It Started With A Look

She came with a violent rush, her knees going to jelly and her arms falling back down to her sides. She might have sunk into a wet heap on the floor had he not snapped off the water and swept her back up into his arms. Her eyes must have conveyed her shocked state as he carried her back to his bedroom, but he just ignored them and spread her dripping body face down across the bed, pushing a pillow up under her hips.

Was she too shattered to stop him at that moment? Or was this what she secretly wanted as well? For him to take her like that. For him to take her over and over in every position imaginable. To make her come again and again. To show her…what?

That she could be as wickedly sexy as the next woman? As Charlotte, perhaps?

When he didn’t touch her—or take her—straight away an impatient Rachel glanced over her shoulder, only to see he was busy with a condom. She was tempted to tell him that he didn’t really have to use protection. Not unless he was a health risk. Perversely, she was on the Pill for reasons which had nothing to do with contraception. It simply stopped her from having dreadful PMT, which she hadn’t been able to cope with on top of the stress of minding Lettie.

She didn’t tell him, in the end. Not right then. She wasn’t that brazen. But she told him later, after she realised he had no more condoms and she’d moved way beyond brazen, way beyond anything she thought she could ever be.

CHAPTER EIGHT

JUSTIN stared down at the sleeping woman in his bed with disbelieving eyes. Was that really his prim and proper PA lying there in the nude, looking wickedly sexy with a sheet pulled suggestively up between her legs? And had it been himself who’d ravaged and ravished her amazingly co-operative body all night long?

The answer was yes, to both questions.

He groaned, his hands lifting to clap each side of his face then rake up into his hair. Whatever had possessed him? With Rachel, of all women!

Bosses who seduced their secretaries were top of his most despised list of men.

But seduce Rachel he had. The fact that she’d enjoyed herself enormously in the end had little bearing on the fact that initially he’d taken advantage of her drunken and vulnerable state, blatantly using his position as her boss to pressure her into sex. When he thought of the things he’d asked her to do in the shower his mind boggled. That she’d done everything he wanted, without question, was testament to her not being her usual sensible self. It was a particularly telling moment when she’d confessed later in the night to being on the Pill. No girl these days made such a rash revelation, not unless they were totally out of their minds with lust!

Which Rachel had been by then. No doubt about it.

Astonishing, really. He would never have believed it of her. Not with him, anyway. Still, given the circumstances, possibly any man would have done last night. He’d known that subconsciously. Hell, no, he’d known it consciously. He’d thought about her vulnerable state before he’d crossed the line. And what had he done? Still crossed that line, then wallowed in her unexpected sensuality and insatiability, urging her on to arouse him repeatedly with her mouth till he was ready to take her in yet another erotically challenging position.

His body stirred just thinking about it. Groaning, Justin dragged his eyes away from Rachel’s tempting nudity and headed straight for the bathroom, plunging his wayward flesh into the coldest of showers.

She’ll have to go, he began thinking, despite the icy spray doing the trick. I can’t possibly work with her. She’ll make me feel guilty all the time. Or worse.

The prospect of spending every weekday having cold showers at lunch time would be untenable. Aside from the constant distraction and frustration, it would remind him of Mandy, and what Mandy was up to on a daily basis with that bastard boss of hers.

Yet to sack Rachel would make him an even bigger bastard of a boss. Justin was trapped by the situation. Damned if he did and damned if he didn’t!

‘Bloody hell,’ he muttered, and slammed his palms hard against the wet tiles.

Rachel woke with a start, her eyes blinking as she tried to focus on where she was. She didn’t recognise the ceiling. Or the walls. Or the bed, for that matter.

And then, suddenly, she remembered.

Everything.

‘Oh, God,’ she moaned.

The sound of the shower running was some comfort, because it gave Rachel the opportunity to jump out of the bed, gather up her clothes and escape back to her own room without having to face Justin, naked, in his bed.

Grimacing, she dived into a shower of her own without delay, where she stayed for some time, doing her best to wash away all the evidence of what she could only describe as a night best forgotten.

But forgetting the way she’d acted was nigh on impossible when she was constantly confronted with the physical consequences of her amazingly decadent behaviour. Her nipples ached. Her mouth felt like suede. And she probably wouldn’t be able to walk without discomfort for a week.

As much as she hadn’t felt ashamed of her behaviour last night—she’d blindly viewed it as an exciting liberation from her drab, lonely and celibate existence—in the cold light of day she could see that having her own private orgy with her boss had not been a good career move.

He would not be pleased, she knew, either with her or himself.

Rachel was sitting on the side of her bed half an hour later and wishing she were dead, when a knock on the door made her jump.

‘Rachel,’ Justin said through the door in a businesslike voice. ‘Are you dressed?’

‘Not quite,’ she croaked out. A lie, since she’d just pulled on an outfit from Isabel’s discarded resort wardrobe, white capri pants and a matching white and yellow flowered top, with underwear, thank God. She’d bought a couple of bra and pants sets the previous day. But her hair was still wrapped in a towel and she hadn’t a scrap of make-up on.

Despite regretting going to bed with Justin, no way was she going to revert to plain-Jane mode again. If nothing else, yesterday’s make-over had propelled her out of that pathetic state.

‘We have to talk,’ Justin went on. ‘And we have to eat. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s after eleven and the breakfast buffet downstairs has long closed.’

‘I’m not very hungry,’ she said wretchedly.

‘Maybe not, but you still have to eat something. We’ll only get a snack on the flight home this afternoon. Look, why don’t I order sandwiches from Room Service whilst you get dressed? Then we can talk over brunch on the terrace. We have plenty of coffee and tea in the room, so a hot drink is no problem. See you out on the terrace in, say…half an hour?’

‘All right,’ she agreed, thinking with some relief how very civilised he was sounding. Maybe he wasn’t going to sack her after all.

Any hope of Justin’s that she might appear dressed in dreary black again was dashed when she stepped out onto the terrace looking delicious in tight white trousers and a bright yellow top that hugged her breasts. For a girl he’d recently thought of as skinny, she had some surprising curves.

And some surprising moves, he recalled, doing his best not to stare at her pink glossed mouth.

Gritting his teeth, he waved her to her seat at the table, then got straight down to brass tacks. No point in putting off the unpleasant.

‘Before you say anything,’ he began, ‘let me immediately apologise for my appalling behaviour last night. I have few excuses, except possibly eighteen months of celibacy and half a bottle of wine. Then, of course, there was the way you looked last night…’ Not to mention the way you look this morning, he could have added when his gaze swept over her again.

On top of the figure-fitting clothes, her hair was swinging around her face in a sleek, sexy red curtain, and her scarlet-painted toes were peeping out at him from her open-toed white sandals. She also smelled like fresh green apples, a scent he’d always liked.

‘I owe you an apology as well,’ she returned with what sounded like relief in her voice. ‘I led you on when we danced together. I know I did. And I certainly didn’t say no at any stage. I guess I must have been drunker than I realised.’

Justin was happy to play it that way, if it made her feel better. It certainly made him feel better. Or did it? Was she implying she must have been plastered to go to bed with him? Did she need reminding just how many times she’d come last night? And how often she’d begged him not to stop, long after the effects of that wine had worn off?

She’d been drunk all right. Drunk on desire.

You wanted me, baby, was on the tip of his tongue.

But, of course, he didn’t say that.

‘Fine,’ he said instead. ‘We’re both to blame. That’s fair. So let’s forgive each other, forget last night ever happened and just go on as before.’

He saw her shoulders snap back against the seat and her chin jerk up in surprise. She fixed frowning eyes upon him. ‘You can really do that? Forget last night ever happened?’

Not with you sitting next to me, sweetheart. And looking good enough to eat.

Justin shrugged. ‘Yes, why not? It didn’t mean anything to either of us. You needed a man and I needed a woman. It was simply a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s obvious that both of us need to get out more,’ he finished up with a bitter little smile.

‘So you’re not going to sack me?’

‘Sack you! Of course not. The thought never occurred to me.’

Which was possibly only the first of a host of lies he’d be telling Rachel in future.

‘I…I was worried that you might. Isabel always says that to have an affair with the boss is the kiss of death, job-wise. The girl always ends up being given the boot.’

Not always, he wanted to say. Not when the woman in question is my beautiful blonde ex-wife. She’s been her boss’s assistant-cum-mistress for two years and they’re still together, at it like rabbits on desks and in private jets and on yacht decks.

‘But we’re not having an affair, are we?’ he reminded Rachel ruefully. ‘We made the mistake of going to bed together. Once. But we won’t be making that mistake again, will we?’

‘What? Oh, no. No, certainly not,’ she said firmly, but her eyes remained worryingly ambivalent.

Justin knew then that she was experiencing at least a little of the leftover feelings which were still haunting him.

Damn, damn and double damn! His own dark desires he could cope with. And hide. But he was a goner if she started coming on to him again.

‘One thing, though,’ he went on brusquely.

‘Yes?’

‘Your appearance…’

‘Yes?’

Justin wasn’t sure if what he was about to say would work. But it was the only way out of the bind he’d got himself into.

‘I—er—wondered if you’re intending to dress differently for work from now on. I mean…I’m only human, Rachel, and I wouldn’t want you coming into the office in clothes which I might find…distracting.’

She closed her eyes for a few seconds and pursed her pretty lips. ‘Justin…’ Her eyes opened again and her chin lifted in what could only be described as a defiant gesture. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said firmly, ‘but I refuse to go back to the way I used to look. I couldn’t. I’d rather resign than do that.’

‘There is no question of your resigning!’ he pronounced heatedly. Surprising, when this was what he’d been trying to make her do. Resign. But the moment she said she might he knew that was not what he wanted. He wanted Rachel to stay on, working for him. He wanted… God, he didn’t know what he wanted any more.

He smothered a weary sigh before it left his lungs. ‘You can wear what you like,’ he said. ‘Within reason, of course.’

‘I’ve never been the type of girl to dress provocatively at work, Justin. I simply won’t be wearing those awful black suits again, except perhaps tomorrow. I don’t have any other work clothes till I buy some more. I’ll pop out and buy a couple of brighter outfits during my lunch hour.’

‘Not too bright, I hope,’ he muttered, dreading anything which would constantly draw his eyes and rev up his hormones. ‘What about your hair?’

‘What about it? Don’t tell me it’s too bright as well.’

No, just too damned sexy the way you’re wearing it today.

‘Would you consider wearing it back up again?’ he suggested in desperation. ‘I’ve always thought that a suitable look for work.’

She sighed. ‘Very well, I’ll put my hair up.’

‘And not too much make-up.’

‘I have never worn too much make-up, either. I only have lipstick on at this moment.’

‘Really?’

He would have sworn she was wearing much more. Her skin looked so pale and clear, yet her cheeks were glowing. As for her eyes… He’d always known they were her best feature but had they always had such long lashes?

‘Don’t worry, Justin,’ she said with more than a touch of irritation in her voice. ‘I won’t waltz in to work looking like the office slut. And I promise I’ll wear underwear.’

His stomach jolted at the thought of her walking around the office without anything on underneath her clothes. What a shockingly appealing idea!

Justin suppressed a sigh and wondered how long it would be before Rachel stopped being the object of his sexual fantasies. A week? A month? A year?

Damn, but he wished he’d resisted temptation last night. And he wished he’d never suggested that bloody make-over. He wanted his old Rachel back. She didn’t stir his blood or challenge his conscience. She was sweet and kind and calming. This new Rachel was anything but calming. Even now, he wanted to say to hell with all this conciliatory chit-chat, let’s just go back to bed and stay there all day. And to hell with underwear in the office as well. I want you buck-naked under your clothes. And no bra. Never a bra. I want your beautiful breasts accessible to my touch at the flick of a button. I want to be able to lift your skirt at any time and lean you over my desk and just do it. I want…

Justin’s fantasies were really running away with him when a sudden appalling realisation reined them in. What he wanted to do with Rachel was exactly the sort of thing Mandy’s rapacious boss had been doing with her!

Justin’s blood ran cold at the thought, which was good. Very good. And very effective.

His burgeoning arousal ebbed away immediately.

That was what he’d do in future. Think of Mandy whenever these unacceptable desires struck. Pity he hadn’t thought of the bitch last night. But better later than never!

Rachel realised that her attempt at a little joke about her underwear had backfired when Justin’s back stiffened and his face took on an icily disapproving expression. Truly! It was getting difficult to remember him as the red-hot lover who’d made her do all the deliciously wicked things he’d made her do last night.

All of a sudden, he was acting like some prude!

Still, maybe that was what he basically was. A prude. Maybe he had been drunker last night than he seemed at the time.

Whatever, it was clear he deeply regretted having sex with her and was doing his level best to return their relationship to its previous professional-only status, even going so far as to want her to go back to looking much the same as she used to.

Fat chance of that, buster, she thought with private mutiny. If you want me to revert to plain-Jane mode, how about you doing something about your looks? Why don’t you stack on twenty kilos, and put a paper bag over your head for good measure? Oh, and start wearing grotty, nerdy clothes, none of those super-suave suits you wear into the office, or that coolly casual outfit you’ve got on at the moment. After all, sexual attraction—and distraction—was a two-way thing.

From the moment she’d set eyes on him again this morning, her heart had quickened and her eyes had surreptitiously gobbled him up. Frankly, it had been an effort so far not to keep staring at him in those smart beige trousers and that sexy black open-necked shirt. She supposed she should be grateful that he wasn’t wearing shorts, but she was still brutally aware of what lay beneath his clothes. All that working out in the gym had produced a fantastic body. Talk about toned and honed! She hadn’t been able to stop touching it last night.

In fact, she hadn’t stopped touching it. If truth be told, she wanted to touch it again. Right now.

Rachel gave herself a savage mental shake and rose to her feet.

‘I’ll make us some coffee to go with this food,’ she said, glancing resignedly at the two plates of mixed sandwiches that were sitting on the table. She still didn’t have any appetite and would definitely need help in washing bread down her throat.

‘You don’t have to wait on me,’ he said curtly, and rose to his feet as well. ‘I’ll help.’

Getting the coffee together was awkward. When Justin brushed her arm Rachel jumped away as though she’d been stung by a bee. When he glared at her she winced inside.

Lord, but she was like a cat on a hot tin roof around him. The lightest of touches and her skin felt scalded.

Rachel could only hope that time would lessen this sudden and intense physical awareness. After all, last night was still fresh in her mind. And her body was still harbouring some solid reminders as well. She felt tender in some places and rock-hard in others. On top of that, her whole system was suffering from a general feeling of agitation, which was perverse, since all that sex should at least have relaxed her nerves, not fired them up.

Hopefully, things would improve when they were back into their normal working-day routine. It wasn’t helping that they were still alone together in this hotel, well away from their real lives. Perhaps that was another reason why they’d both acted so out of character last night. A romantic setting was well-known for undermining people’s sexual defences. A woman’s, anyway.

Rachel’s hand shook as she picked up her cup and saucer, some coffee slopping into the saucer. Justin shot her another impatient look, which irked her considerably.

‘OK, so I’m clumsy this morning,’ she snapped. ‘We can’t all be perfect all the time.’

‘I would have thought that was obvious after last night,’ he retorted, and carried his coffee back to the terrace without spilling a drop.

Rachel fumed as she followed. What a pig, she began thinking. And she’d always imagined him to be kind. Why, he was nothing but a typical male. Trying to put the blame on her for last night. He’d been the one to kiss her first! He was the one to open Pandora’s box. And now he was trying to shove her back in there again and close the lid.

Well, she was not going to go. She was free now. Free of Eric. Free of the past. Free to be the woman she wanted to be.

Which was not some mealy-mouthed creature who was too afraid to speak up or be herself lest she lose her job. There were plenty more PA positions to be had. And plenty more men out there who could turn her on. She didn’t need Justin McCarthy to provide her with either a salary or sex.

Despite her disgruntled state, Rachel decided that in deference to having to tolerate Justin’s constant company for the next few hours, she would hold her tongue for today. But, come tomorrow, if he started pressuring her to be something she wasn’t she’d start looking around for another job.

Because there was no going back after this. The die had been cast and she intended to roll with it!

CHAPTER NINE

JUSTIN could not believe it when he walked into work the following morning—a cowardly half an hour late—and found Rachel wearing what he’d always thought her dreariest black suit, yet looking so sexy, it was sinful.

The severely tailored jacket with its long sleeves and lapelled neckline seemed tighter, and more shapely, hugging her small waist and full breasts. Had she taken it in at the seams? She’d definitely taken the skirt up, he realised when she brought in his morning coffee, the hem now a couple of inches above her knees instead of sedately covering them. And she was wearing black stockings. Not the thick, opaque, sexless kind. The sheer, silky, sexy kind which drew a man’s eye and made him picture them attached to suspenders.

When he started wondering just that he wrenched his eyes back up to her face, which wasn’t much help. OK, so she had put her hair up, as he’d requested. But not the way she’d used to, scraped back severely into a knot. It was caught up very loosely with a long black easily removable clip. Several strands had already escaped its ineffectual clasp to curve around her chin, drawing his gaze to her mouth, a mouth which bore no resemblance to Rachel’s usual workaday mouth. It was more like that mouth which had tormented and teased him on Saturday night. Blood-red and full and tempting. Oh, so incredibly tempting.

Justin clenched his teeth hard in his jaw and dropped his gaze back to his work. ‘Just put the coffee down there, thank you, Rachel,’ he said brusquely, nodding to a spot near his right hand.

When she lingered in front of his desk without saying a word he was finally forced to look up. ‘Yes?’ he said sharply. ‘What is it?’

‘Could I have a longer lunch hour than usual today, Justin?’ she asked. ‘I have some clothes shopping to do. I’ll work late to make up for it.’

Justin no longer cared what clothes she bought. She couldn’t look any sexier to him if she tried, anyway.

‘Yes, yes.’ He waved her off impatiently. ‘Take all the time you need.’ The rest of my life, preferably.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, Rachel,’ he bit out. ‘Quite sure. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to write this report for Guy.’

‘Did I hear my name mentioned?’ the man himself said as he strode in.

Justin welcomed the distraction. ‘Aah. You’re back from Melbourne earlier than I expected,’ he said, glad to have an excuse to ignore Rachel. ‘How’s your father?’

‘Much better. It was one of those nasty viruses. He was rotten on Friday and Saturday but on the improve by yesterday. So what did you think of Sunshine Gardens?’

‘Take a seat and I’ll tell you. Close the door as you go out, would you, Rachel?’

Justin noticed that Guy’s eyes followed her as she did so.

He gave a low whistle after the door clicked shut. ‘So that’s your new PA,’ he said, with meaning in his voice. ‘You lucky dog, you. I love pretty women in black. Though, of course, I prefer them in nothing at all.’

‘There’s nothing between Rachel and myself,’ Justin lied staunchly, his face a stony mask.

Guy chuckled. ‘That’s your story and you’re going to stick to it. Wise man. Office affairs are best kept behind closed doors. And hotel-room doors. So how was your weekend junket? Everything to your satisfaction?’ And he grinned lecherously.

Justin decided to ignore Guy’s none-too-subtle innuendoes and plunged into giving him a brisk report on the hotel as a property investment. Naturally, he didn’t mention their not having been to the presentation dinner. He let Guy think they had. Justin had watched the video last night and hadn’t changed his mind about the place, despite the glowing marketing spiel.

‘So that’s my professional opinion,’ Justin finished up. ‘Added to the fact I think it’s a lemon, I also gleaned some valuable inside information from a lady real-estate agent there for the free weekend. Apparently, the client she was representing is intent on purchasing the hotel at any price. I never think it’s a good idea to get into a bidding war with that kind of buyer.’

‘This agent could have been bluffing.’

‘Yes, but I don’t think so.’

‘Mmm. Do you happen to know who this interested party is?’

‘No. Just that he’s filthy rich and has an ego the size of his cheque-book.’

‘I heard a whisper that Carl Toombs is thinking of going into the property market up that way.’

Justin struggled to keep his face unreadable. No one at AWI knew the circumstances behind his divorce. No one knew that his ex-wife was Carl Toombs’ secret mistress. No one except him and Mandy and his mother.