The Boss's Virgin

‘Johnny rarely if ever sees his mother. I think he needs women in his life; I don’t want him to grow up in an all-male world. It isn’t healthy.’

She couldn’t argue with that. She believed children needed two parents—she knew she had needed, longed for that. ‘But surely you have a sister? Or another female relative?’

She knew so little about him; his marriage had been a towering wall between them, and she had seen nothing beyond that.

Impatiently, he said, ‘Why don’t you want to meet my boy?’

‘I didn’t say I didn’t it’s just that I…’ Her voice trailed off. How could she tell him she was afraid to meet his son in case she grew fond of him? The child had already lost his mother; it would be cruel to let him get used to her, herself, only for her to vanish too one day.

‘What?’ he demanded relentlessly, those grey eyes boring into her like lasers. He wasn’t giving up, and she didn’t have the energy for another fight, so with a sigh she gave in.

‘Oh, very well.’ It was easier to agree now and make some excuse when the time came than to go on arguing.

He gave her that warm, charming, triumphant smile. She regarded him dryly, understanding the triumph. He loved to win. That much she did know about him.

‘Good girl,’ he approved. ‘I’m sure you’ll like him.’

‘You’ve never told me much about him. What’s he like?’

‘Me,’ he said, with self-satisfaction. ‘He’s very like me.’

Sarcastically she murmured, ‘Oh, well, I’m sure he’s gorgeous, then.’

Randal looked at her through his lashes with an intimate, mocking amusement, making her heart knock at her ribcage; she expected him to make some tart come-back, but at that moment their main course arrived and they began to eat.

They spoke very little; she wondered if he was silent be

cause he had achieved his objective in getting her to agree to meet his son, and no longer had much to say. That would be typical of him; he was a very focused man, concentrated on getting his own way.

When they had finished their main course Randal asked if she would like a pudding, but she shook her head.

‘If I eat any more I’ll never be able to sleep tonight.’

He nodded. ‘I won’t have anything else, either. Coffee?’

‘No, that might keep me awake, too.’ It was half past ten by then, and she couldn’t stop yawning, so she was sure she would sleep, but coffee might be a mistake.

‘Tired?’

She yawned again, nodded. ‘Sorry. It has been a fraught day. I’ve used up all my energy.’ She rose. ‘I must get some sleep; I’ll have a lot to do tomorrow. I’ll go home, write to the insurance company and resign, and tell them I’m selling my home, then I must talk to an estate agent and put the cottage on the market.’

They walked up the wide, creaking stairs together a few minutes later. ‘What time shall we have breakfast?’ he asked, and she looked at him impatiently.

‘You have it whenever you like!’

‘I want to have it with you,’ he said in a coaxing voice, giving her that smile.

‘How do I know what time I’ll wake up? I didn’t ask for a wake-up call. I may sleep late.’ They arrived at her door. Her key in her hand, she faced him, chin up. ‘Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight,’ he said, turning away.

She breathed a little easier; she had had an uneasy feeling he might not go too readily and had been nerving herself for a fight. He turned the corner in the corridor and his footsteps faded. Putting the key in the lock, she opened the door and began to go into her room. A second later Randal was inside too and the door was shut. She hadn’t even heard him coming.

Angrily, she blazed at him. ‘Get out! How dare you? Do I have to scream the place down?’

Randal grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her hungrily, his mouth a sensual temptation. Head swimming, eyes closed, she swayed in his arms, trying desperately not to go under, struggling not to surrender to the physical glamour of his kiss, his touch, his body pressing against hers.

The trouble was, she could never fight her attraction to him. She might stay cool and collected when he was talking to her—she could fight her feelings so long as he didn’t touch her. But as soon as she was in his arms she felt herself weakening, yielding to the powerful erotic sensations he awoke in her. Her mind could not control her body. She felt as though her brain was submerged beneath some level of consciousness her waking mind could not reach. She was helpless in the grip of a desire that beat inside her, deep and harsh and driven, sending wild vibrations through her and silencing all rational thought.