Overtime in the Boss's Bed

by Nicola Marsh

  Thank God his parents were doing the same.

  ‘Yeah, I’m cool. You?’

  ‘No worries here.’

  He clamped down on the urge to push. Rhys needed looking out for, needed guidance, needed a steadying influence. He owed him that much after robbing the kid of his eldest brother.

  ‘Good. If you need anything don’t hesitate to holler.’

  He wanted to wipe the memory of Rhys’s stunned, wounded puppy expression, which had lingered for the first year after Archie died, and would do anything and everything in his power to make his brother happy.

  But Rhys was an independent soul—something he understood, something he missed—and he hated how a small part of him still wished he could leave all this behind and return to the life he’d once had.

  ‘No worries. Later, bro. And say bye to that sexy PA.’

  He clenched the phone as the dial tone hummed in his ears.

  Sexy PA?

  Rhys didn’t know the half of it.

  Callum glanced up from the spreadsheets scattered across his desk, linked fingers stretched overhead.

  Time to quit.

  And set his plan in motion.

  ‘We’re finished for the day.’

  Starr held up a finger, jotted down something on a sticky-note, before pushing back from her desk and twirling her seat around—twice, for good measure—her long legs extended, drawing attention to her shapely calves, making him swallow.

  ‘Good. All these figures are sending me cross-eyed.’

  She wasn’t the only one. Though it was one figure in particular in this office that was sending him cross-eyed, and he was looking straight at it.

  ‘Plenty more where that came from. I’ve left you a ton of work while I’m away next week.’

  She grimaced. ‘You’re pushing it.’

  No, but he was about to.

  ‘You’re going to be virtually stuck in here for the next seven days, which is exactly why we should go out tonight.’

  ‘Go out?’

  To give her credit she recovered quickly, her dazed expression replaced by a genuinely happy smile.

  ‘We’re going out tonight.’ He folded his arms, confident in his plan. ‘On a date, in case you were wondering.’

  ‘A date?’

  ‘That’s right, a date. You know—that thing two people do when they fancy each other. And when one of them screws up badly.’

  He swiped a hand across his face, wishing he could wipe away the memory of walking out on her that morning as easily.

  ‘I’m sorry for botching this morning.’

  ‘Apology accepted.’

  She tapped her lips, pretended to think. ‘You know, I guess we never got around to the dating part.’

  Exactly why he was doing this.

  It didn’t sit well with him, the fact he hadn’t treated her like a lady, and hot on the heels of his post-storm freak-out he wanted to do this right.

  ‘No, we didn’t. That first night—well…there was no dating involved. And we haven’t been in sync since.’

  She leaned forward, and he fought a tremendous battle to stay focussed on her face and not sneak a peek at the hint of cleavage on tantalising display.

  ‘I know the perfect way for us to get in sync.’

  So did he, and the thought of sweeping everything off his desk and going for it had the blood pounding in his ears.

  Crooking her finger at him, she dropped her voice to just above a whisper.

  ‘Dancing. You and me. After our dinner date.’

  The memory of her swaying in time to the music in the ballroom flashed across his mind—the way she’d raised her arms overhead, moved her hips…

  Shifting in his chair, he pointed to his Italian handmade shoes.

  ‘What if I have two left feet?’

  ‘We’ll improvise.’

  Her husky innuendo hung in the air, tempting, teasing, and he struggled not to blurt screw the date and take her right here, right now.

  Glancing at his watch, he said, ‘How long will it take you to get ready?’

  ‘Give me five minutes to change and I’m all yours.’

  ‘I’ll hold you to that,’ he murmured, anticipation mounting as she sauntered from the room with an extra swivel to her hips.

  Callum was a dream date.

  Charming, attentive, witty. Throw in long meaningful looks from those gorgeous brown eyes, the occasional finger-brushing across the table, the constant buzz of sexual tension, and she knew she was in waaaay over her head with this one.

  They’d made it through dinner. Dancing was her forte, and should have given her the upper hand. With a guy like Callum she should have known better.

  ‘Interesting place.’

  His arm stayed glued to her waist as they entered the dimly lit jazz club, the blues beat instantly giving her itchy feet.

  ‘How did you find it?’

  ‘The E-guide online. Said this was the best jazz bar in town.’

  ‘So you’re a fan?’

  ‘Huge.’

  ‘Me too.’

  She didn’t know why this common bond thrilled her, was aware she shouldn’t care so much, but she did, and the faster she got him out of here and into her bed—if only to prove their connection was purely physical—the easier her conscience could rest.

  For, no matter how many times she silently chastised herself that the buzz between them now was merely a leftover remnant of that memorable night in Sydney, she knew better.

  ‘Let’s dance.’

  Just one quick spin around the floor. She couldn’t stand much more of the tension, nor the constant nagging inner voice that continually whispered you’re in too deep.

  He stopped dead, his serious expression belied by the naughty gleam in his eyes.

  ‘I lied to you.’

  ‘About?’

  He bumped her gently with his hip, pointed to his shoes. ‘I don’t have two left feet.’

  ‘Proof of the pudding and all that.’

  ‘I was junior state ballroom dancing champion for two years straight in high school.’

  ‘You can dance?’

  His self-effacing smile merely added to his charm. ‘Don’t sound so surprised. Do I look like a clumsy oaf to you?’

  What he looked like was the ultimate dreamboat—every girl’s fantasy come to life.

  ‘Now you’re just fishing for compliments.’

  Tossing her hair, she took his outstretched hand. Could he be any more perfect? Next he’d be saying he adored sushi and funky jewellery and long, decadent baths.

  With a toe-curling smile, he said, ‘Is it working?’

  ‘I have a feeling you know exactly how good you are.’

  ‘Hey, a guy can never have too much reassurance.’

  ‘Come on, Mr Ballroom Champ, let’s see what you’re made of.’

  Tugging on her hand until she was plastered against his chest, he said, ‘I’m up for the challenge if you are.’

  ‘I’m up for anything.’

  She pinned him with a sultry stare, leaving him in little doubt as to what she meant.

  Brushing the barest of kisses against her lips, he murmured, ‘Then let’s make this dance quick and get out of here.’

  Finally, finally, they were on the same page. Trouble was she knew what the next chapter held, but what about the one after that? And would this page-turner have a happy ending?

  As the sexy, soulful music filtered through the club Callum held her tight, his feet never faulting as he guided her through a perfect rumba.

  She should have been in her element, oblivious to everything but the music taking her to the special place it always did, but with Callum’s arms around her, his body deliciously close, all she could focus on was him. Only him.

  As the music changed, he released her, tipped up her chin.

  ‘Care to rate my performance?’

  ‘On a scale of one to ten?’

  ‘Sure.’

  Trailing a finger
tip down his cheek, she said, ‘Nine point five.’

  ‘What did I lose the half-point for?’

  ‘Doing the dance upright.’

  His eyes widened, darkened at the innuendo, and before she could lose the advantage, along with her bravado, she grabbed his hand and made a break for the door.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ‘I’D FORGOTTEN how nice this place is.’

  ‘Nice?’ Starr glanced up at him, incredulous. ‘It’s gorgeous!’

  Callum chuckled, hugged her closer as they stepped into the lounge room. ‘Guess I never come down here.’

  ‘Never?’

  ‘No reason to—unless the place gets hit by stray bolts of lightning.’

  She shuddered, and he mentally kicked himself for bringing it up.

  ‘Don’t remind me. Coffee?’

  ‘Sure. Need a hand?’

  Her mischievous grin set his pulse pounding in an instant. ‘Maybe later.’

  Excited by her boldness, he watched her dance around the kitchen, circling here, promenading there, every movement lithe and elegant and bewitching as she performed the otherwise mundane task of putting the kettle on to boil, filling cups.

  He could admire her fluid grace all night, but now he was here he couldn’t fathom the strange restlessness gripping him.

  He had to be up early tomorrow, catching a plane interstate, and the thought of having sex with Starr and then running out of here on a tight timeline didn’t sit well with him.

  She deserved to be held, caressed, cherished all night long, but he couldn’t afford the time, couldn’t allow business to slip. The upcoming deal was too important to botch, no matter how tempting the distraction.

  ‘Does anyone else ever stay here?’

  He took the coffee mug from her hands. ‘Thanks. You’re the first.’

  Her mouth curved into a beguiling smile. ‘Lucky me.’

  With his gaze focussed on her mouth, a mouth made for sin, he knew he was the lucky one. And about to get a whole lot luckier.

  She cupped her mug, took a sip, her enquiring gaze never leaving his.

  ‘So what’s this big deal you have going down next week?’

  ‘A possible merger between another finance company and Cartwrights.’

  ‘Sounds big.’

  ‘Huge.’

  Her eyes sparkled with mischief. ‘Must be some serious work, considering you’re booked at a Whitsunday island for a week.’

  He shrugged. For all he cared he could be stuck in Timbuktu when he was conducting business.

  ‘These guys like to be schmoozed.’

  ‘Half their luck.’

  ‘Are we going to talk work all night?’

  She laid down her coffee mug, unfurled her long legs from the chair opposite to come and sit beside him. Her subtle floral fragrance enveloped him, bewitched him.

  ‘I’m naturally nosy.’ She nudged his arm playfully, trying to lighten the mood. ‘One of my few faults.’

  Grateful for the diversion, he drained his coffee before placing the mug on the coffee table.

  ‘Any others?’

  ‘Hmm…let me see.’

  She tapped her bottom lip—a temptingly full bottom lip he had every intention of savouring shortly.

  ‘I have a weakness for sushi, eclectic jewellery, dance shoes and tall, good-looking, commanding men.’ She ticked the list off on her fingers, beaming at him. ‘Not necessarily in that order.’

  ‘Men, huh?’

  Her eyes lost their teasing sparkle, darkened to a beguiling sapphire.

  ‘Well, maybe just one man in particular.’

  Reaching out, he trailed a finger along her cheek, her jaw, her collarbone, enjoying the first flicker of awareness in her smouldering gaze, the sharp intake of breath that signalled she was as ready for this as he was.

  ‘I’m hoping you’re looking straight at him.’

  ‘Uh-huh,’ she said, a second before she leaped at him, captured his face and kissed him silly.

  He loved her spontaneity, her vibrancy, and in that moment it felt great to relinquish control.

  As she straddled him, deepened the kiss, teasing his tongue to match hers, making him harder with every little moan escaping her mouth, he realised a lot could be said for losing control. A hell of a lot.

  Driven by weeks of pent-up frustration, he almost ripped the tight red dress off her body, raining frantic kisses all over her body, her breasts, his mouth wild, his hands everywhere, caressing her smooth skin, getting reacquainted.

  ‘You feel incredible.’

  He moaned as she cupped his erection through his trousers, her fingernails scraping the zip, deliberately provocative.

  ‘So do you.’

  A loud metal rip, followed by her heat-seeking hand zeroing in on him, pushed him closer to the edge, and he swept her into his arms, deposited her on the four-poster bed and braced himself over her.

  ‘Let me look at you.’

  Her hands skimmed his chest, moulding, exploring, and he gritted his teeth as she headed lower again.

  ‘Later. I want you. Now.’

  ‘I like this bossy side of you,’ he said, peeling her panties off, all the breath whooshing out of him at the sight of her lying naked in front of him.

  ‘Good. You’ll like this even more.’

  With a quick grab and roll she reversed positions, her proud grin turning wicked as her heated gaze started at his chest and worked its way down.

  ‘You won’t need these.’

  She whipped off his trousers, quickly followed by his briefs, and he groaned as she sheathed him, the pressure building, his self-control in tatters.

  ‘Still liking the bossy thing?’

  ‘Loving it,’ he managed to say as her hot entrance hovered over him before sliding down, inch by torturous inch, until she enclosed him in liquid velvet.

  ‘Me too.’

  They didn’t speak after that, didn’t need to, as he gripped her hips, arched upwards, driving into her while she rode him with her head thrown back, her breasts jiggling and her hands gripping his forearms. He memorised the moment, taking a mental erotic snapshot of this unforgettable woman.

  Her enthusiasm was a major turn-on and he picked up the pace, felt her tightening around him the moment before she shattered, screaming his name, followed a second later by his own mind-blowing climax.

  She was right. It paid to let someone else be in charge every now and then.

  ‘I have to go.’

  She stretched, languid and sated and incredibly beautiful.

  ‘So soon?’

  He nodded, hating how wrong this felt—him bolting like a fugitive into the night.

  ‘Early flight, and loads to do before then, considering I was distracted last night.’

  ‘You complaining?’

  She rolled onto her side, propped on one elbow, the sheet delicately draped over her breasts, and he swallowed, knowing if he didn’t make his escape now he’d never leave.

  ‘No complaints here.’

  Their gazes met, locked, two people in perfect sync, and that scared him more than the urge to stay.

  ‘I’ll be back in a week.’

  ‘After I’ve tackled that suitably long list of tasks you’ve left for me.’

  ‘I’m a busy man. Would you expect anything less?’

  ‘No.’

  He hesitated, confounded by the strange, driving urge to stay.

  He’d never had this compulsion before, had slept with women who knew the score, who were only too happy for him to leave and head home to his own bed.

  But here, now, watching Starr propped on one elbow, her tousled hair spilling in tempting waves across her shoulders, the sheet draped provocatively over her breasts, rooted his feet to the spot.

  ‘What’s up?’

  He frowned, unable to articulate what he was feeling, annoyed he was feeling it in the first place.

  ‘Don’t even think about going all weird on me after last night, because—�
��

  ‘Come with me.’

  She sat up, not caring when the sheet slipped, making a belated grab for it when his gaze strayed south.

  ‘What?’

  Damn, he’d blurted his innermost thoughts and now it was too late to take it back.

  He had to concentrate this next week, ensure this deal happened, and having his sexy PA along would do nothing but distract.

  ‘Why don’t you come with me? There’ll be loads of work, but you’ll have time to unwind too.’

  A flicker of guilt stabbed him. Work wasn’t the only reason he wanted her along.

  Now he’d had another taste of this delectable woman he wanted her by his side, all night long, for as many nights as she had left here.

  ‘You’re asking me to go away with you?’

  ‘On a business trip.’

  Her lips curved into a smug smile at his clarification, recognising it for the dubious excuse it was.

  ‘Well then, when you put it like that, I guess I can’t refuse my boss.’

  With the elegance of a queen draped in regal robes, she wound the sheet around her lissom body and stood, gliding towards him like a Grecian goddess.

  ‘Before we get caught up in business, last night was just as special as Sydney.’ Her hungry gaze focussed on his mouth before dragging upwards to his eyes. ‘I just wanted you to know that.’

  ‘Come here.’

  He hauled her into his arms, his fingers tangling in her hair as he angled her head, crushing his mouth to hers, his driving need for her needing little to reignite.

  She clung to him, matching his hunger, matching him in every way, and, terrified by the thought, he tore his mouth from hers, dragging in air to clear his head.

  Laughing, she trailed a fingertip down his chest. ‘This is going to be one hell of a week.’

  His sentiment exactly.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  STARR sauntered into the separate office of their beach-side bungalow, determined to distract her workaholic boss. They’d already put in a solid eight hours today—time for a little R and R.

  She hadn’t bought his business trip spiel. Sure, he might like having his PA along to assist with work stuff for the week on Hayman Island, but the way they’d been burning up the sheets she knew the real reason he’d invited her along.