Page 21 of Contracted and Claimed By The Boss

Paige squeezed her eyes shut, waves of feelings rocking her to the core, from embarrassment to disbelief to impatient shock.

‘Just a second, honey.’

His voice was almost completely steady. Almost, but Paige heard the hint of huskiness to it and had to bite her lip to stop from reacting because even that was so sexy.

He grabbed his shirt and pulled it on, stood stock-still for a couple of seconds longer, then, looking completely like himself, strode to the door.

‘Wait here,’ he barked, eyes sweeping over her on the smallest exhalation, but Paige trembled in response.

‘I need you to sign this form.’ Amanda’s disembodied voice came down the hallway but Paige didn’t hear anything else. The door latched closed behind Max, giving Paige complete privacy once more.

Alone in his office, she felt the cobwebs of desire began to clear, leaving her with conflicting feelings. She knew she wouldn’t have regretted sleeping with him, but maybe Amanda’s interruption had been for the best?

Maybe it was a message sent by some higher power that they should think carefully about what they’d been about to do. Attraction was one thing, but how could they continue living together for the next three months if they slept together?

And would Paige be able to do her job properly?

It was obvious that Amanda needed help, that Max needed help, and Paige was determined to be the person that could render that assistance, but if she was distracted by this, whatever the hell ‘this’ was, then how could she make that work?

She dressed slowly, almost as if she was tempting fate, seeing if it would deliver him back to the office before she could finish putting her clothes on, but it didn’t. Not only had Paige pulled on her clothes and finger-combed her hair before he returned, she’d also studied the photos on his wall until they were committed to memory. Mostly, they were photographs of the ocean and pearl-farming operations, beautiful snaps that had a professional quality, the flat-bottomed boats lined up at sunset, workers just silhouettes against the orange-tinged sky, thick-trunked trees that she somehow just knew belonged to the forest at his doorstep, and a picture of two young boys, so similar except for their eyes—one had eyes of ice, the other of coal, but they were both strikingly handsome with square-set jaws and determined mouths.

She lifted a finger to Max, touching his lips, her fingertip tingling, then she quickly dropped her hand from the glass front of the picture as the door clicked and he strode back into the room, those same ice-blue eyes sweeping over Paige in one motion as a muscle jerked in his jaw.

‘Okay?’ she prompted, skimming his face. Something tangled in her chest. Pity. A desire for this man, and also a desire to take away his worries, to ease this burden.

‘Just time for one last shouting match before bed,’ he said with a shake of his head, rubbing his hand over his jaw. They were worker’s hands, showing that, while he was a billionaire, he still prided himself on the manual parts of running the pearl farm.

‘Paige—’ He looked at her, frowned, at a loss for words, evidently, and she didn’t want to hear those words anyway. Paige had known the deepest of rejections, had felt it cut right through her soul, but she didn’t want to hear it now, from Max.

‘Would you like a tea?’ she asked quickly, a soft smile showing awkwardness.

He lifted both brows. ‘A tea?’ he repeated, voice deep, so Paige almost groaned. Did he have any idea how incredibly handsome he was?

‘Sure.’ She shrugged, hoping she seemed almost like normal, when her heart was still pounding hard against her ribs. ‘I always think a good cup of tea can fix anything.’

He laughed then, the reaction surprising her, and him, if his expression was anything to go by. The sound cracked around the room like a whip, sending a little tremble down Paige’s spine. It was desire—but not just for him physically. For his laugh. His smile. She pushed the thoughts away: unwelcome and treacherous.

‘I hate to break it to you, but that theory seems at odds with reality.’

‘We’ll see,’ she challenged. ‘It’s always worked for me.’

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ‘Has it?’

Paige thought about that. There were plenty of times in her life when it had, in fact, failed, but it had calmed her nerves at their most frazzled and given her time to gain a little more perspective. ‘It helps,’ she amended ruefully.

‘I’ll have a coffee,’ he said after a beat.

‘At this hour?’

‘It’s a compromise.’

She smiled, relieved in the depths of her stomach that they weren’t going to part ways, yet.

‘But let’s sit outside.’ His eyes dropped to her mouth, lingered there, and Paige’s heart sped up again. ‘I—need some fresh air.’

The balcony that wrapped the perimeter of the house was wide enough to comfortably accommodate furniture and several different pieces had been arranged at intervals around it. There was a white wicker daybed with a perfect view of the beach, and then, a little further around the corner, two deep chairs with beige cushions, a single footrest and a rounded coffee table between them.

She chose the one with the footrest, putting her feet on it and listening to the sound of crashing waves, aware on a subliminal level of how that sound echoed the torrent of her pulse. The mood had changed, but something had been set in motion between them so Paige knew it was no longer a question of ‘if’ but when they slept together. Anticipation made her nerves skittle even as that certainty was somehow calming.

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