Page 12 of Teasing Her Grumpy Boss

She trod water at the deep end, checking the time on the clock, and replaited her hair. Then she struck out again for the far end, and with every stroke she tried to think about the club. For once in her life she was determined to do well. She wanted to prove she could—to Mr Type A himself. He’d given her the chance but perversely seemed doubtful she’d be able to pull it off. Well, she’d show him. And it was to Daniel that her thoughts turned time and time again. Instead of drink orders and duty rosters it was the man with the golden eyes. His height and physique thrilled her but those golden eyes threatened to be her undoing. If she wasn’t careful they’d see right through her. Her aggression channelled into adrenalin and energy and she swam harder and faster than she had in ages. She tried to swim him out of her mind, forcing her focus back to the job again and again but failing each time. After a few more lengths, another couple of plaits, she was breathless and ready to get on with her day. She didn’t want to be late. She reached up with her hands and with a push heaved herself up to sit on the edge of the pool, waiting for most of the water to slide from her body before she’d step over to her towel-covered bag.

She glanced along the pool and saw only one of the super-fast swimmers was still in the water, still stretching out with seemingly endless energy towards her end of the pool. She turned away towards her bag and stopped. There was a large expanse of bronzed, broad chest in her way. She blinked and looked up.

Golden eyes danced. Were they hazel or brown? Really she couldn’t quite decide—either way the amber lights were incredible. She didn’t think she’d ever seen such a colour before and they were most definitely wasted on a man.

Man.

Daniel.

Right in front of her and all but naked. Her jaw dropped. She knew it did and she tried to do something about it but the ability to make even that tiny movement seemed to have been stolen from her. Stolen by the five-hundred-per-cent male, male, male obscuring her path.

He was staring down at her. All of her. He wasn’t smiling. Nor was he saying anything. And she felt the path of his gaze as if it had been his finger grazing her skin. Every slow inch he covered burned.

In, out. In, out.

That was how you breathed, wasn’t it? Basic instructions to calm the shell-shocked brain. Except she was suddenly thinking about something else going in and out and what would it be like to have that body all about..?

Not good.

He looked up at her face and she tried to hide the saucy thoughts from his all-too-observant eyes. How long had they been standing there staring at each other like that? It had felt like eons but she hoped time had done one of those weird blips that it did every now and then—when what felt like hours had really only been seconds. Milli, mini, itty, bitty. Just like her bikini.

‘Hi.’ She might have smiled if he weren’t looking so serious.

‘What are you doing?’

Man, he was direct. Bordering on rude. And he made her feel as if she were doing something bad—just by his tone. She’d hate to be on the witness stand with him on the cross-examination team.

‘Roasting peanuts. What do you think?’ Okay. Maybe it wasn’t the best way to start the day with her new boss, but really.

Those gold flecks in his eyes sharpened. ‘You like them dry roasted?’

‘Yeah, with lots of salt.’

‘I prefer mine honey coated.’

Well, bully for him. She grimaced. She bet he had a million wee honey-coated peanuts in his little black book.

‘You swim for exercise?’ His gaze quickly skimmed over her again.

‘I swim because I like it.’ Despite the fact he had the knack for getting her back up faster than anyone she’d ever known, he also had the ability to turn her on faster than anyone too—just like that. Just by standing there, too close. Too naked.

She felt mightily glad he had that towel draped round his waist. The mental images in her mind were dangerous enough. Speedos or shorts? Her brain presented a slide show of the various options. As the water trickled off him, she tried really hard not to watch the path of each droplet down the honed muscles. Whoever would have imagined the body he had going on under that shirt and tie? Incredibly broad shoulders, tight pecs and a light scattering of chest hair that traced down the defined six-pack abs and disappeared below the towel, an arrow leading to…. well.

The silence had been a little long again so she jerked her attention back to his face instead of his body and broke it. ‘You swim for fitness?’

He nodded. ‘Always have. Used to compete. I swim here every morning and sometimes I swim in the outdoor pool near my work on my lunch break.’

That explained the smooth golden tan that showed off those muscles. She didn’t think he’d have the time for much sunbathing. She was impressed he actually took a lunch break. Then again, look what he did with it—worked out.

Competitive swimmer. Competitive lawyer. Over-achiever. No doubt about it, this guy was driven. And here she was wearing only the tiny bikini her sister had given her over summer. Her one item of designer clothing—a gorgeous hibiscus floral fabric cut in a way to flatter. Probably not standard indoor-pool attire if the serious one-pieces around were any indication.

‘I’ve never competed. I just like being in the water.’ She checked out the shoulders again. ‘You were swimming in the fast lane, I guess?’

He nodded.

Yeah. He would’ve been one of the two battling it out.

‘You?’

---