Playboy Boss, Pregnancy of Passion. Kate Hardy

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      She took the stairs to the first floor, where a receptionist sat behind a light wood desk.

      ‘Can I help you?’

      ‘I have an appointment to see Luke Holloway. Sara Fleet,’ she said.

      ‘Through the corridor, last door on the right,’ the receptionist said with a smile.

      Luke Holloway. He’d sounded crisp on the phone, the kind of man who knew what he wanted and didn’t waste time. Which made it all the more surprising that he needed an office troubleshooter. She usually dealt with people who stuffed things into drawers and scribbled things on sticky notes which they promptly lost and didn’t have a clue what a filing system or diary was—and Luke hadn’t given her that impression when he’d asked her to meet him at his office. So what kind of man was he?

      Well, she was about to find out for herself.

      The last door on the right was closed. She knocked and waited.

      ‘Come in.’ The voice sounded slightly harassed.

      She’d been expecting someone in a sharp suit and handmade shoes; the man leaning back in a chair, talking on the phone with his feet on the desk, looked more like a rock star. He was wearing a black round-necked sweater that she guessed was cashmere, teamed with black trousers, and his short dark hair was expensively tousled—the kind of haircut that made him look as if he’d just got out of bed. Teamed with eyes the colour of cornflowers and the most sensual mouth she’d ever seen, it was enough to make Sara’s libido sit up and beg.

      Though she knew better than to mix business and pleasure. This man was her client. Well, potential client. They’d agreed to meet today and discuss the situation; she’d learned in the past that someone might sound reasonable enough on the phone, but in person they were a nightmare to work with, so it was easier to discuss things face to face. Particularly as she prided herself on her ability to judge people quickly yet fairly: in business, she’d never once been wrong.

      Personally… Well, now wasn’t the time to start brooding over that.

      He put his hand over the receiver. ‘Are you Sara?’ he asked quietly.

      She nodded.

      ‘Good. I’m Luke. Sorry about this. I’ll be with you in two minutes—take a seat or a look round the office, whichever you prefer.’

      And he was as good as his word; he’d wrapped up the call before she’d had time to absorb more than the fact there were two desks in the room, both with state-of-the-art computers and completely clear work surfaces, and a bank of filing cabinets. The view from the office window over the river was stunning; she could see ships sailing down the Thames, and on a sunny day like this the water sparkled.

      ‘Right—I’m all yours,’ he said.

      The thoughts that put in her head… Very, very unprofessional thoughts. Thoughts of him lying naked on crisp cotton sheets that were just about to get seriously rumpled.

      Sara pushed the idea away and really hoped that her face hadn’t turned as red and hot as it felt. What the hell was wrong with her? She never, but never, started fantasising about her clients. Even the good-looking ones.

      Though Luke Holloway was a little more than good-looking. He was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen. The sort whose smile would make any woman’s heart feel as if it had just done a somersault.

      ‘Can I get you a coffee?’ he asked.

      ‘Thanks. That’d be nice.’ Though what she really needed was a cold shower.

      ‘Bathroom’s over there, if you need it.’ Luke indicated the door in the far corner.

      Oh, no. Please don’t let her have said that thing about cold showers out loud. Then her common sense kicked in. Obviously he meant if she needed the loo. ‘Thanks, I’m fine.’

      He opened another door to a small galley kitchen. ‘Milk, sugar?’

      ‘Just milk, please.’

      He added milk to one cup and sugar to another, then took a tin from the cupboard and removed the lid. ‘Help yourself.’

      Extremely posh chocolate biscuits.

      Clearly her amusement must have shown on her face because he laughed. ‘My only vice. Well, almost.’

      She caught the gleam in his eyes and could guess the other one. It dovetailed with the thoughts she’d had when he’d told her he was all hers. And it made her mouth go suddenly dry. She had to make a real effort to force her mind back to business. He wanted a troubleshooter, not a lover.

      She wasn’t in the market for a lover in any case. She liked her life as it was. Happy and single. Uncomplicated.

      ‘So what makes you think I can help you?’ she asked.

      ‘You come highly recommended,’ he said simply.

      ‘So,’ she countered, ‘do you.’

      He inclined his head, acknowledging the compliment. ‘Lily warned me that you might be busy.’

      ‘Usually, I am.’ She shrugged. ‘I’d planned to take the summer off to do a bit of travelling. Spend a month in Italy or Greece.’

      ‘Good food, decent weather and plenty of sandy beaches?’

      ‘Plenty of ruins,’ she corrected. A beach holiday, sitting still and doing nothing, was her idea of boredom. She liked exploring. ‘It’s one of the perks of being self-employed—I can choose when I want to take a holiday.’

      He handed her a mug of coffee, then picked up his own mug and the tin of biscuits and ushered her back into the office. ‘Most self-employed people have to be forced to take time off.’

      Was he talking about himself? She looked straight at him. ‘It’s important to take time off. If you don’t refill the well, you end up with burnout and you’re no good to anyone. Good time management helps a lot.’

      He didn’t look convinced, but at least he didn’t try to argue with her. Which was good. After Hugh, Sara had had enough of workaholic men. Ha. After Hugh, Sara had had enough of men, full stop. She kept her relationships light, flirty—and absolutely not committed.

      ‘My office isn’t usually this disorganised,’ he said, shepherding her back into the main room and indicating a chair.

      ‘Disorganised?’ The place was spotless. Unless she was missing something huge.

      ‘As I said on the phone, my personal assistant’s pregnant and she’s been off sick a lot. I’ve had temps in, but Di—that’s my assistant—hasn’t been able to brief them properly, and I haven’t been here enough to do it myself.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Today’s temp didn’t even bother turning up. I was talking to the agency when you came in, asking them what had happened.’

      Sara couldn’t resist the impulse to tease him. ‘Are you telling me you’re so scary that the temps have got your name on a СКАЧАТЬ