Overtime in the Boss's Bed. Nicola Marsh

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      He wanted to pick up where they’d left off, to continue their flirtation. She’d be a firecracker, he could tell. All sass and mouth. Just the type of distraction he needed right now.

      Tonight he wanted to forget.

      Everything.

      He’d thrown the job offer out there as a challenge, though a small part of him had hoped she’d take him up on it. He needed a fill-in PA desperately. The only temp agency he trusted had no one available for eight weeks and he was seriously floundering.

      Even a beautiful dancer, with a smart mouth, a movie star name and a body built for ballroom rather than clerical, would be better than his current predicament.

      He scanned the crowd, the entrance, finally spotting her beneath a towering indoor plant near the lobby.

      He should leave, head back to his hotel, find solace in a pricey single malt Scotch. Instead he found his feet veering towards her, and at that moment she glanced up, tossed her blonde hair and pinned him with a curious stare.

      The impact of those large blue eyes slugged him all the way to his toes.

      She glowed with vitality, from the tips of her silver-painted toenails to the top of her mussed, just-out-of-bed hair.

      She wasn’t his type—far from it. But there was something about her, something about her boldness, that reached to him on an instinctual level.

      ‘Is it too much to hope you’re waiting for me?’

      ‘Way too much.’

      ‘I asked you to wait around for me back there.’

      Shrugging, she flicked a less-than-impressed stare his way. ‘Guess I don’t always do as I’m told—so sue me.’

      Oh, yeah, she was a firecracker all right. Exactly what he needed tonight: hot, feisty, sassy, a world away from wallowing in memories he’d rather forget.

      ‘Yet you’re still here?’

      She cocked her head to one side, studying him. ‘I was waiting to say goodbye to a friend, but I think she’s ditched me for one of those hunky waiters.’

      ‘What? Those fake-tanned, muscle-bound Neanderthals?’

      Her glossed lips curved into a smile and he couldn’t tear his gaze away.

      She had the most beautiful mouth he’d ever seen: full lips, even white teeth, and a smile that could make a man forget where he was and why.

      ‘Naked himbos not your thing?’

      ‘Himbos?’

      ‘Male equivalent of bimbo.’

      She rolled her eyes, her tolerant expression reading don’t you know anything? as he chuckled.

      ‘Looks like she’s a no-show.’

      She pushed off from the monstrous terracotta pot where she’d propped herself, partially hidden amid the lush foliage of a palm, and it hit him all over again how utterly beguiling this woman was.

      It had little to do with the sexily mussed blonde hair hanging halfway down her back, the wide luminous blue eyes or the saucy smile curving her lips, and more to do with the aura of vibrancy that shimmered and danced around her. Intriguing for a guy like him, who focussed on business all the time.

      He’d never met anyone like her—only dated well-dressed, well-heeled, well-put-together socialites who played things cool.

      Starr Merriday was hot, the antithesis of every woman he’d ever been with, and he couldn’t walk away.

      ‘Let me take you home. Make sure you get there safely.’

      He’d expected an instant rebuttal and waited, captivated by her inherent beauty, her natural grace, her spunk.

      He wanted to demand she let him drive her home, give him more time with her. His last PA had called it his God Complex—his need to control everything and everyone around him. He preferred to see it as staying on top of things. He was a guy used to being in charge and liked it that way.

      ‘You want to take me home, huh?’

      She cocked a hip, boldly provocative.

      ‘That’s what I said.’

      She worried a gloriously full bottom lip for a moment, and he clamped down on the urge to do the same.

      He wanted her.

      Irrationally.

      Madly.

      Passionately.

      With a brisk nod, she tucked her hand into his elbow.

      ‘Fine. Have it your way.’

      Gritting his teeth against the urge to grab her hand and make a run for the lifts leading to the hotel’s exquisite rooms, he took a step forward, surprised when she didn’t fall in beside him.

      ‘Where to?’

      ‘This way.’

      He didn’t trust her mischievous smile, the wicked sparkle in her eyes, and when she led him away from the monstrous glass entrance and towards the lifts, the rush of blood pounding in his ears signalled he was in way over his head with this one.

      ‘You’re staying here?’

      She nodded, her smile widening. ‘Just for tonight. My friends’ shout for my last night in Sydney.’

      Where you headed?’

      ‘Melbourne.’

      ‘Great city.’

      He should know. He’d taken it by storm years ago, had built his fortune there.

      ‘You know I wasn’t joking about that job offer, right?’

      ‘I think we can find more fun things to talk about than my unemployed status.’

      She stabbed at the lift button, raised her head to watch the numbers descend from ten to zero while he studied her.

      He wanted her. Now. Wanted to lose himself in her, lose himself in the pleasure of hot, wild sex, lose focus of everything but her.

      The doors pinged open. The lift’s interior was a dazzling gold and chrome combination, with mirrors reflecting their images, showing a mixture of excitement and anticipation.

      She stepped in, tugged on his hand. ‘You coming?’

      These days he always did the right thing, the cautious thing, the sensible, well-thought-out thing. But in that instant, with her eyes insolent and her lips curved into a brazen challenge, he did the thing he’d used to be famous for in his youth.

      ‘Hell, СКАЧАТЬ