скачать книгу бесплатно
He looked at her, his eyes focussed on her mouth. ‘You have a little cream.’ He raised his hand to his chin.
‘Oh.’ She lifted a hand and wiped at her own.
He smiled. ‘No, you missed it. Here.’ He reached across the table and ran his finger just under her lower lip.
She breathed in sharply and his finger stopped, still pressed against her. She wanted to taste him with her tongue. She parted her mouth to do just that, desperate to lick her lips, to be ready for him. There was a silence. Then he moved his finger again, upwards this time to stroke over her lip and back again. She sat frozen to the spot, melting.
‘Tell me you don’t want me to touch you,’ he dared her softly.
Lissa had several talents, but lying wasn’t one of them. Her eyes flickered and she was silent. He traced her lips again, the lightness of his touch a teasing torment. She wanted more. She wanted his lips on hers. She leaned closer, her eyes trained on his mouth.
‘Lissa?’ he breathed. ‘Do you feel this? Do you?’
The rawness in his voice jerked at her.
‘It’s just sex.’ She pulled back, desperate to retrieve the situation. She thought about blaming the boozy cream, but knew that had more aroma than impact.
He looked across at her, heat and amusement mingling in his gaze. ‘If it’s just sex, why don’t we do something about it?’
She recoiled. Just have a fling? A one-night stand? Go for it like rabbits and get it out of their systems? Again, she was tempted. Damn tempted. She was leaving the country soon—why not have an affair? Gina had suggested she do just that with Karl. Her heart thundered—too dangerous.
She looked at the table. He reached across to her again and tilted her chin up. She met his eyes, now glowing with heat and something else that she couldn’t define—warmth? Gentleness? ‘Because it’s not just sex?’ he said softly.
Her heart drowned in the knowledge that he was right. This attraction seemed to be more than just physical. Even more reason to say no. ‘It can’t happen, Rory.’
His hand dropped. ‘Not until you say.’
When they returned to the office and resumed work things had changed. There was a lightening of the atmosphere between them. She had admitted to the attraction that he had so openly referred to earlier. And despite her intention to do nothing about it, it was a secret they shared, a bond between them. Their eyes met with silent laughter when James made one of his outrageous comments. Fingers brushed when they passed paperwork. She knew he watched her as surreptitiously and as often as she watched him. It was a dangerous game but she thought that she could just, just keep a lid on it. Keep things as they were. They had acknowledged the temptation, but that was as far as it would go. For sure.
Before home time she asked him to check some figures she’d inputted into one of the databases. Standing behind her, he leant over her shoulder, pointing at the screen. She had to forcibly stop herself leaning even closer. She could feel the heat of his body behind her. It would take nothing to lean back against him, to feel him hard against her just as she’d been dreaming, night after night.
He seemed to sense she’d lost her concentration on the work. ‘What shampoo do you use? Your hair smells delicious.’
‘It’s called Esprit de Fleur. You can buy it in the supermarket for five ninety-nine.’ She couldn’t stop the tart reply, a gut defence against his nearness, a way of trying to push him away because if she didn’t she was in grave danger of pulling him closer—literally, physically, now.
She felt his withdrawal and knew he was about to walk away and suddenly that prospect was worse.
‘I don’t suggest you do, though.’ She quickly turned to him.
‘Why not?’ He came tantalisingly close again, his attention trained on her.
She looked back at her screen. ‘Whatever you currently use suits you.’
‘It does?’
‘Mmm,’ she answered as matter of factly as she could, despite her thumping heart and the audible catch in her voice. ‘Lemony. It’s nice. Fresh.’
‘You noticed?’
I notice everything about you. To say that would be to go too far. She was playing with fire already and she knew it. Trouble was, it was irresistible. He was irresistible.
He lingered, perhaps waiting for another move, another sign from her. So with superhuman strength she kept her focus on the computer, wishing the others hadn’t left already, until finally, after what seemed like eons of sweet torture, he lifted away and went to sit back at his own screen.
She breathed out. Close, too close and yet not nearly close enough. Mentally she begged for the fortnight to pass fast; every day was killing her. Why was it you always wanted what you couldn’t have?
Rory decided to take the stairs back up to the office after the breakfast meeting with the client. Anything to burn off the excess energy and frustration welling in him. Damn it. The situation was eating him up and he was struggling to concentrate on the project. So much for forgetting about her until it had wrapped. Who the hell was he kidding?
He wasn’t the most arrogant guy, but he knew when someone was interested, and she wanted him. He’d seen the way she watched him, the way she flushed when he stood near her, had felt her tremble as his hand brushed hers when working at her computer together.
She’d even admitted it—tried to fob it off as just sexual attraction. But it was more than that. He’d yet to figure out quite how much more, but definitely more. Not just attraction but undeniable need, he had to get closer to her. His body screamed for it. The frustration that she wouldn’t give in to it was almost greater than the frustration that he felt from not being with her. It was like being tortured on the rack, slow and painful.
Hell, he should never have commandeered her for his team, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself, the temptation to have her near too great. But he hadn’t banked on how totally it affected his concentration. Then again, if she weren’t under his nose he’d be spending his days wondering about her.
He’d never been bewitched before. It was humiliating and he needed to do something about it. He knew exactly what he wanted to do, but he had to understand her resistance to conquer it.
It wasn’t as if she was totally off men. Hell, she even had Gina trying to matchmake her with her mate. He ran up the first flight of stairs swiftly, deep in thought.
All this rubbish about office gossip was a smokescreen. She was a temp, for goodness’ sake; she’d be heading home to New Zealand in no time. Why care what a bunch of people here thought when soon she’d be out of the place?
They could have a lot of fun together before she did take off. She should be taking in all the experiences London had to offer. He was determined to be one of those experiences.
So if not fear of gossip, then fear of what? He could do scared; hell he was a little scared himself. He’d never felt a pull like this. He could give her time if that was what she needed. Some time anyway. OK, maybe not much more time.
He mulled over that first night they’d met. She’d been so funny. So damn sexy. Her hair loose, her tongue loose. He smirked—very loose. He couldn’t believe she was the same woman so buttoned up in the office the next day. Hair swept back, a frosty manner. That wasn’t really her. No, the hints of the tantalising, enthusiastic siren underneath were all too clear. Her cynical amusement at the competitive interplay between James and Marnie, the enthusiastic way she ate her dessert, her passion for the city, the lust in her eyes when they touched. She wore stockings and suspenders, for heaven’s sake. The woman was a sensualist hiding behind ice.
Bounding up the fourth flight of stairs, he decided he must remember to keep raspberries and cream in the fridge. Watching her eat that dessert with her fingers had given him the biggest hard-on he’d had in years. He’d had to take ages over his own cake to give himself time to regain control before they stood up at the table. Control. Was that what she was afraid of losing? What he could do to her to make her lose control. He ached to do it, every wild fantasy spinning in his head.
She needed a shake-up. He wanted to strip away that frost, strip away that fear and then strip her, literally. He laughed at his crassness.
Running up the next flight, he looked up and his heart seized in his chest. Suddenly he was as breathless as if he’d been running a marathon. There she was, standing at the landing at the top, staring at him, her hand clenched on the banister. He stopped and eyeballed her. Perfect. Time for a little conversation. Without breaking eye contact he slowly climbed the remaining five steps to stand on the step just below her. It almost brought them to eye level. Her mouth only an inch or two below his. Perfect positioning.
He breathed deeply a couple of times and studied her. She was breathing as hard as him and she’d only come down six stairs. It pleased him. He got to her, just as she did him. She sucked her beautiful pouty lips into her mouth again, pressing on them as if she was holding back the words. He wanted to free them with his finger, to feel the soft fullness. He wanted her to say whatever it was on her mind.
He decided to cut right to the chase. Her hand still gripped the banister. He covered it with one of his own. It trembled.
‘I think it’s time we faced up to this, don’t you?’
Her eyes darkened.
So did his mood. ‘Tell me why not.’
‘You’re my boss.’
Bingo. An honest reason and one he felt compelled to overcome. ‘That’s just a situation.’
‘It’s unethical.’
‘No, it’s not. It happens all the time.’
‘That doesn’t make it right. There’s an imbalance of…power.’
‘I wouldn’t abuse that and, even if I tried, you wouldn’t let me.’
A shadow crossed her face. His heart pounded. They could get over this. They had to.
The direction of her gaze transfixed him. Slowly it lifted from his mouth to his eyes and he could see the golden flickers of light burning in the depths of the warm brown.
He was desperate to touch her. Desperate to wrap his arms around her, kiss her. He forced himself to go slowly. Move gently. He couldn’t afford to scare her off him any more than she was already. He cursed the circumstances in which they’d met. It wasn’t great for him either.
‘OK,’ he said softly. He climbed the final step, taking her hand off the banister with his and walking towards her. She stepped backwards. He kept walking. Forcing her across the little landing until her back was against the wall. He took another step nearer so only a fraction of air hung between them. He kept hold of her hand, his thumb stroking her wrist. He could feel her pulse hammering. He stared down at her, searching her eyes. The spark of defiance was there, but so was the heat and suddenly it was all heat. Satisfaction settled into him.
‘We’re both adults. We’re on equal footing,’ he said in a low voice.
She opened her mouth to argue and he stopped her the best way he knew. She melted into him immediately, her yielding sigh spilling in his embrace. His already hard body tightened further in response. Her mouth was so soft, so sweet as it opened for him. He fought for the strength to be gentle, not to ravish as his inner caveman wanted him to. But he couldn’t stop the escalation. Couldn’t control his desire to touch her everywhere, especially there. He’d been dreaming about it for nights, remembering the sensation as his fingers had skimmed from soft silk to even softer skin.
He reached down, sliding his hands under her skirt and slowly up her thighs. He had to know. Yes, there it was. His fingers reached the top of her stockings and flowed onto bare skin. The jolt of desire toppled his self-control and he groaned against her. She rotated her hips against him and he knew she wanted more. The floodgates had been opened and she was kissing him as hard and as hungrily as he kissed her. Her fingers pulled in his hair, holding him to her. He loved it. He ground his hips into hers and his senses sky-rocketed when she rocked viciously back against him.
His fingers traced up alongside the suspender strap. She parted her legs to give him greater access. He slid sideways until he reached the lacy edge of her panties.
He was certain she felt it as badly as he did. Wanted it as badly. He wanted to talk to her, to say it, to hear her say it, but he couldn’t bear to tear his lips from her silky skin and that reddened mouth. He teased her, running his fingers along the elastic of her underwear, and felt her try to spread her legs further against the tightness of her skirt.
He let her pull back from his kiss to gasp for air, pressing his mouth along the length of her throat as her head fell back to rest against the wall. Still his fingers teased even though her gasps and wriggling hips told him of her growing impatience. He smiled against the skin exposed at the top of her shirt, breathing in her flowery freshness. And then he felt her hands on the back of his thighs, felt the heat from them through his trousers as they swooped upwards, felt the pressure as they squeezed his butt, and he knew he was in trouble. Inner caveman began to assert dominance. Enough teasing. He cupped her mound with the flat of his palm, while stroking his fingers lower, deeper between her legs; he felt the dampness through the silk and lace and almost shook with need. He very nearly ripped the fabric away so he could taste her there with his mouth.
Then he heard it. The slamming of the stairwell door above. He pulled away from her, staring into her eyes. She stared back at him in confusion, the dazed look almost killing him. He wanted to keep going so bad. But not now, not here. He jerked his head in the direction that footsteps were approaching. He saw her eyes widen in shock as she registered their downward descent.
‘Damn,’ he muttered, wanting to swear far harder and louder. She pulled at her skirt in panic and deftly he took her by the arm and led her down. They seemed to fly. Excitement drove him. She couldn’t deny it now. She was as hot for him as he was for her. Lovers. He could hardly wait.
He swiped his pass and opened the door to the basement, pulling her inside, desperate to get that close to her again. Not wanting the brief moments apart to have given her a chance to build walls again.
Too late. She’d already skated out of his grasp and was facing him square with the icy barriers back in place.
‘I thought you said you weren’t going to touch me again unless I asked you to.’ She’d whispered, but it echoed anyway in the dimly lit concrete car park. Touch me, touch me. It was all he heard, all he wanted to hear.
‘You asked.’ It came out low and rough. He knew he was in dangerous waters with this whole boss/temp thing. Knew her discomfort about it was partly justified. Damn, but he’d been told she was right for the project and he’d wanted the chance to get to know her. And for that he needed time. Contact time. The sooner the job wrapped, the better; he’d make sure they weren’t assigned to the same one again.
She glared at him, her eyebrows raised, but the fire in her eyes wasn’t all anger.
‘You asked.’ He repeated with more confidence than he felt. He wished he could just pull her into his arms again and show her, but the moment had passed.
She made to refute but he held his hands up to silence her. Then he pointed to her face. ‘You asked with your eyes.’
Her gaze dropped instantly, her pale eyelids hiding the gold-flecked brown orbs that told him so much. He saw her struggling, saw how much this thing between them affected her. Well, she wasn’t the only one thrown for a loop. He shoved the inner caveman back behind his rock and aimed to lighten the moment.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said with a laugh that sounded as forced as it was. ‘Next time I’ll wait to hear the request.’
She looked up then and he almost gasped at the torture in her expression. She looked so torn. He wished she’d talk to him. Wanted her to open her heart and mind to him as much as he wanted her to open her body. He wanted the whole damn lot from her. Everything.
Hell, that was a first.
For a moment it looked as if she was going to say something, but then she bit on her lips, the action almost driving him to break his word. He said nothing as she walked past him and re-entered the stairwell. He stood, trying to catch breath, trying to the control the Eiffel Tower in his pants enough to be able to walk up the damn stairs again, let alone return to his desk and concentrate to some degree on work.
God help him if she never did ask.
Chapter Four
OUT of the corner of her eye Lissa watched Rory. He looked deep in thought, frowning at his laptop. She had avoided him as far as possible since the incident in the stairwell. She’d spent the weekend sightseeing in Bath with a girlfriend and had almost succeeded in forgetting about Rory for a three-hour period. The rest of the time he’d been foremost in her thoughts.
Back at the office on Monday the work had cranked up. Now the presentation to the client was only two days away and they were working round the clock. She’d been able to slip home ahead of him. Marnie and James were constant fixtures at their desks so they were never alone. Besides, she had the distinct impression he was waiting for her to make the next move. Fine. All she had to do was ensure she didn’t make it even if that was the toughest thing she’d ever had to do. Far tougher than walking out on her life nearly two years ago.
She’d told him the reason she couldn’t be with him. But she hadn’t realised the extent of her own vulnerability to him. Within two seconds of his touch she’d been his. Uncaring about how little she knew about him, uncaring of the fact that they had been in a public area and could have been caught at any moment. Almost had been, in fact. If he hadn’t acted they would have been. He’d been far more grounded than her and that terrified her.
He’d said she’d asked him to touch her and she knew he was right. In her mind she’d been begging and he’d read it. What a mistake. They’d discovered her weakness together. That he just had to touch her and all her resistance melted. She was not going to risk ruining her career a second time. She wanted to end this contract on a high, not a messy low. But even more scary was the depth of her reaction to him. It didn’t seem normal. This wasn’t your average case of the hots. She knew that if she gave into it she would be on the road for major heartache. A distraction for him seemed to be something more for her and she was too afraid to analyse exactly what.
So she reverted to ice-princess mode again, unable to meet his eyes for fear of what she might see there or, worse, what she might give away. Marnie and James were too busy to notice. And, perhaps, so was Rory.
Suppressing a sigh, she went to find Gina for five minutes’ light relief. She stole a look as she passed him on the way out and caught him staring at her with an expression of such want that she felt herself blush all over. Her eyes darted back to the door ahead. Not too busy.
Gina, happy to hang for a moment, gave her a concerned look. ‘Hey, come on, they’re having drinks down the pub tonight. One of the other projects has wrapped. Come and have a few and relax.’
Lissa opened her mouth to refuse and suddenly thought better of it. ‘Good idea.’ These last few days she’d been working so hard she had been feeling almost reclusive. She was supposed to be making the most of her last few weeks—she should be out and about every night instead of lying awake for hours at a stretch dreaming about a guy she shouldn’t and couldn’t have.
A night out with Gina and the gang would be a great way of relaxing. Rory and the others should be working late again, so no fear of having to see even more of him.
‘Good, you’re looking too pale and miserable. You need a good night out.’
Lissa attempted a grin back, forcing levity into her voice. ‘You know, you’re absolutely right.’
A few drinks, get the whole Rory thing into perspective.
Rory knew the minute the door opened that she was back. He could tell her soft step on the carpet, could smell the freshness that was uniquely her. Clenching his jaw, he welded himself to the spot, refusing to turn around and take in the view as he really wanted.
He looked across at James, who was openly appraising Lissa. Irritation flared again. He didn’t like the way James looked at Lissa, uncomfortably aware that it was exactly how he looked at her himself—with lust. But James, he knew, was only about lust, whereas increasingly he wanted to understand the whole package. Something about her got to him, and made him want her more than he’d wanted any woman.
Next thing he knew she was approaching him waving a piece of paper.
‘Rory, I need you to sign my timesheet for last week. I need to fax it in to the agency this afternoon to be sure I get paid. I forgot to get you to do it on Friday and I’ve only just remembered.’
Well, he knew exactly why that was. Friday. The stairs. He looked up into her face. She was staring at the paper she’d laid on the desk next to him. Not giving anything away. She hadn’t since those stolen moments in the stairwell, moments that he’d been replaying twenty-four seven ever since. He cursed the interruption, desperately dreaming up ways in which he could try it again. The desire to touch her so overwhelmed him, it threatened his work and he hated that. A large part of him hated the effect she had on him.
No way was he seriously drawn to her, was he? Not someone who, frankly, could be more than a little stroppy. Well, yes. Besides, he had a feeling the stroppiness was related to the battle to keep him at a distance. Once they were over that, he was more than aware of the ways she would be able to make up for it. She was fun. He saw the amusement, the humour, all too often in her expression. Why couldn’t they have a couple of months’ excitement?
Realising he’d been staring at her for far too long and that as a result her face now glowed rosily, he jerked his attention from her to the page before him. He gave it a perfunctory scan before adding his signature to the bottom line. Then something caught his eye.
‘Your full name is Lisette?’ He didn’t exactly know hundreds, but he’d never come across a New Zealander with a French-sounding name before.
‘My father was French Canadian.’
He digested that for a moment. ‘Was?’
