Page 19 of Teasing Her Grumpy Boss

Lucy was whirlinground the floor, arms outstretched, when she heard it. Heavy footsteps on the stairs. Inside. Coming up. Fast. She stopped still. Brain spinning. She dashed for the bar and got behind it. Then cursed herself for her stupidity. If he was after cash he’d come straight for the till. She thought about her mobile phone—in her bag in the back room. Useless. Fear slashed through her but she refused to freeze. She had to fight.

Her mind flickered, eyes hunting for a weapon. Glasses, bottles—weapons which would be used against her. Then she saw it—the postmix—the drink dispenser. She could squirt soda at the intruder and dash for the fire alarm with the seconds that bought her. She lifted the nozzle from its rung and stood square on to the door just as it opened and she saw the manly figure outlined—tall, broad, familiar. Body achingly familiar.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ they shouted simultaneously.

Lucy swore as he advanced and she saw it truly was him. Her heart didn’t know whether to speed up, slow or stop altogether.

‘You gave me one hell of a fright.’ She couldn’t mute the remains of high-strung panic. Snatching quick, full breaths, she tried to calm. The relief washing through her was as effective at shutting off her brain functionality as the fear had been moments before.

What was he doing here? Especially looking like that? Angry, dishevelled and so, so hot. He still wore his suit but the jacket and tie were gone now. It was just his white shirt, unbuttoned at the neck, tails escaping his trousers, and even rougher stubble on his jaw.

‘Well, what are you doing? You should be home by now and this place should be shut up.’

‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to get your precious licence revoked.’

‘So what about the licence? It’s dangerous for you to be here alone at this time. You should leave when the others do and go home in a cab.’

‘I was sorting the paperwork.’

‘Do it tomorrow. With music like that Noise Control will be here any moment.’

‘It’s not that loud.’

‘No, but it is truly awful.’

‘Don’t you like country?’

‘Hell, no.’ His glare softened. ‘Just what were you planning on doing with that?’ He nodded towards her hands.

She remembered she still held the postmix. Devilish temptation called. Not water—not enough power. Cola would stain and the taste brought back horrible memories. It would have to be lemonade. Her fingers flexed. Her hands raised to aim.

He saw the movement. His eyes narrowed. His mouth opened. Before sound emerged, she pressed the button.

Frothy lemonade squirted out, hitting him square on the chest. His shirt was soaked in seconds. He stood still, not giving any clue to his reaction. The liquid raced, leaving a translucent path down his chest, fitting the material to him like second skin.

She stared. ‘Maybe you should revisit the strip-club idea.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Or at least instigate a wet-tee-shirt night. Or wet business shirt.’ She couldn’t stop the huge smile spreading across her features, the burgeoning glow of amusement, the flame of desire, the illicit thrill that she got from his unreadable expression. How was Mr Cool Collected Type A going to handle this?

She lifted the nozzle again.

He spoke. ‘You. Dare.’

Goose-bumps peppered her skin, but her smile still grew. She got him in the hair and face this time.

And then he moved. Faster than she’d thought possible for such a big guy. He took three paces and vaulted over the bar to where she stood. In a split second he had the postmix out of her hand and held it firm in his and she was pinioned to his side by his spare arm.

She squirmed. He squeezed—pulling her even closer.

‘You know you’re trouble with a capital T.’ He waved the nozzle at her. ‘You’re about to get really wet.’

It must have been his proximity that caused her to do it. She looked at the broad chest against her, wanting to taste the trickling bubbles of soda. She wanted to taste him. She breathed in his male musky scent. The hit kicked her inner vixen to life. She replied, a slow, sassy drawl.

‘I already am.’

She lifted her lashes and let the lust out. Unthinking, uncaring. Just wanting the moment.Now.

He stood stock-still, body rigid. His gaze slowly left hers and lowered, to her lips and down—to her perfectly dry top. Then he looked back up—and to her delight the gold had flamed into life.

His arm pulled her even tighter to him and she sucked in a breath as her body flared against the hard feel of his.

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