Page 9 of Teasing Her Grumpy Boss

She looked put out. ‘What were your other favourite books?’

She shrugged. ‘I don’t remember.’

She turned to the glass shelves behind the bar and reached up on tiptoe to empty the top one of its bottles. Her body showed off to perfection as she stretched it out, only just getting her fingers round the base of the bottles. He couldn’t stand to watch it.

‘I’ll get those for you.’

Her eyes flashed surprise but she said nothing.

It took him only a minute to get the bottles down to her. Every cell in his body aware of how close she was as she worked to clear the next shelf down. He stood back and rested against the bar behind him, unashamedly appreciating her tanned figure. Broad shoulders frames a generous past, tapering to a trim waste before flaring out again to round hips and bottom that begged to be used as a cushion. Shapely thighs closely clad in faded denim—all so perfect for questioning a lover. She’d be soft, and hot and… he really shouldn’t be thinking this way.

He couldn’t stop.

He looked back down to her feet again. The cowboy boots amused him. Then he amused himself further by slowly looking back up her body with appreciation. While she wasn’t plump, she certainly wasn’t a stick figure—soft in all the right places. Smooth curves. Daniel liked curves.

The speed with which she spun around caught him by surprise. The move brought her closer and he found himself staring right at her breasts.

Oh. Yes.

He blinked and with a little reluctance brought his focus up to her face.

She looked defensive. ‘You don’t think I can do this, do you?’

‘Why would I have given you the job if I thought that?’

‘You tell me.’ Her chin was tilted high in a challenge and all he could do was admire the long column of her neck—smooth, olive skin leading down to collarbones that begged to be kissed.

‘You think I fancy you?’ Damn. He did. It have to bluff. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, darling, but you’re not my type.’ That was the truth. Really. She wasn’t.

‘Really?’

‘I prefer a more… Finished… Look.’

‘You mean plastic. Petite. Perfect. Arm candy for the hot-shot lawyer.’

He didn’t even try to argue. She could think what she liked so long as he was covered. And yeah, maybe his dates usually were pretty perfect looking things.

‘Rankles, does it?’ He leaned closer, resisting the urge to get close enough to touch her. Hell, he really wanted to grab and haul her to him. Regressing to prehistoric man minute by minute. Irritated, he went a step too far. ‘By finished, I mean at least combed.’

The flash of hurt and her eyes had him instantly regretting it. Since when was he mean? He was like a kid in school picking on the girl he secretly fancied. God, he was never usually so gauche.

She blocked his glimpse to her soul by lowering her eyelids to half-mast, but his smart mouth and tilted chin were firmly up again. ‘For the record. You’re not my type either.’

‘Really?’ His muscles tightened.

‘I prefer more… wild. Not square or… boring.’

‘Bad-boy type who treats you mean, huh?’

‘No need to be patronising. I’m not stupid, you know.’

No. She wasn’t. She was smart—mouthed at least. He needed to back off. She was getting under his skin in a way he wasn’t comfortable with. Having sex with her wouldn’t be wise. Maybe when Lara was back and the responsibility for the club wasn’t on him, he’d consider it. ‘Okay. So we’re not each other’s types. I’m glad we got that sorted out.’

She gave him one last look that swam in lack of interest and turned back to her shelves. He stayed exactly where he was and kept watching her.

Boring? She thought he was boring? What, because he wore a suit and practised law? She should learn not to judge a book by its cover.

She bent down and pulled up a trigger bottle. Sprayed from the liquid on the glass and started to wipe it. She looked at him in the mirror behind the glass shelving. He didn’t look away. Nor did she and after a moment her hand stopped ineffectually wiping the smears from one end of the mirror to the other. They stared.

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