Wild Thing. Nicola Marsh

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      ‘We can try the friendship thing,’ she said, finally willing her legs to move and breaking free of his embrace by backing away a few steps. ‘But I’ll give you a heads-up. I’m not the same naive girl I once was.’

      ‘And I’m not the same narrow-minded jerk I once was.’ His lopsided grin catapulted her back in time to the many times that same smile had made her young, impressionable heart beat faster. ‘Now we’ve established we’ve both grown up, shall we talk business?’

      ‘Absolutely.’ Her emphatic nod sent her hair tumbling over her shoulders and she pushed it back, a simple, innocuous action with complicated results when Hudson’s gaze locked on her hair as if he wanted to bury his face in it.

      Hell. She could do friendship in a pinch but anything more between them would be disastrous. He might not know it but he’d given her a big break professionally in hiring her for this lead dancer role. She couldn’t screw it up. She wouldn’t. No matter how much intrigue spurred her on to see exactly how hot Hudson was beneath that cool facade.

      ‘Tell me about the show,’ she said, sounding fake and upbeat and perky, while she couldn’t ignore the way heat flared inside at the way he stared at her like he’d been given the keys to his favourite ice-cream store.

      He eyeballed her and in that moment she saw he faced the same inner battle she did. Lust versus logic. Curiosity warring with common sense. Desire battling deprivation.

      Crap. She might have just landed a dream job but she had a feeling she’d landed neck-deep in a load of trouble, too.

      ‘Tell me about you first.’ He gestured at a bar stool, indicating she sit. She didn’t want to. She wanted to stand so she could make a run for it if she needed to.

      Because being in Hudson’s arms had resurrected a whole host of feelings she’d long suppressed. She should hate him for how he’d treated her and their friendship. Instead, she’d accepted his apology, even though he hadn’t explained why he’d behaved so appallingly towards her, and agreed to try the friendship thing now.

      Was she insane?

      ‘Not much to tell.’ She perched on the edge of the stool, ready to flee at the slightest sign of awkwardness. ‘I attended uni for a while, doing a bachelor of applied dance in the hope I could teach as well as perform. But I hated the rigidity of classes so lasted less than six months.’

      His eyebrows rose, as if he couldn’t believe she’d even consider a career in teaching. ‘I can’t imagine you being an instructor.’

      She instantly bristled. ‘Why not?’

      ‘Because you’ve always had talent and haven’t you heard the old cliché, those who can do, those who can’t teach?’

      Assuaged by his compliment, she continued. ‘Guess I’m a cliché then, because once I focussed on dancing, I never looked back.’

      ‘The agency sent across the CVs of all applicants auditioning.’ He hesitated. ‘You’ve had tons of experience but no starring roles?’

      Damn him for homing in on her weakness.

      ‘What’s with the twenty questions?’ She sounded snappish and didn’t care.

      He was her boss, she was his employee, that was where it ended. She didn’t need him treating her like a friend catching up for old times’ sake. It blurred lines and she preferred perfectly delineated boundaries. She couldn’t deal with anything else, not now, when seeing him again had resurrected so many feelings, many of them bad.

      ‘Because I want to know what makes you tick these days.’ He reached out and touched her above her heart. ‘In here.’

      It had been nothing more than a fleeting brush of his fingertips against her skin; a barely there touch that shouldn’t have mattered. But it did, because heat flooded her body, most of it ending up in her cheeks.

      ‘I said I’d try the friendship thing. Don’t push it,’ she said, easing him away with her index finger.

      He laughed, the same rich, deep sound she remembered and damned if she didn’t prickle with awareness. Everywhere.

      ‘Friends ask about each other’s interests. They chat. They tease—’

      ‘No teasing.’

      It was one of the things she’d loved most about him back then, his ability to make her laugh.

      ‘You used to love it when I taunted you.’ He leaned forward as if to prove it, invading her personal space, his mouth mere inches from her ear. ‘Just because we haven’t seen each other in years doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten anything.’

      Damn.

      Did he know how she’d felt back then? Was that why he was torturing her now?

      Though it was more than two friends getting reacquainted and she knew it. There was a sexual tension between them, simmering beneath the surface, deliberately ignored but there all the same.

      Not good.

      ‘Then you’ll remember how much I hated you bugging me when I was doing homework and not much has changed.’ She elbowed him away, and he clutched at his side in mock outrage. ‘I’m your employee. I need to focus, not be distracted by...by...you,’ she finished lamely, not wanting to articulate exactly how badly the ever-present attraction between them was making her lose focus and her cool.

      ‘You find me distracting?’ His low voice made it sound like she’d found him naked.

      ‘I find you painful.’

      Her dry response made him laugh again. ‘Tell me you don’t feel more comfortable now than when you first came in?’

      So that was what he’d been doing. Trying to put her at ease. She should’ve been relieved. Instead, a familiar mortification in his presence swamped her; had she imagined the attraction between them?

      His boner during their hug could’ve meant nothing, a simple physiological reaction guys got when in close proximity with a woman. And his banter could’ve been exactly as he’d said, a way to put her at ease.

      To her chagrin, he squeezed her hand, like a friend would do.

      ‘Look, Mak, we have to work together. I think it’s great we’ve confronted the past and reached a point where we can talk like this. It’ll make the next few weeks a hell of a lot easier.’

      He was right, of course. While they couldn’t resume their old friendship, they had to be civil.

      But he hadn’t released her hand, and as she stared at it, his strong tanned fingers wrapped around hers, she couldn’t help but think that for a guy who professed friendship, he’d been teetering on the brink of overstepping the mark.

      As if to reinforce it, his thumb brushed across the back of her hand in a slow, languorous sweep that made her tingle and bite back a moan.

      Hell.

      She could do friendship with Hudson.

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