Page 29 of Resisting Her Playboy Boss

When she went out to the kitchen he was waiting with two giant mugs of coffee—perfect, as she’d been having some dangerous thoughts about heading to a nearby bed.

‘What do you do when you’re here alone and the weather’s closed in like this?’ she asked, desperate to make innocuous conversation.

‘I read.’

‘Let me guess, thrillers? Gory crime stories?’

‘No.’ He lifted his mug and led her down the hallway, pushing open the door to the large, plush study.

He walked to a bookshelf around a corner, further away from the others. ‘Non-fiction.’

‘Oh, wow.’ Ellie gazed at the partially hidden display. Architecture books. Big, expensive, beautiful architecture and design books. Covering all kinds of buildings—not just hotels but homes and castles, inner-city apartments, outback homesteads and skyscrapers. The works.

‘You’ve got a ton.’ She moved in front of the shelf and pulled a couple out, then folded to sit cross-legged and opened the first book. It was the perfect safe time-killer.

He followed suit, leaning opposite her, soon burrowed in cushions and flicking through books. They talked, compared favourites, argued about the ugly. Almost two hours passed and Ellie couldn’t help thinking that, despite his outrageous flirt moments, his life appeared to be all work.

‘So where do you hang out most?’ she asked, chuckling when she saw his startled expression. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not about to start stalking you.’

‘At the hotels.’

‘But where do you exercise? You play rugby or something?’ Surely he was in a team. He totally had the fitness for it.

‘I use the gyms in the hotels.’

Oh, of course he did. ‘You don’t actually have ahomeof your own?’

‘There’s no point.’ He kept flicking pages and didn’t look up to answer her. ‘I visit the hotels on a constant rotation. I use a room in them. That way I can keep an eye on the quality of the service.’

Ellie glanced around the pristine interior of the place. ‘Don’t you have any personal stuff?’ Aside from architecture books?

‘Like what?’ he asked absently, still looking at the book spread on his lap.

‘Family photos?’Anything?

‘I have some on my phone.’ He shrugged. ‘I guess I’m minimalist. I have an office at the chateau but most of the stuff I need is on my laptop.’

‘And what do you do for fun?’

‘Work is fun.’ He looked up and smiled, ‘I love what I do. Don’t you love what you do?’

‘Sure I do. I really do, actually.’

Ruben, now back in position leaning against cushions, had a sly look in his eye. ‘You’re meaning social fun, aren’t you?’ he asked.

She shrugged as if she weren’tthatinterested. ‘I’m guessing you enjoy your guests’ company.’

‘Some more than others,’ he answered glibly. ‘But not in the way you’re thinking. You were an exception and you know it.’

Yes, but nothing could come of the flame between them—there was no future in terms of arelationship.She might bring tours here but she could avoid him completely if she wanted to.

Thing was, shedidn’twant to.

But she knew that if she agreed to a fling, when it was over there’d be no contact at all between them. It was how she worked and she was pretty sure it was how he’d work too.

The thought of not ever seeing him again squeezed her vulnerable heart hard. She wanted to see him. She wanted to know how his current deal worked out. She liked hanging out, she liked the aura of freedom he had, she liked how he made her laugh. Yeah, she wanted more of his company and she shouldn’t. But if she worked out some boundaries—where she wouldn’t give too much and thus not expect too much either—then maybe she could live with it.

‘I think we should try to be friends,’ she blurted decisively. ‘We should put this on a friend level.’

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