Hot Boss, Wicked Nights

‘Not necessary.’

Ignoring him, she pulled out her mobile, but got the answering service. ‘Mum, hi. I’m not going to make it tonight. I’m having tea with…Bryce’s nephew. We have some work to finish. Sorry for the late notice, I’ll call you later.’

She disconnected, aware that Damon had been listening—how could he not?—and that she hadn’t used his name. Was that her mind’s way of distancing herself from him? she wondered. She didn’t want her parents knowing too much about Damon. She didn’t think she could talk about him and not blush. He’d also heard her lie about working tonight. Did he think she had to lie to her family, that she couldn’t make her own decisions? ‘Um, there’s a little place not far from—’

‘Let me cook.’

‘Oh.’ She’d expected to be eating in a restaurant. She hadn’t considered that there’d be just the two of them. Alone. Her pulse skipped a beat, but she kept her voice steady and conversational. ‘You cook?’

‘I love to eat, which means I have to cook. I’m pretty good at it.’ A corner of his mouth tipped up as he glanced at her. ‘But I’d like your opinion.’

‘If you’re expecting to cook at my place, I haven’t been shopping…’

‘That’s okay, I stocked up this morning. We’ll eat at Bry’s.’ He looked at her again. ‘You okay with that?’

‘Yes. Of course.’

Damon turned down the next side street, switched directions and headed for Bryce’s apartment. He’d half expected to have to cajole her into it, but she’d accepted, cancelled her usual family meal no less, even though her stiff affirmative suggested she wasn’t altogether comfortable with the idea.

He wanted to reach out and touch her and not have her pull away from him as she had this afternoon with her coolly formal excuse that their excursion was work-related. Her business side. Where was the flirty girl he remembered from Saturday night?

He could smell her exotic summer perfume. Frangipani.

Keeping quiet about it wasn’t doing him any favours. He wanted what they’d shared out in the open: the most spectacular sex he’d ever had. With the most enchanting woman he’d ever seen. He wanted to move on from there, not start again. He wanted to see more of uninhibited Shakira. A lot more.

He should have told her he knew who she was right off. Should have known the moment he clapped eyes on her again at the staff meeting that their one night wasn’t going to be the end of it. He could play along, attempt to win ‘straight Kate’ over without ever mentioning that evening, or he could come clean.

Tonight.

His body tightened at the thought. ‘Shakira’ couldn’t deny the attraction as Kate might. There’d be no secrets between them, no barriers. Just the acknowledgement that they’d shared something fantastic. And could do again.

But, perhaps more than the fevered anticipation of getting properly naked with her, tonight he wanted her company. Gut instinct told him she wanted that too. Whether he was dealing with business, sports or the female population, he’d always trusted his gut and it had never let him down.

Twenty minutes later he had the wine breathing and a green salad in the making. Kate had taken off her damp suit jacket while he’d changed into dry cargo pants and T-shirt, leaving his feet bare. She seemed to be having a hard time doing nothing and, since he couldn’t suggest what he’d like her to be doing with those restless hands, he’d given her the task of buttering bread.

‘I hope you like fish,’ he said, taking a couple of Atlantic salmon cutlets from the fridge. He drizzled them with olive oil, adding pepper, capers and chopped capsicum, herbs.

‘I do.’

Her mobile buzzed and she licked her fingers before diving into her bag. ‘Hi, Rosa. Ah…’ She turned away and walked to the door that led onto the patio, slid it open and stepped outside. ‘No, that’s a bad idea. I hardly know him, Rose,’ she said sotto voce, unaware Damon could hear her through the open kitchen window.

Damon pulled out fixings for a lemon-based salad dressing and set the frying pan on the hotplate while the one-sided conversation continued.

‘No. He’s not the kind of guy you bring home to meet Mum and Dad, okay? Even if he does look the part in a suit and tie—when he bothers to wear it. Underneath that polished veneer…’ A pause. A breathy laugh. ‘Yeah, exactly. Hey, don’t you dare tell Mum…’

Tell Mum what? He could only guess what Rosa had said that made Kate respond in that breathless way. Probably meant they were talking dirty. She was remembering Saturday night. His hand tightened on the bottle he was holding. Images associated with the conversation were likely to result in acute discomfort.