The Secretary's Bossman Bargain

His breath misted across the tender skin behind her ear. “Because of me?”

Her muscles gelled. Because I want you.

She took a shaky step back, singed to the marrow of her bones but smiling as though she was not. “I always get a charge after being rescued.”

“Ahh.” He drew out the sound, infusing it with a wealth of meaning. “So do I. After…rescuing.” He swung his arm back so her purse dangled from one hooked finger behind his shoulder.

When the pilot announced they were clear, he signaled with an outstretched arm toward the plane steps. “Ladies first.”

She warily stepped around his broad, muscled figure. “I admit I’m not used to your silences still.”

His gaze never strayed from hers as she went around. “So talk next time,” he said. “To me.”

Right. Next time. Like he inspired one to make intimate revelations. And like he’d have another company to take over with the help of a “lover.”

As both pilots conversed with the customs officials, Virginia stopped a few feet from the gaping doorway. Warmth from outside stole into the air-conditioned cabin, warming her cool skin. But she found she couldn’t descend just yet.

She’d do anything to get her father out of his mess, yet suddenly felt woefully unprepared to play anyone’s lover. Especially Marcos’s lover. No matter how much she ached for the part and planned to get it right.

She pivoted on her heels to find him standing shockingly close. She craned her neck to meet his gaze. “Marcos, I’m going to need you to…tell me. What to do.”

He wore an odd expression on his face, part confusion and part amusement. The smile he slowly delivered made her flesh pebble. “You may step out of the plane, Miss Hollis.”

Laughing, she gave an emphatic shake of her head. “I mean, regarding my role. I will need to know what you suggest that I do. I’m determined, of course, but I’m hoping to get some pointers. From you.”

His lids dropped halfway across his eyes. He lifted a loose fist and brushed his knuckles gently down her cheek. The touch reached into the depths of her soul. “Pretend you want me.”

A tremor rushed down her limbs. Oh, God, he was so sexy. She was torn between latching on to his tempting, unyielding lips and running for her life. “I will, of course I will,” she breathed.

A cloak of stillness came over her—so that all that moved, all she was aware of, was his hand. As he trailed his thumb down to graze her shoulder and in a ghost of a touch swept a strand of hair back, he swallowed audibly. “Look at me like you always do.”

“How?”

“You know how.” There was so much need in his eyes, a thirst she didn’t know how to appease, which called to a growing, throbbing, aching void inside of her. “Like you care for me, like you need me.”

“I do.” She shook her cluttered head, straightening her thoughts. “I mean, I am. I will.”

She shut her eyes tight, fearing he would see the truth in them. Fearing Marcos would realize she’d been secretly enamored of him all along. Since the very first morning she’d stepped into his office, she had wanted to die—the man was so out of this world. So male. So dark.

And now…what humiliation for him to discover that, if he crooked his finger at her, Virginia would go to him.

He chuckled softly—the sound throaty, arrogant, male. “Good.”

His large hand gripped her waist and urged her around to face the open plane door a few feet away. She went rigid at the shocking contact. Longing flourished. Longing for more, for that hand, but on her skin and not her clothes, sliding up or down, God, doing anything.

Dare she dream? Dare she let herself long just a little, without feeling the remorse she always did? Like she could indulge in a healthy fantasy now and then?

She wiggled free, sure of one thing: dissolving into a puddle of want was not what she should be doing just now.

“But…what do you want me to do, exactly?” she insisted, carefully backing up one step as she faced him. His eyebrows met in a scowl. He didn’t seem to like her retreating. “This is important to you, right?” she continued.

“Señor Allende, pueden bajar por favor?”

Spurred to action by the voices on the platform, Virginia descended the steps. Marcos quickly took his place beside her.

They followed two uniformed officials toward a rustic, one-story building rivaled in size by Marcos’s jet. A small control tower, which looked abandoned at this hour, stood discreetly to the building’s right. A gust of hot, dry wind picked up around them, bouncing on the concrete and lifting the tips of her hair.

Virginia grabbed the whirling mass with one hand and pinned it with one fist at her nape. Marcos held the glass doors open for her. “No need to pretend just now, Miss Hollis,” he said. “We can do that later.”