Six Hot Single Dads. Lynne Marshall

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      A sense of panic hit her, in more ways than one. Not only was she going to be stranded on a tropical island with her big, bad boss and his spoiled band of misfits, she was going to have to fuss over her clothes.

      “I have no idea what I’m supposed to wear to the party,” she said. She wore professional ensembles to work and comfy threads on her days off, but this was a whole other ball game.

      He waved away her concern. “Just call Millie and have her bring a bunch of stuff to your house. Then pick whatever you want and have her bill me for it.”

      Millie was his stylist, a woman who also worked with celebrity clients. “You don’t have to do that.”

      “I want to. Besides, you wouldn’t be able to afford this type of couture on your own.” He shot her a playful grin. “I’d have to give you a ridiculously huge raise.”

      She returned his smile. “Heaven forbid.” In actuality, he already paid her a generous salary. But if he said the clothes were out of her price range, then she believed him. “I’ll call her later today and see what her schedule is like.” The party was less than a month away, and Carol wanted to be prepared. She never did anything last minute. “At least Millie already knows that I’m not a model or actress or Beverly Hills type. I could never wear anything straight off the runway. I have too much meat on my bones.”

      Automatically, his gaze traveled the length of her. “There’s nothing wrong with having curves.”

      She could have kicked herself for drawing his attention to her shape. “I didn’t mean it that way.” She’d already learned to accept her fuller figure and stop trying to be skinnier than her body type allowed.

      He kept checking her out, not overtly, but still looking, still being a guy. “Be sure to tell Millie to include beachwear,” he said. “Just so you’ll have a complete weekend wardrobe.”

      “That’s fine.” At this point, Carol wanted to hightail it out of his office. But she couldn’t run off without wrapping things up. She hurriedly asked, “What sort of accommodations do they have on the island?”

      “It’s a mansion that Lena is renting. There are caretakers who live on the property, but she’ll be hiring a full staff to run it like a hotel while we’re there. When you RSVP, make sure to let her assistant know that we need two rooms. Otherwise, he’ll assume that my plus-one will be staying with me.”

      “Yes, of course. I’ll take care of it.” After a beat of anxious energy, she said, “I better get back to work.”

      “You are working.”

      “I meant on something other than the arrangements for Lena’s party. You have other commitments besides that.” His calendar was filled with business dinners and charity events and city council meetings.

      “I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re good at keeping me organized.”

      “I’m just doing my job.” But even so, this discussion seemed oddly personal. She hoped that she wasn’t making a mistake by going to the Caribbean with him. How was she going sit beside him on the beach, wearing nothing but a swimsuit?

      Just as she thought about the part of their trip when they’d be scantily clad, the sun shifted in the sky and the light from the windows spilled into the room, brighter than before.

      He stood there for a moment, in the afternoon glare, looking as gorgeous as ever, before he picked up the remote from his desk and closed the blinds.

      “I’ll talk to you later,” she said, telling herself not to worry, even if she could feel him watching her, much too closely, as she walked out the door.

      * * *

      Jake pulled his Gullwing Mercedes coupe, one of the many classic sports cars in his collection, into a guest parking spot at Carol’s apartment. He didn’t believe in letting his cars sit around, all pretty and polished and untouched. It didn’t matter how rare or pricey they were, he drove the hell out of them. He treated women with the same reverence and vigor. But Carol wasn’t his lover, and he had no business being here. Still, he’d decided to stop by because he knew that she was meeting with the stylist today. He figured the appointment was over by now. Of course, he’d timed it that way on purpose. He was curious to see what Carol had chosen.

      He was curious about all sorts of things about her. Jake had been having some crazy fantasies about his assistant.

      Carol was a fascinating woman, with a sinful body and modest values. An enigma, if there ever was one. And damn if her good-girl nature didn’t turn him on. It was weird, too, because proper girls weren’t his usual type. He’d never had the urge to pull someone into the fray, not the way he was doing with her.

      Maybe it was because they shared similar backgrounds. Maybe that was why he was daring her to let down her guard and have a good time. Whatever the reason, he needed to curb his desire. He couldn’t seduce her when they were on their trip. He absolutely, positively couldn’t, no matter how tempting the thought was. Jake knew better than to cross that line with a woman who worked for him. Besides, she prided herself on being well-behaved and corrupting her would be wrong.

      He glanced toward Carol’s apartment. He’d never actually been inside her place before; he didn’t make a habit of visiting his employees at their homes. He did own this building, though. It was one of his favorite properties. He gave her a discount on the rent, a perk that came with her job. But regardless of the deal they’d worked out, he wasn’t her landlord, at least not directly. A management company ran the day-to-day operations and collected the rent.

      Jake got out of the car and strode to Carol’s door. She lived in a unit on the ground floor surrounded by foliage. Built in the 1930s, the complex boasted Spanish-style architecture and was within walking distance to restaurants, shopping centers and farmers’ markets.

      He rang the bell, and she answered the summons with a surprised expression.

      “Jake? What are you doing here?”

      “I just thought I’d check on how the fashion meeting unfolded.” He gestured jokingly to his ensemble. “Not that I’m the epitome of style today.” He was attired in a plain white T-shirt, jeans and scuffed leather boots. “These are snazzy, though.” He removed his sunglasses. They were the pair she’d given him last Christmas, similar to the kind James Dean used to wear. They were even trademarked with the actor’s name.

      She looked him over. “In that getup, you really could be him.”

      “Oh, sure.” He mocked the comparison, even if he was flattered by it. “Maybe I should get a Porsche like his, the one he smashed himself up in.”

      She sucked in her breath, as if the wind had just been knocked out of her. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

      “I was just goofing around.” And being stupid, he supposed. He should’ve known that she wouldn’t think his comment was funny. “It was a great car, a 550 Spyder that he was driving on his way to a race. That’s a pretty good reason for me to get one.”

      She stared at him, unmoving, unblinking. “I’d prefer that you didn’t.”

      He leaned against the doorjamb, trying to ease the tension.

      “Are СКАЧАТЬ