Page 38 of The Boss

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Beth foundherself humming on Aidan’s doorstep before quickly silencing her vocal cords.

She’d never been this nervous and it was all Lana’s fault. So he’d invited her to dinner at his place? No big deal. But ever since Lana had planted the idea of Aidan being a stayer in her head, she’d been as fidgety as her cousin that time she’d offered to dust her precious tea cup collection.

Beth didn’t do relationships.

Never had, never would.

Commitment led to dependence, dependence to devastation when that person eventually left, and there was nothing surer. If the love of your life didn’t walk out on you, they upped and died eventually anyway, leaving you emotionally crippled for life and she had no intention of being hobbled for anyone.

Yeah, she was excessively cynical. Though she’d rather be a realist than one of those romantics who believed in soulmates. She never saw the point in setting herself up for failure.

The door opened and she fixed a smile on her face, more than a little disconcerted a family of butterflies had taken up residence in her stomach. Worse, they took flight the second she caught sight of Aidan in casual gear for the first time. He wore a navy T shirt, faded denim, and a sexy smile.

“Hey, Beth. Any trouble finding the place?”

Dragging her gaze away from his chest, which appeared so much broader in soft cotton than the stiff business shirts he usually wore, she sent him a flirtatious glance from beneath her lashes.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You sure are.”

She propped in the doorway, enjoying his leisurely perusal, wondering if he approved of her outfit as much as she did his.

“Nice shoes.” His sizzling glance implied the avocado satin ankle-tie-ups she’d taken an eternity to choose were a hit.

“Enough with the shoes fetish already.”

She rolled her eyes in mock exasperation as she slid past him, planting a casual kiss on his cheek as if having dinner with the guy she’d had sensational sex with the night before was something she did every day.

“Anything you say, Fancy Feet.”

She smiled, still not quite believing he’d given her a nickname. He’d appeared so uptight when they first met, and while the nickname was dorky and old-fashioned, it was kinda cute.

In the short time she’d known him, he’d surprised her on many levels; especially with the inventive talents he’d exhibited last night, and the thought alone made heat rush to her cheeks.

“Something smells great.” She inhaled deeply as she followed him up a short hallway and into the most bizarre kitchen she’d ever seen, with its old versus new motif: ultra mod stainless steel appliances clashed with an antique dresser, the black granite bench tops out of place next to an old Agar stove.

“It’s one of my foolproof recipes, from a limited repertoire I might add,” he said, lifting a pot to release a fragrant aroma of lemongrass and coconut into the air that made her mouth water. “Hope you like Thai chicken curry.”

“Love it.”

She slid the bottle of chardonnay she’d brought out of her bag and placed it on the granite-topped bench before pulling up a stool, afraid of how domestic Aidan appeared, the comfortable atmosphere between them, and how much she liked it.

“I’ll pop the rice on then we can relax in the other room,” he said, looking way too efficient as he measured out the jasmine rice, the water, added a pinch of salt, and added the lot to a rice cooker.

Apart from lasagne she could barely make a cup of tea and adding culinary expertise to Aidan’s growing list of talents wasn’t helping the stayer versus fling argument in her head.

“There, all done.” He wiped his hands on a dishcloth hanging on the oven door handle, giving her a prime view of his butt as he bent forward. “Now, for some wine…” He trailed off as he stood a lot quicker than anticipated and caught her perving on him, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Or would you prefer something else?”

Ignoring the way her heart pounded at the thought of ‘something else’, she handed him the bottle of wine.

“As much as I fancy dessert, I’ll settle for wine now.”

His eyes glittered with fervor as he registered what she meant. She hadn’t counted on getting horizontal by the end of this evening, but seeing him look at her with potent desire told her exactly how much she was kidding herself. She had as much chance of resisting him as taking some monotonous desk job somewhere: absolutely none.

She wanted him. Naked. Gloriously naked. Skin on skin. With her.

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