“Who is she?”

“Part of the Santoro family, sort of obliquely.”

“No kidding? I’ve worked with them before.”

Her eyes widened. “You have?”

“Yeah, they built our Dubai hotel.”

Her eyes swept shut. “Well, that’s weird.”

“Is it? Why?”

She frowned. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s more just…random.”

He lifted a shoulder. “I’ve never met her, though.”

“She’s way too young for you,” Louisa teased, relieved to move the conversation to lighter ground.

He nudged her with his shoulder. “The same could be said for you.”

“Hey, I’m twenty-six,” she replied. “Perfectly old enough to have a casual thing with.”

“I’m glad you think so. Because I’m becoming kind of attached to this casual thing.”

“Our two-night stand?” she suggested, batting her lashes.

“You say that like I’m not going to be back here tomorrow night.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Aren’t you being just a little presumptuous?”

He moved forward then, kissing her thoroughly and desperately. “Would you rather I not come?”

“On the contrary…I want you to come,” she said, sliding her hand down his pants until she connected with his arousal. “Tonight, tomorrow night, and if you’re a very good boy, even the night after that.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

EIGHT NIGHTS LATER, HE COULD only conclude that he’d become addicted to making up for lost time. Having spent the bulk of his adult life with Amy, who he now realized he had pretty lackluster chemistry with, he hadn’t actually realized any woman could drive him so completely crazy.

Louisa was every single one of his teen fantasies come to life. And in a little over a week, she had quite literally become the air he breathed, almost all the time.

She was there, in the office, from first thing in the morning until the evening. She was there in her power suits and heels, and bright red lips, shiny dark hair, distractingly manicured nails, with her bright ideas and very sharp wit, making him want to abandon any plans to promote his Sydney hotel and instead take her away from all this for a proper uninterrupted week together.

He was a father first and foremost, and he never, ever wished that he wasn’t. But there had been many times, in the intervening week, in which he’d resented Amy for not being more help.

There was Kristen, and he knew he could ask his housekeeper to do just about anything. But looking after a surly, rule-breaking, ungrateful teenager was definitely not something he could throw at her for days on end. Nights were fine, particularly as he’d started staying home later and later, waiting until Taylor was more or less settled for the night before driving across town to Louisa’s.

He missed having dinner with Louisa; he’d liked that. But he also recognized the practical constraints of what they were doing.

So, they made the most of the few hours they had together, and then he’d sneak out, once she was asleep, and drive back home. And start the clock counting on when he’d be able to be alone with her again.

The office was its own particular form of torture, particularly because Louisa seemed to delight in tormenting him. In meetings, she would purse her lips and hold his eye contact long enough that he could only imagine the way her mouth had looked wrapped around his length, just as she’d promised that first day in his boardroom when she’d done just that. Or she’d stand so close that his hands would itch to reach out and brush up her leg or squeeze her bottom, or brush her hair from her face, or damn well kiss that pout from her mouth.

Many times, he imagined what the advertising team would do if he acted out one such fantasy.

He owned the company. They were Fox hotels. What would they do? To him, nothing. But to Louisa?

And what were the chances that someone eager to make a quick buck wouldn’t sell the story? He wasn’t a celebrity in the same class as her ex, but locally there was still interest in their billion-dollar family when it came to relationships.