Page 25 of Unbuttoning Her Brooding Boss

Jack stood in the doorway, transfixed by the expression on her face. She looked as if she’d never before seen something so seductive or so decadent. Which totally didn’t make sense. Hadn’t he seen pictures of her various escapades? Didn’t she talk up all the luxuries in town?

He glanced down at her legs. Beneath the prim hemline of her dress her skin looked pale—which was interesting, given she’d been talking about her amazing trip to New Zealand when he’d last skimmed her blog—swimming with dolphins and bungee-jumping had been listed in that post. But had she spent her time there staring at her computer screen, obsessing over her number of views, instead of staying in the water and playing in the sun?

He didn’t really care, because her half-smile now was so genuine and so full of sensual promise. Her eyes were lit, gleaming blue-green. It was as if her ‘blogalista’ veneer had fallen away and she was complete—so much more than the facade she first presented. There was depth there now. And desire.

Desire that also ravaged through him.

He almost suggested that she strip out of her dress—that he’d run a bath for her there and then. He’d soap her... help her relax... But, while the sparks between them were undeniable, it was still too soon. She was skittish. Only minutes before she’d backed away. And he’d been stunned when she’d fallen asleep three-quarters of the way along the drive here. She’d looked vulnerable and sweet. Her make-up, her whole ‘look’, was a mask for her to hide behind. She wasn’t anywhere near the confident confection she projected herself as being—hell, she’d cried out for help in her sleep.

The question waswhy.

Jack Wolfe knew when someone was holding something back—when they had something they didn’t want to share. Eye contact faltered, conversation topics changed quickly... Yeah, he knew the hurt of having secrets withheld from him. His parents had held out on him for years. And even if it had been done for love—to protect him—it still hurt.

And it had hurt his ability to trustanyone.

He could make a quick call and get his PI to check her out—but he didn’t want to, because he also knew how finding the truth in that way could hurt just as badly as not being told at all. He’d prefer she talked to him herself.

Okay, he wanted her to do something much more personal thantalk.

So she had demons? Everyone did. Especially him. Right now talking about them wasn’t what mattered—what mattered was getting away from them. And that was the one thing he and she could do together. They could have the most fantastic few hours of escape. And he ached for it.

From the moment he’d seen her, walking across that hotel foyer as cool as a cucumber and yet with those deeply expressive eyes, he’d been in her thrall. And right now she was looking at him as if she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

Utterly, passionately, inevitably.

‘You hungry?’ he asked.

‘Pardon?’

Her voice sounded husky, and he saw that startled look enter her eyes.

He bit back a smile. Yeah, still skittish. But he’d get there. Like a hunter closing in on his pretty prey, he enjoyed the chase. The seduction. Because the need to conquer was so keen.

He didn’t care about the call from Bella. The report he ought to be writing could wait. For once he wanted to push everything else to the side while he concentrated on taking this challenge of a woman to the limits of her sexual pleasure.

‘Food,’ he explained, in a word of one syllable, because that was all his overheated brain could manage. ‘You want to eat?’

‘I... don’t...’

‘Steak? Fish? Vegetables? Or does eating ruin your “look”?’ Jack needled.

‘I can’t stay...’ Her voice tailed away on a husky rasp.

Sure she could. And shewould.

But for now he smiled, trying to pull back on the smouldering erotic embers threatening to flare up between them. ‘You can’t drive all that way back without decent sustenance. What can I order for you?’

The emerald in those gleaming eyes deepened. ‘Surprise me.’

There was a charged silence while he fought to stay in control of his own damn libido.

‘How do we order?’ she asked huskily. ‘Are we allowed to break out our phones?’

‘You can make a call if you want—but you know what will happen.’

He watched her think about it, willed her to take up the challenge. To lose that stupid bet.

She hadn’t figured out that he’d used his phone while she slept. He wouldn’t tell her until she asked. He wanted to kiss her more than to own up right now. And he didn’t care if that made him a jerk.

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