Page 26 of Teasing Her Grumpy Boss

She thought about taking him up on that—a good six months? That would serve him right. But then she turned and saw him there in suit trousers and no shirt and desire rose again—together with the panic. ‘It’ll be a couple of nights tops.’

He shrugged. ‘There’s anen suitethrough that door,’ and he left the room.

She breathed out and went straight to the bathroom. It was a wet room—a large shower space and central drain. Multi shower jets pointed at her. It was too good to ignore.

She stripped off, savoured the scent of Daniel on her skin and quickly turned the water on hot.

* * *

Lucy didn’t sleep a wink but made a show of staying in her room until well after midday. She waited for the muffled sounds to disappear and then finally she ventured out. Opened her door to peek and listen again, Silence. She walked out and, following the hall, found the main living area, taking her time to actually notice the surroundings this time. Beautifully decorated—perfect paintwork, the furniture expensive and comfortable looking, but the whole place was so, so… boring was the only word for it. The entire apartment could be a display in a posh furniture store. She looked about for some element of personality. Something to tell her a little more about Daniel. But there was nothing. She figured that told her as much as anything.

The colours were warm—chocolate blended with neutrals and greys. Totally tasteful. The kitchen showed no sign of life—no notice board with scrawled numbers, no pile of paperwork on the desk in the corner. Magnificently minimalist. Lucy liked maximalist. Colour and chaos and life.

Even his bookcases were unnaturally neat—stacked with big hardback books that looked as if they’d take a lifetime to read. Then she found it. One solitary photograph framed in a dark wooden frame standing in place of some books in one of the bookcases lining the wall opposite the windows. She picked it up.

Daniel in full legal regalia—wig and gown, standing next to an older man also in wig and gown. It had to be his father. Had to be. They had the same jaw, same nose, Daniel stood only an inch or two taller, the old and the new. The similarities were striking—except for the eyes. His father’s were brown—plain brown. But Daniel’s were that wild tawny colour, with those amber lights hinting at the warmth and passion and humour that he seemed so determined to hide. In the photo his expression was serious. veiled. All remote austerity again—just like this apartment. She frowned.

* * *

Daniel watched her, screened behind the fine light curtain half drawn across the open balcony doorway. She was taking her time over that photo. He stood, his discomfort at having her in his apartment finally impelling him to move. Daniel didn’t entertain here. He far preferred to stay at his lover’s place so he could leave early in the morning and avoid any moments of intimacy over breakfast—moments that might lead the lady to think a relationship may be in the offing. Daniel didn’t do relationships.

But Lucy wasn’t such a lover. They’d had sex but that was it. Supposedly. He’d said himself it would only be the once. But he had to admit he’d really, really enjoyed it. She’d been wild. And his body had revelled in the heat and softness of hers.

He felt keyed up—as he had all night, knowing she was under his roof. For a moment there, after they’d had sex, he’d slept as comfortably as if he were in a bed made with pure cotton sheets and soft coverings, not on top of an old scarred pool table with scratchy felt.

Knowing that had happened made him tense, wary, and more determined to push her away than pull her close. Despite his basic instinct telling him to have her again. Right now his muscles and his mind were strung out from warring with each other, and with analysing why she’d been pushing too—away.

‘Seen enough?’

She jumped a clear foot. Stared as he walked in from the balcony. ‘I thought you weren’t here.’

‘Clearly’. He pointedly looked at the picture still in her hand.

But it seemed she had no qualms about her inquisitiveness. ‘This your dad?’

He nodded. Regular Sherlock Holmes, she was.

‘Did your mum take the photo?’

He froze, blood colder than a snake’s. ‘No.’

‘Is it your graduation?’

So she’d moved on from the family questions. Excellent. ‘Admission to the Bar.’ Having secured his law degree, he’d then had to take some professional papers to be able to practice law. This was the formal presentation of that achievement.

‘Your mum wasn’t there?’

Damn. ‘She was there.’ Second to back row. She’d been late and almost not got a seat.

Lucy was silent as she looked over the shelves again. He counted the beats before her curiosity won.

‘No other family photos?’

Eight. Not bad—he’d been starting to think she’d be able to contain it. Should have known better. Lucy lacked control. He already knew that. ‘No other family.’

‘What about your mum?’

No stopping her now.

---