All heat drained from my face. Holy shit. I hadn’t even started my new job and already I was insulting my new boss…right after sleeping with him. I was worse than Sylvie. “So you’re—”
My speech eluded me.
“Jett Mayfield, the stingy SOB who just hired you.” He held out his palm. I didn’t want to touch him but what choice did I have? I placed my hand into his and flinched at how deliciously warm and manly his touch felt. His calloused palm scratched my skin, sending an electric jolt into my lower body. I wondered how it would feel to have Jett Mayfield’s hands stroking the inside of my thighs.
Get a grip, Stewart. After this stunt you’re lucky if you still have a job. Let’s keep it at that.
“I’m so sorry,” I said pulling my hand away and jumping a step back to put some much needed distance between us. “I didn’t know who you were. Usually, I’m way more professional. I take my job very seriously and know my place.”
“I hope you do because I have great plans with you.”
My breath hitched in my throat. Why did I keep hearing double meanings in his words?
“Ready to see your room?” Jett grabbed my suitcase and set off through what looked like a living room, toward three doors. I hurried to keep up with him. He opened one of them and moved aside to let me through. “This is it. If you need anything I’ll be next door.” He pointed at the closed door. “I’ll leave you to unpack. Work starts at eight sharp. I like my employees to be punctual so don’t be late.”
The guy was sleeping next door. With only a few inches of wall between us. I wondered whether he slept nak*d. He sure had been in my bed. The picture of a nak*d Jett Mayfield looking all self-assured and not bothered flashed before my eyes. My cheeks began to burn.
Not again.
Talk about being doomed.
He smirked as though he could sense my thoughts. My temper flared. What sort of sleeping arrangement was that? Was it even legal? I opened my mouth to protest when he pressed his index finger against my lips, silencing me instantly.
“I like to keep my personal assistants at my beck and call. I hope you don’t have a problem with that.” His gaze bore into me, challenging me to show just how much his proximity blew off any sense of self-control. Did I have a problem with that? You bet, and yet I shook my head no. He was just a man, for crying out loud. I could deal with his kind. Besides, I had a million other questions that needed addressing. Like why he employed me and brought me in on such an important job at the last minute, when it’d take me ages to get acquainted with all the details.
“Eight a.m. it is.” My voice came lower than expected and a little bit hoarse, but at least I managed to speak.
“Sleep well, Miss Stewart. I’ll make sure to make this stay worth remembering.” He smiled and my heart dropped into my panties. A big neon light flashed before my eyes:
BIG MISTAKE, BIG MISTAKE!
I had to get the heck away from him, and yet my feet remained glued to the spot as I watched him stroll into the living room. His narrow waist accentuated the broad shoulders and sculpted upper arms that were clearly visible beneath his thin shirt. My gaze moved down to his long legs and strong thighs—thighs I imagined parting and settling between my legs.
I groaned, irritated with myself, and slammed the door a tad too hard.
Chapter 8
When my alarm went off, I could have screamed. I had been right in the throes of a fantastic dream during which I was holding on tight to a hard muscular back while being devoured by soft luscious lips. I glanced down at my wet nak*d skin and the crumpled silk sheet between my thighs. One more second and my nerve endings would have exploded like stardust. Instead, I was left panting and frustrated with a delicious ache in my lower body.
It was official. Jett Townsend was haunting my dreams. As my pulse settled down again, I got up and straightened the sheets as best as I could. What the hotel staff thought of me should have been the least of my worries, but for some reason it mattered because I cared about my job and reputation. Deep in my heart I knew hav**g s*x on a business trip was nothing but a meaningless fling. If Mayfield propositioned, and if for some stupid reason I wouldn’t be able to resist his sexy charm, the whole hotel would know I had succumbed to the temptation and surrendered to his lust. I didn’t want anyone to think Mayfield scored with the arguably professional assistant on the first day. It didn’t feel right.
But isn’t that exactly what happened back home?
Pushing the irritating yet accurate thought to the back of my mind, I implored my brain to become obsessed with something or someone else…and failed. I hadn’t heard a sound since last night when Jett had left me standing in front of my door, which led me to believe that he was either very quiet or didn’t spend the night in his room. Call me opinionated, but I was ready to bet on the latter. He was the bad boy type all right. The type my mother warned me about. The type you have a good time with, then forget about as you go home to live your boring life, while he moves on to the next skirt ready to give him the time of day.
Only this bad boy wouldn’t be so easy to forget because we worked together. I had only two options: either get rid of him or find a way to ease those hormones that followed me even in my dreams. Quitting my job wasn’t an option so Number Two it was. If only I knew how to stop turning into a drooling teen every time I so much as heard his voice.
Maybe it won’t be so bad in the light of day.
Guys tend to be hot when you’re under the influence of either horniness or beer goggles. I was neither, so Mayfield was powerless. Besides, he couldn’t possibly be as good-looking as I remembered. If my horniness wouldn’t stop anytime soon, I was sure seeing his flaws in broad daylight would do the trick.
After a brief shower I dressed in Sylvie’s navy suit, pinned my hair up in a strict bun, and nervously perched on the sofa to await Mayfield’s arrival. Last night’s questions popped back into my mind, and I made a mental note to get answers straight away. First I’d find out why he employed me, and then we’d establish a work routine and what he expected of me. As a professional, nothing could faze me. Absolutely nothing. Not even his lean, muscular body with rock-hard six-pack abs, strong shoulders, and a wide chest. And surely not his stunning green eyes, full lips, and beautiful face.
He was off limits. Forbidden to touch or drool over.
Everyone but him. Got it, Stewart?
I breathed in and out as I steadied myself, centering my resolve in the knowledge that I had it all under control. I thought I was doing great…until my weak body betrayed me.
My heart began to thump a little harder. As I took deep breaths to calm my nerves, the door opened and in he walked… six foot two of toned muscles. I knew I was blushing, but I couldn’t stop. Just like I couldn’t stop my knees giving way beneath me. Thank goodness I was sitting, otherwise I might have landed flat on my ass. Staring at him, I ran my tongue along my suddenly parched lips to moisten them. He looked so darn sexy, dressed in a tailored business suit and a crisp white shirt; the upper button was undone, revealing that delicious patch of skin I had started to look out for. His thick dark hair was shiny, but unruly, and looked as though he’d just stepped out of the shower and didn’t bother brushing it. I wanted to run my fingers through it. Without thinking I sniffed, and a sassy non-invasive cologne intermingled with a more masculine shower gel shot my reserve to pieces. It instantly turned me on, making me want to—
Dammit.
It wasn’t just my body that betrayed me. My mind wouldn’t stop conjuring images of Jett and me, together, doing naughty stuff. I bit my lower lip hard as I fought the urge to jump on his lap and bury my fingers in his hair and draw us onto the couch with him on top of me. His weight would pin me to the spot and—
“You okay? You look a bit flustered.” Jett Mayfieldsat down opposite me and inched forward, lower arms resting on his thighs, as though to inspect me. An amused glint played in his devilish green eyes. The guy was a piece of sin. If he were the devil holding a contract, this would be the moment I might just give in to temptation and sign over my soul.
What was it with my inability to focus around this guy?
I leaned back to put a few more inches between us. “I’m just surprised you scrub up so nicely in a suit.”
He raised a brow. “Was that a compliment, Ms. Stewart?” It was, but the guy’s inflated ego was already so big I doubted he would fit it through Manhattan. I wasn’t going to contribute to mankind’s doom by letting it grow to even bigger proportions.
“Not really. After what you were sporting at that club, even a lumberjack shirt thrown over a spandex bodysuit would be a vast improvement.” My brain only realized what I’d just said after the words left my mouth. Not only was I incapable of keeping my body heat under control, my potty mouth also couldn’t stop insulting him. I swallowed hard and peered at him. An apology rushed to my lips.
“Spandex bodysuits, huh?” His eyes twinkled. “If that’s what turns you on—I’m all for giving it a try.”
My breath hitched. “I’m sorry, Mr. Mayfield. I don’t know what came over me.”
He raised his hand to stop me. “We can discuss today’s schedule over breakfast. And please call me Jett. We’ll have to work together around the clock, so we might as well drop the formalities and start getting to know each other better in every sense.” There was that double meaning thing he kept doing. Or was it all in my head?
Stop putting words in his mouth, Stewart.
“Great. I’m Brooke.” I smiled and followed him out the door to the restaurant downstairs, aware of the jealous glances from every single female we passed. As Jett began to talk about my job and what he expected of me in a no-nonsense voice I assumed was his business tone, I relaxed a little and even managed to swallow down a few bites of the best butter croissant I ever had.
It was just a job. He was just some (I admit way beyond the usual standard) good-looking guy lucky enough to inherit the hotness gene. I could deal with him.
I stared at the urns overflowing with blossoming flowers lining the sidewalk outside our window and inhaled the clean, morning air wafting in through the open door. Bellagio was so beautiful and serene; I felt I could deal with anything…until Jettsmiled that lopsided smile of his that screamed trouble. I frowned. Why was his gaze lingering on me longer than was acceptable? His gaze dipped slowly from my eyes to my lips and then to my shirt—or what I hoped was my shirt rather than my br**sts—before shifting back to meet my eyes. My heart skipped a beat.
“Do you like your room?”
I nodded, not quite understanding the sudden change in topic. “It’s beautiful.”
“I want you to pack your bags.” He stood and held out his hand to help me up. I ignored it.
“Why? Where am I going?”
“No need to waste company money on a hotel when I own a property on Lake Como. It’s very private. Very secluded. I’m sure you’ll like it even more than this place.” He signed the bill on the table and tossed the pen on top of it, then turned to me. Danger shimmered in his eyes, and for a moment he reminded me of an eagle closing in on his prey. I felt like butter melting under his sexy gaze full of dark and sinful and forbidden promises.