by Kelly Dawson
“I will get it,” he told her firmly. “Don’t argue.” The stern look he gave her backed up his words, fanning the flames of lust inside her.
She bit her lip. “Yes, sir,” she murmured. “Thank you.”
The food hall was busy, but she didn’t notice the noise or the crowd. She didn’t notice anything but him, sitting opposite her, sharing a table. The setting was far from private or intimate, but it didn’t matter. All she could focus on was him.
Close up, his eyes were much darker than she’d realised. They weren’t blue, but a mottled shade of dark brown, turning almost black in the bright fluorescent light. Laughter lines creased the corners, giving his face character, life. The smallest hint of dark stubble shadowed his jaw, dark hair curled around his ears. Although he was far from the only one in the busy downtown food hall wearing a suit and tie and looking dapper and respectable, nobody else wore it as well as he did. It may not be tailored, or custom-made, but it fitted him perfectly, the jacket not too snug across his broad shoulders, the pants hanging off his hips just so, emphasising his long, lean legs.
He reached one large hand across the table. How had she not noticed the size of them before? Even his fingers were big. Long, strong. Nails evenly trimmed. Almost elegant. Perfect piano playing fingers. Did he play?
Her heart thudded as he picked up her hand, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb. His gentle touch sent sparks flying through her again, awakening all her nerves. She caught her breath as he reached up and swept a stray lock of hair back off her face, his fingers leaving a hot line across her forehead, his innocent touch so unbelievably erotic.
With a grin, he picked up a single hot chip and brought it to her mouth, feeding her. She bit down, tasting the salt on her lips, trying to eat delicately, like a lady, as he stuffed the rest of the chip into her mouth.
“You don’t need to feed me, I’m perfectly capable,” she told him, laughing. “Besides, I have my sushi.”
He winked and licked his lips. “I like a woman who isn’t afraid of eating chips.”
“I’m definitely not afraid of eating chips,” she confirmed. “They’re made of potato, so they’re a vegetable, right?”
Matthew laughed. “You’re definitely my type of girl.”
Jilly felt her face flame. “Am I? That’s good.” She felt shy all of a sudden and looked away, unsure of what to say.
He picked up her hand again, squeezed it softly. “Hey,” he said gently. “It is a good thing. A very good thing. Look at me.” He spoke softly, but firmly, making it clear he wouldn’t be disobeyed, and when she didn’t immediately comply with his request he took her chin in his other hand and tilted her face up to him, forcing her to meet his steady gaze. The authority in his manner nearly made her melt.
Don’t go there, she told herself firmly. You have a daughter to consider, a job to keep. Remember why you swore off men in the first place. Because his hand on her chin meant she couldn’t avoid it, she stared up into his eyes, getting lost in the dark chocolate depths that shone with passion. She knew her subconscious was right, and she should heed the warning. She shouldn’t be even considering getting involved with anyone. Especially not a co-worker who was kind of her boss. Especially not someone so devilishly handsome. Especially not a powerful lawyer who was used to winning, to getting what he wanted.
And he wants you. That knowledge sent fire to her loins. And as he smiled at her across the table, his eyes crinkling up at the corners, his lips parting slightly to show perfectly straight teeth that had probably attracted a massive orthodontist bill, his intense presence stealing away her breath and confounding her senses, she knew she was powerless to resist.
It didn’t matter how right her subconscious was, or how sensible the warning to stay away. Her body had other ideas. The way she was reacting to him right now, with tight, achy breasts and knickers drenched, she knew she was falling for him hook, line, and sinker.
* * *
Settle down, Stevenson. His cock throbbed in his pants, swollen and straining against the fabric of his boxers. Out here in public, away from the stuffy confines of the office, she wasn’t so timid and shy. Glimpses of her personality, her sense of humour, were beginning to show through as she relaxed around him. And the more he got to know her, the better he liked her. The problem was he had a big case coming up. A murder. It was going to trial in just a few weeks and the media had been all over it. A once-successful businessman in a spectacular fall from grace. The sort of thing social media loved. He didn’t have time for a woman. He shouldn’t even be here right now; he should be working. He had to be focused, completely focused—his client’s future depended on it.
The timing was all wrong. He’d been working on this case all year and it was the biggest case of his career, by far. He had to be on his game. He couldn’t afford to be side-tracked by a woman.
He shouldn’t be pursuing Jilly. He shouldn’t be wanting to lift her fingers to his mouth and kiss them.
Jilly had shrugged her jacket off in the too-warm mall and her blouse had slipped as well, revealing the swell of cleavage, the fabric barely skimming the tops of curves that would spill generously out of his hands. He’d never bought into the ‘more than a handful is a waste’ school of thought, far preferring voluptuous, curvy women. Just like Jilly. She might be tiny, but she had delicious curves. Womanly curves.
He longed to reach out, to touch her exposed skin, to slide the silky material back just a little more, but he refrained. He made do with the feel of her smooth chin in his hand, instead. He stroked his thumb down the side of her cheek, lightly, startling at the sparks that shot up his arm. He shouldn’t be doing this. He should let her go.
But he didn’t. Instead, he brushed a stray strawberry blonde lock back off her forehead. He let his eyes glide over what they could see of her body, lingering for a few seconds on her décolletage, imagining what it would be like to kiss her throat. Drifting lower, picturing himself pulling her blouse away with his teeth, drawing her bared nipple into his mouth.
And he watched as, with a cheeky grin, she reached out and stole one of his chips.
* * *
They walked back to the office much the same way they’d walked out, with Matthew’s hand fixed firmly to the small of her back, possessive, protective, guiding. And Jilly had to admit that she liked it. She liked walking so close to him, feeling his solid arm stretched across her back. It gave her a sense of belonging she knew she should not be letting herself feel. You swore off men, remember?
Matthew wasn’t good for her; he was bound to be a player. Weren’t all lawyers? They had the money, the prestige... and myriad girlfriends to parade off their arms. Never mind the hearts that got broken in the process.
Jilly tried to shrug his arm off; she wasn’t interested in being his next victim. But he ignored her and kept his hand exactly where it was. And her traitorous body responded, just the way it had been doing since she’d first laid eyes on him in the office, and she knew it didn’t matter how crazy or stupid this was, she was powerless to resist him. Swearing off men be damned. Her body had other ideas.
Matthew got plenty of looks. Jilly saw them as they walked. Nearly every single woman they walked past turned her head to ogle him. Most of them weren’t even subtle about it, she noticed. They just openly stared.
You’re daft if you think he’s actually interested in you, her self-conscious inner voice warned her. With his looks, he can get any woman he wants. Why would he want you? His palm burned into her back. He’s only going to break your heart, just like Cameron did.
Something in her body language must have changed because Matthew bent his head down toward her. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice full of concern.
Jilly shook her head. How could she tell him her fears? That she wasn’t interested in another relationship, ever? He’d just been so sweet to her, buying her lunch and everything. She couldn’t.
She forced a smile to her face. “I’m okay,” she insisted. �
��Just thinking about my daughter, and all the work I have to catch up on. I should have stayed in and worked.” His eyes darkened in silent warning, and she swallowed. “But I had a nice time. Thank you,” she added quickly, not wanting him to scold.
“I’m glad you enjoyed our lunch, but you should not even be considering missing your lunchbreak. I told you already, it’s not healthy. Don’t you let me catch you voicing such ideas again, Miss Watson.”
His scolding tone nearly undid her.
She swallowed. “Yes, sir,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
He’s nothing like Cameron, the more romantic, hopeful side of her inner voice insisted. He’s kind and sweet and sexy and... she exhaled heavily. So was Cameron, the sensible inner voice pointed out. And he had been, at least at first. Cameron had swept her off her feet, showering her with flowers and expensive meals out. She’d loved him, and she’d thought he loved her. But then she’d gotten pregnant and everything had changed. Men are all the same, her cynical inner voice stated. Matthew is going to break your heart just as surely as Cameron did, if you let him.
Jilly suppressed a groan. Vanessa had just gotten into the lift as they stepped into the grand glass foyer with the grey marble floor and held it open for them with her hands against both side of the open doors, grinning widely. Jilly didn’t even have to guess to know what she was thinking—it was written all over her face. She felt herself blush. Again. She’d have to invest in better coverage foundation. This blushing business was getting ridiculous. For the second time in one day, she felt like a teenager on a first date.
“Get to work, Miss Watson,” Matthew ordered as he dropped her at her desk and headed to his own office up the corridor. “Don’t let me catch you gossiping.”
“No, sir. I mean yes, sir, I mean...” She broke off, flustered, as he grinned and continued walking and Vanessa erupted in giggles.
“You’ve got it bad, girl!”
“I do not!” Jilly denied hotly.
“You like the bossy ones, do you?”
“No!” Cameron hadn’t been bossy. He’d been the opposite. Amenable to a fault, leaving her to make most of the decisions.
Still giggling, Vanessa patted her shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m just teasing. But I know why you turned me down for lunch! I’d turn me down for lunch with him, too!”
Jilly shook her head. “It wasn’t like that.”
Vanessa laughed. “Sure it wasn’t. So where did you go? What did you do? What did he say? What’s he like?”
The questions came thick and fast and Jilly couldn’t get a word in edgeways.
“It was a very innocent lunch,” Jilly insisted. “He didn’t really say anything interesting. Truly.” Except for telling you you’re his type of girl.
Vanessa raised an eyebrow. “You expect me to believe that? You have lunch with a spunky lawyer but it was dull and boring and completely unmemorable?”
Jilly just smiled in a way that she hoped was both bored and mysterious. “Yep.” She glanced across the office. Janice was watching them, peering at them over the top of her glasses with her lips pursed in a way that made Jilly feel like a naughty schoolgirl.
“Janice is watching,” Jilly warned her friend. “You better go. Don’t want you getting in trouble.”
“Yeah, better get back to the grindstone,” Vanessa agreed. “But this isn’t finished!” she insisted. “I want to know everything! Every little detail.”
“There’s nothing to tell!” Jilly insisted again, but Vanessa was already walking away.
Chapter Four
Preparing for trial, the biggest of his career so far, kept Matthew busy. Too busy. He was in his office first thing in the morning and often didn’t leave until nearly midnight, leaving him no time for anything else. No time to take Jilly out for lunch, no time to make it clear to her how he felt about her. No time to find out more about her, to show her he was interested, to see if she was interested in him.
But sometimes, no matter how hard he tried to focus, there were times he couldn’t get Jilly out of his mind. Her gorgeous smile, the one that lit up her whole face, would flash into his head. The way her hips moved under her clingy skirt as she walked across the office, obviously ever so slightly awkward balancing on those high heels, embedded itself in his brain. He wanted her.
Even though he knew he shouldn’t, he kept making up excuses to see her—coming up with errands for her to run for him, just so he could see her again, see the way she responded to his orders, the easy way she submitted to his authority.
He definitely had an ulterior motive when he asked her to do his filing—in his office, where he could see her. Sitting at his desk, where he could pretend to be busy, he could see the outline of her breasts under the taut fabric of her blouse. His cock hardened in approval as he got the briefest peek between the gaping buttons when she reached forward. Then he sucked in his breath at the glimpse down her top when she bent down to retrieve a paper she dropped on the floor.
The mischievous smile she couldn’t quite hide as she straightened up, clutching the paper, made his cock harden even more. The sassy minx! She’d done that deliberately! He stifled a groan, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He loosened his tie that now felt too tight, constricting his breath. His office was claustrophobic with her in it, way too small for the electricity that was crackling in the air between them.
She finished the filing, turning to him with an innocent expression. “Anything else you would like me to do, sir?” Her voice was a throaty purr, seductive, alluring.
He swallowed, silently telling his cock to behave. “That will be all, thank you, Miss Watson,” he told her in a tone as neutral as he could muster.
“I’ll get back to work then,” she informed him cheerily, flashing him a dazzling smile, flicking her hair off her shoulders ever so casually, before flouncing out of his office without a care in the world.
This was a game to her! Or was it his imagination? Was it wishful thinking on his part? If it was a game, it was a game he was going to win. In him, Miss Watson had met her match. And, if he was guessing correctly, Miss Watson’s very subtle display of flirtatious defiance was actually a hidden plea for direction, control, guidance. If he was guessing correctly, she wanted to be tamed. Claimed. Owned. And he was just the man to do it.
* * *
Jilly was fairly inexperienced when it came to the ways of men, but she wasn’t totally naive. Even to her unpractised eyes, it was obvious Matthew Stevenson liked her. She didn’t even need Vanessa to point it out to her; she could tell. At least, she thought she could. The tasks he’d been giving her to do, while legitimate enough, were not at all urgent. Not like some of the other tasks that were piling up on her desk; tasks she should have prioritised over Matthew’s filing. And if he’d thought she hadn’t noticed him watching her while she worked, he was wrong. She’d felt his eyes on her the entire time, boring into her back, watching her every movement. Of course he’d quickly pretended to be working intently every time she turned around, but she knew. She didn’t have to catch him in the act to know. One knew when they were being watched.
The knowledge that he liked her sent little tingles through her, little sparks of happiness that made her smile. Are you insane? her inner voice snarked. What about Cameron? Remember him? The heartbreaker? What makes you think Matthew will be any different? Men are all the same! She knew that. She’d read enough magazines to know that, stereotypically, men were all the same in their pursuits: they all wanted the same thing. But Matthew wasn’t Cameron. He was different. There was something about him, something she couldn’t put her finger on, that told her he was different. He was trustworthy. He wouldn’t hurt her. Maybe, just maybe, she could trust him. But did she dare?
Sitting down heavily into her upholstered office chair, Jilly looked at the mammoth pile of paperwork on her desk and sighed. If nothing else, flirting subtly with Matthew was an escape. Not only from work, but from life. Even if the flirting never w
ent anywhere—and right now she’d be happy enough if it didn’t—it was a break from trying to figure out what on earth she was going to do. Work was good. The pay was enough. Her daughter was happy and doing well at school. But the eviction notice she’d received in the mail just over a week ago had turned her world on its head.
Ninety days. That’s all she had to find another place to live. Three months. And while it seemed like a lot when she’d first read it, she was starting to realise that it wasn’t anywhere near enough. Not when she still had to give twenty-eight days’ notice if she found a new house and wanted to move sooner. Not when Auckland rental prices were through the roof and there was nothing—absolutely nothing—close by Lilly’s school that she could afford. Not when working full-time and raising a daughter alone meant she had very little time to look at available properties anyway. And not when she had to save up the thousands of dollars necessary for moving costs—bond, advance rent, movers. Maybe even time off work. It was a nightmare. Every spare minute since she’d read the notice had been spent trawling the internet and local papers, looking for possibilities. And nothing was coming up. Houses were too expensive. Or they were in the wrong area. Or they’d already been rented.
Worst of all, she had to do it alone. There was no one there to share the load. Nobody to help her search. Nobody to tell her it would be okay. Nobody to offer up suggestions. It was pointless asking her parents for help; they’d made it clear many times in the past that she was on her own. She was pretty sure they wouldn’t actually let her and Lily end up homeless, but it was possible.
It didn’t matter that she’d been the perfect tenant. That she’d paid her rent on time, that she’d looked after the house as if it were her own, keeping it spick and span. It didn’t matter that she’d always cooperated with the rental agency, never making it difficult for them to carry out routine inspections. It didn’t matter that for the past several years, she’d made the house into their home.