was.

And yet, despite all that, here I was, leaning against the doorway, watching her and asking myself questions I didn't even know why I was asking.

So I let the anger and the frustration and the confusion sink to the bottom of my thoughts, and I watched her, enjoying the chance. She was unlike any woman I'd ever known.

She had her back to me as she sat at the huge cloth-covered table. Her profile was partly turned towards me though, and I realised that she was sat in a chair with her legs stretched out in front of her, her feet propped up on another chair. In one hand, she held a sandwich, and in the other, a pen as she worked on some paperwork spread out on the table. She was completely relaxed, the most relaxed and comfortable I had yet seen her. She had stripped off some of the layers of clothes and had tossed them on the back of the chair and was wearing slim fitting jeans and a long sleeved shirt over what looked like a vest thing. Alice would roll her eyes at me for not knowing the correct terms. But all I could think of was the glimpse through those layers that I had had earlier as she bent over and helped me with my shoe.

They were a few seconds I was unlikely to forget.

I studied her face carefully, not knowing if a chance like this would come again. Her hair was drawn back into a single bunch still, but it looked windblown and wispy and not at all styled and falsely held in place, as many women would have worn it. It was natural, and for all its constraints into an elastic thing at her nape, it looked free.

The drawn back hair allowed her neck to be seen, her ear, her jaw, all pale skin, smooth, firm yet soft. Could someone be firm and soft at the same time? I didn't know, but if anyone could be, it would be contradictory Bella Swan. I could see her cheek. Again, soft and smooth, a faint pink covering it, which I was pretty sure wasn't make-up. Her eyes were drawn to the page she was writing on, her long lashes visible even from my vantage point at the door. Her lips were drawn up into a gentle smile which twitched and moved as she mouthed words silently as she worked. What was she saying?

Suddenly, making me jump and almost giving away my newly found voyeuristic tendencies, she made a sound—a humming sound, melodic but tuneless. I realised that she was humming to music. I saw an iPod now, sitting on the table next to her plate. The distinctive white cord stretched up towards her far ear. She was only listening with one bud; she was at work, after all. Her body was swaying slightly in time with whatever she was now tunelessly humming to, socked toes tapping, her thigh rhythmically tensing and releasing. I gulped at the sight. She couldn't carry a tune, that was for sure. But she was the embodiment of contentment as she sat there.

She could have sat with everyone else in the kitchen, but for whatever reasons, she chose to sit here, alone. But she wasn't cowed by the solitary status; somehow, she seemed to own it.

It was a disconcerting thought which was yet another one to add to all the other confusing mixed up thoughts I had about her. They were all really making it difficult to concentrate on anything else, especially when you added in that strange sort of pull I felt towards her and the heat when we touched.

The whole package was kind of frightening in that 'never done that before' kind of way. Like the first time you're sitting at the top of a drop slide wondering whether to go for it or step back and walk away.

I shook my head, hoping to clear out all those kind of thoughts. I couldn't deal with all of this now. I had a job to do, and no time to be all mixed up. She and I were just two really different people with nothing in common, who would likely never meet again after these few days. I needed to step away from this. I needed to keep away from her. I needed to keep her away from me.

Determinedly I shoved my hands in my pockets, pushed myself off the door frame, and plodded back to the kitchen to finish my sandwich and get ready for this afternoon. The memory of pink cheeks and tuneless humming followed doggedly along with me.

.

~~ooOoo~~

Bella POV

I hummed away to the music as I sat and ate my lunch, diligently ignoring the 'feeling' that I had inside me. I had started to think that I could tell when Edward was near. There was this sort of tugging feeling going on, but quite obviously I had been wrong. I didn't lift my eyes up from the plate and the paperwork in front of me, but my peripheral vision told me that the room all around me was completely empty.

I didn't know whether to be pleased or not. I certainly didn't want the infuriating man anywhere near me, but then, it had been special somehow to think that we had this weird connection. Not that I wanted it. At all. But I had to admit, I was a bit disappointed.

I still felt it though. I felt it now. I felt as though he was here somewhere watching me. I flicked my eyes up and looked around the room quickly. No, nothing.

So it must be static in the air or maybe the place was haunted or maybe I had eaten something that disagreed with me? Because any explanation was better than thinking that I had any kind of connection with a famous film star and then realising that, in reality, I didn't.

I finished the rest of my sandwich while I filled in the continuity sheets, though there wasn't much to put, and checked my kit over ready for the afternoon. It was best to be prepared for everything, costume wise.

There was no way that I would have been comfortable eating lunch in the busy kitchen surrounded by so many people, so I was glad to have got there early and been able to grab a sandwich and slip off to my room on my own. The peace and solitude were comforting. And God knows I needed some comfort. It had been a heck of a morning. My emotions had been all over the place, which was something that never happened to me. I was normally as placid and unruffled as anyone, so to be decidedly ruffled was a shock. My last boyfriend had got fed up with what he called my 'ice-queen act' and had left, ignoring the still-waters-run-deep analogy I had tried to explain my feelings with. It had hurt.

So how did Edward Masen do this to me? Was it just because I had built up a fantasy about him or was it something real? No way of knowing. Anyway, there was no way that he felt anything for me other than negative things, and besides, we were working together; nothing could or would happen.

Having a few minutes peace to pull myself together was refreshing. If I wanted to get a good recommendation from this job—if I didn't want to get fired—I was going to have to do better.

We would be back outside filming this afternoon. Edward was going to be doing some short action sequences; jumping over a wall in one, reaching up and grabbing a branch to swing over another wall in another. I glanced out of the window. The weather seemed to be still cooperating, so with any luck, we wouldn't all have to huddle up under umbrellas.

I checked my bag over again, unplugged the camera from the charger and slipped it into a pocket, and then pulled on my many layers to ward off the cold air outside. I grabbed Edward's coat, too. He would need it. Leaving my room to look for him, I heard sounds from Angela's room next door and peered round the door frame to see what was going on. My heart clenched at the sight of Edward sitting in a chair laughing while Angela ran her hands through his hair, getting him ready for the next scenes and Jessica stood close by, joining in with the joke. I had a moment of feeling that I couldn't, wouldn't identify. I was pretty sure it was jealousy, but I pushed it right to the back of my mind. I was just not going to think like that.

Whatever it was, Edward seemed to be in a good mood, so I stepped into the room, intending to let him know that his new T-shirt was ready for him next door. All three of them looked up at me as I entered.

Jessica called out cheerfully, "Hi, Bella. How are you getting on today?" Angela rolled her eyes at me and nodded comically, indicating her hands in Edward's hair, which I knew she must have been loving. And Edward? Edward shut me out. No other way to describe it. One second he was laughing with the other women, relaxed and carefree, and the next, he was stiff as a board, his face expressionless and cold. He had glanced at me as I entered the room, but now his eyes wouldn't meet mine at all.

I had expected it. I mean, really, I had. It was a bitter pill to swallow though. The difference in him when I was near him was obvious. He flirted with everyone else apart from me. And Angela was married, for God's sake. Had he no morals at all?

Angela glanced curiously at Edward before announcing that she was finished with him, and he began to stand.

"I've... er… got your things ready next door," I told him in rather a weak voice. Really, I needed to do better than that. "When you're ready," I finished with a bit more strength in my voice. I was not going to let him get to me. Well, I wasn't going to let him know he was getting to me anyway. Because he was definitely getting to me.

I turned and scurried back into my room, deciding that he was not the only one who could ignore people. I stood waiting for him, trying not to fidget too much, but unable to stop the irritated tapping of my foot against the floor. A few moments later, he followed, going straight over to the table where the t-shirt was waiting for him. He didn't say anything to me. He didn't look at me. He didn't acknowledge me in any way. I gritted my teeth, torn between hurt and fury. Really, he was so bloody infuriating. I was going to end up with ulcers after all this. Plus, I was going to self-combust. Not a good combination.

"This okay?" His wooden voice sounded suddenly, pulling me out of my day-dreams, where I was torn between causing him actual bodily harm and actually just jumping his body. He had rolled his sleeves a little and was standing, staring out of the window, presumably waiting for me to check him over, which, despite everything, was a joy to do. This T-shirt was just as good a fit as the other two—I was so proud of my babies. And his perfectly shaped arse looked delectable in those jeans. They fitted him so well; not too tight, but just enough to mold to his toned legs.

Wasn't it great that I got to run my eyes over him as much as I wanted, and I could call it work?

He cleared his throat impatiently, waiting for me to give him the okay to get back outside. I was tempted to keep him hanging around just to piss him off because he deserved it, but I came to my senses in time to realise that it would be: a) childish, and b) unprofessional. I walked over to the table, picked up his coat that I had placed back down there, and handed it to him as a sign that we were finished here. I didn't look him in the eye either. Really, it was quite ridiculous.

Grinding out a curt, "Thanks," through what I was sure were gritted teeth, he pulled the coat jerkily on and strode out of the room. Long legs and a mane of sex hair. Pity he was an insufferable, irritating, rude bastard.

~~oo0oo~~

I had a bit of time before I would be needed outside, since Edward would be running through what he needed to be doing, so I made another quick trip to the loo—all those hot drinks this morning—and then made my way into Angela's room.

She looked up at me with a smile when I entered. "I'm just packing this stuff up," she said, indicating her make-up items. "And then I'll be ready to go out again." I nodded in response, not sure how I wanted to play this. It felt a bit awkward the way Edward liked her but hated me. Of course, she probably hadn't noticed.

"So what was up between you and Edward just now?"

Bugger. Okay, she had.

"Nothing. Why?" was my totally pathetic answer.

"Sweetie, he was relaxed and chatty until you walked in the room, and then he froze up like a statue. Have you two got a history or something?" Her tone was concern mixed with curiosity. I couldn't blame her.

I sighed. "No, no history…" to speak of, "...he just doesn't seem to like me for some reason." I found myself looking at her imploringly. Perhaps she could tell me what was wrong with me to make him act like that? Again, pathetic.

"Well, if he doesn't, he's crazy," she stated decisively, zipping up the last section of her huge make-up bag. "His loss, right?" And she smiled reassuringly at me, though I got the impression that she thought there was something else going on. If there was, I wished like hell I knew what it was. "Are you ready to go on out?"

I shifted the jumpers and coat I was holding in my arms and replied, "Sure. Just need to get bundled back up again." We both pulled our various layers on, preparing for the cold outside. Before we left, Angela put her hand on my arm, stopping me from leaving the room, and said, "Don't worry. He's really nice when you get to know him. Just give him a chance." I smiled weakly in response. He wasn't the man I wished he was. I wasn't sure I wanted to give him a chance.

We headed outside, crunching over the gravel paths, sinking a bit into the soggy lawns, and sloshing through mud as we approached the stone outbuilding and walls that were the setting for the afternoon's scenes. I could see Edward and Alec at work as we approached.

It seemed that Edward was going to be swinging himself over a wall by running up, grabbing an overhanging tree branch, and using it to swing himself over the wall before landing on this side and taking off running again. They were preparing carefully, I was glad to note, and both seemed pretty relaxed about it.

Keeping well out of the way, Angela and I stood off to the side, watching and waiting until we were needed. They did two complete run-throughs with Edward still wearing his coat to keep warm. Lights were fiddled with, cameras prepped, and then it was time for a take. We hurried over, and Angela went to work sorting out the slight sheen on Edward's face. I waited until they had finished and then held out my hand to take his coat. He undid it, slipped if off his shoulders, and handed it to me without acknowledging my presence at all.

I glared at him, actually narrowed my eyes and glared. Damn man. Damn sexy-as-hell man. I checked him over (what a job, I know) and, deciding that he was good to go, turned and made my way around the wall, not over it, luckily, and back over to stand by Angela.

I was still brooding mutinously over the way he treated me and nearly missed the shot altogether. And that would have been a real shame.

Edward ran towards the wall, reaching up above his head to grab hold of the tree branch. As he reached up, the T-shirt, which had been sitting just at the waistband of his jeans, rode up, revealing the washboard abs that had been hiding beneath it. Swinging himself over the wall, he kicked his legs out, stretching his body deliciously, before releasing the branch and landing back on the ground again on this side of the wall. Straightening from his slight crouch from landing, he took off running again and out of shot.

"Oh. My. God," said Angela beside me.

Quite. Edward was magnificent. The way the T-shirt rode up and his jeans slipped down slightly on his narrow hips. The way his muscles flexed and stretched right in the camera's view. And that glimpse of his toned body. Beautiful.

But there was something not quite right. Trying to pull myself out of the sexual fantasy that I had just witnessed, I thought professionally about what I had seen. Then I got it. I had seen white. I turned around to look at Edward, wondering what it was that hadn't seemed right. As I watched, he reached both arms above his head, gripped his fingers together, and stretched up, getting the kinks out of his body and arms.

And there it was again. A flash of white. Even I was distracted from his abs by the flash of white showing where his jeans had slipped down his hips. And that was saying something.

I was standing over forty feet from him, and I could clearly see that he was wearing Calvin Klein underwear. Those guys sure knew how to brand their product.

Perhaps it was just me. Maybe I just had a fixation with his underwear. I needed to see the shot close up. I trotted over to the monitor—time was money, after all—and peered over various shoulders so I could see what the camera had seen. Much closer. Oh my God, he was gorgeous. I had a hard time stopping myself from drooling. Seriously.

Looking at the monitor though, the flash of white was even more obvious. Well, to me, anyway. The strip of stark white elastic between his creamy skin and his dark jeans was just plain distracting. Design goal number one: the audience must not notice the costumes. And those white CK's were definitely noticeable. I hesitated for a moment. Was I letting my decidedly non-professional judgement rule me? I looked again. No. That flash of white darting across the screen was distracting to the audience and needed to go.

I cleared my throat nervously, "Er, Jason?" He flicked a glance up at me from where he was sitting in his canvas chair looking intently at the monitor, head-phones askew on his head. "Sorry, but I have a problem with how he looks."

Jason looked around at me now, a puzzled look on his face. "He looks fine to me; moved well, got it right first time." There was more than a hint of pride in his voice. He looked questioningly at me, silently asking me to justify my declaration.

"Can you go back to the beginning?" I asked, pointing to the screen. The image flickered then resumed, showing Edward reaching up and grabbing the branch again. "Stop it there," I instructed. "There. Look." I pointed to the bright white strip across Edwards's lower abdomen. The black initials CK were clearly visible in the centre of the white. "I'm sorry. It's my fault. I should have realised that it would be visible." Bill and the others leaned in and looked closer. "If you play it again, tell me if you are not distracted by that flash of white now," I continued as the film went back to the beginning and Edward grabbed the branch and swung himself over the wall, the white flash of Calvin Kleins drawing my eye.

"She's right," Phil said to my left. "Now I'm looking at it, it's all I can see."

Jason nodded, and Wal added, "They're not one of our sponsors, either, so we can't have that."

Looking up at me with slight irritation, Jason asked, "Can you fix it?"

"Yes, sure. Just give me a few minutes," I replied confidently, hoping that I could 'fix it' and quickly.

"I want to adjust that lighting as he swings over anyway," Pete muttered, pointing to the monitor again. "See, it's not hitting right here."

I left them to it and hurried around the wall, over to where Edward was standing waiting for the verdict of the shot. He arched an eyebrow at me as I approached, then seemed to sigh before turning slightly so he didn't have to watch me walk over. Damn him, ignoring me again. He made me so mad. I made sure my churning emotions weren't showing on my face as I said, "I'm sorry, but there's a problem with the shot. You'll need to do it again." He made to swing away from me and head back to his start position.

"No," I called, stopping him in his tracks. "It's a costume issue. Sorry." He looked himself up and down, his thick, dark brows squirreling adorably… damn it… obviously puzzled at what I could mean.

"I've not spilt coffee, not ripped anything. What could the problem be?" he queried sardonically. I took a deep, calming breath.

"Well…"

Get on with it. Just spit it out, girl.

"… The top of your underwear is showing over your jeans, and I… er… Jason thinks it's a bit distracting…" I trailed off. He was looking incredulous that I was talking about his underwear. Like it wasn't something that someone like me should even have been thinking about.

Well, he was right there actually.

"We just need to sort the problem out. It won't take long," I tried offering soothingly. "We'll go up to the house now and…"

"There's nothing showing over these jeans," he stated defiantly, pulling the front of his T-shirt up a few inches, revealing his hard, creamy abs. "There. See?"

Oh, yeah, I saw. I tried to tear my eyes away from the delicious sight before me. Licking my suddenly dry lips I said, "Well, when you stretch up, the jeans slip down a bit, and, well, you can see them." It might be a good time to start looking him in the eye because I was staring at his low slung jeans now. At his stomach. His lower stomach, his abs, his treasure trail…

Oh, hell.

He leaned in closer towards me, a seductive smile tugging at his lips, looking at me through his long, beautiful eyelashes, causing goose bumps to blossom all over me.

"Are you sure you don't just want to get your hands on my jeans, Ms. Swan?" he asked before he straightened, his expression tightening again as if he were angry with himself for something. He turned away from me, lowering the T-shirt back down, blocking my stare.

I gasped, shocked that, well, he was right actually.

"Take a look at the monitor yourself if you like," I retorted crossly, embarrassed to have been caught blatantly staring.

"I'm sure it's fine," he stated back just as firmly, dismissing me with his attitude. Damn it, couldn't he understand I was just doing my job here? I started tapping my foot nervously on the ground, but whether as a prelude to kicking him or jumping him, I wasn't sure.

"Actually, Mr. Masen, it's not fine. The underwear needs to go." Both of his mobile brows rose sharply at my words. He looked almost horrified at the thought. Completely ignoring me again, he strode over to the monitor and spoke to Pete and Alistair before leaning in to watch what was on the small screen.

I took in a deep breath. This job was so much harder than I ever thought it was going to be. How could I have possibly known that I was going to be working with such an impossible man? And my own personal feelings were just making it all so much more difficult for me.

He was without a doubt the most infuriating man I had ever met. He was driving me crazy with his bloody-minded, stubborn attitude. Not to mention the heat he generated in me. Just being in the same room with his tall, long-legged frame, sharp, angular jaw and eyelashes to die for and I felt myself go up in flames.

And he didn't even notice me.

I mean, he behaved as if I wasn't even in the room. A blank space. When he had to speak directly to me, it was practically through gritted teeth.

Bloody actors. An attitude was the last thing I needed to deal with. I had a job to do here, and he was not going to distract me from it. This was my best chance to prove myself. And he was bloody well going to do what I said, whether he liked it or not. He could give me those stubborn, pouty, up-through-his-eyelashes looks all he liked.

Oh, yes, please...

Oh, no, not likely. I was not going to let myself fall for him. After all, most of the time, he looked at me like I was a particularly annoying elderly aunt that he had to be polite to, but didn't really like. Oh, I hated that. Especially the elderly bit. We were almost the same age, damn it. Okay, so I found myself treating him more and more like a three-year-old, but it was his own fault. He was behaving like one. I mentally stamped my foot. Like a three-year-old. God, it was contagious.

I made sure to keep my expression stern whenever we were in one another's vicinity, keeping my body rigid, firmly under my control. Foot tapping was the only outward sign of the energy boiling around madly inside of me, from the top of my scalp to the tips of my toes and not missing any parts in between. None. At. All.

I took a deep calming breath. He saw. His eyes swung up to meet mine across the space between us; stubborn, determined and, oh, deep sea green pools of sexual delight, promising... promising... Sensing a win, he cocked his head slightly and allowed his expression to slip into what could only be described as a smirk. Bastard. He quirked his eyebrow and I barely kept a whimper from escaping.

The quirk and smirk. Oh, God.

I was teetering on the brink. Just from a look. Damn him. Gathering what were most definitely the very last tatters of my resolve, I stepped towards him, gave him my best maiden aunt stern glare, and spoke to him firmly.

"Mr. Masen, I'm told that you're very good at your job, but believe me when I say that I am damn good at my job, too. Now go into my room and take your underwear off."

There were several seconds of the quietest quiet I had ever heard. I swear I heard the grass growing under my feet before he straightened, the cocky smirk gone now.

Alistair snickered next to him before adding his penny-worth, "Yeah, go and change, Edward. Do as the lady says." And I could have kissed him. Or kicked him.

Trying, and probably not succeeding, to keep the smug look off my face, I walked past them heading towards the house, hearing Edward fall into step just behind me. After a few minutes, when we were well away from everyone else, he leaned forwards as we walked, his hot breath caressing my ear. "You know," he started softly, "I don't need any help getting undressed… unless you wanted to take my underwear off for me?"

I gasped and stopped walking so suddenly that he ran into the back of me, his hard body pressing into mine for a few seconds before he stepped back away from me again.

Turning slowly, deliberately, I balled my hands into fists to prevent myself from doing something that I would regret; pulled every last tiny piece of self-control I had together, looked him in the eye, and said, "You're the last man I would want to help out of his underwear, Mr. Masen," before turning and marching defiantly back to the bustle and confusion of the location we had just left.

So he thought he could mess with me, did he? Well, two could play at that game.

.

Chapter End Notes:

Thanks to every one who has reviewed, alerted and favourited this story. Your support means the world to me.

At the time this chapter takes place, Edward and Bella have been working together for about 7 or 8 hours. Adding together the few hours they were together the previous evening, they have still only known each other for less than a day. I know, it feels like longer! It does to me too!

I promise that their relationship will move forward soon, just let me enjoy torturing them a little bit more first, it's such fun!

I'd love to know what you think of the story so far, and what you think might happen in the rest of the story. Next up, will Edward enjoy the experience of 'going commando'? Will Bella enjoy it too? And will Edward get any sore bits that need kissing better...?