Ruled By The Boss

What could she say? She forced a smile. “Of course, but there’s no reason for you to apologize.”

“Thank you, Roxie. You’re one class act.”

Yeah? Well, what was she supposed to do about this unpleasant feeling mucking around inside her?

“There’s one other thing.”

“Yes?”

“Maybe you should skip the tour for the next couple of days. Stay in Stratford, do some local sightseeing. Get a massage on the house. Hang out at the pool.”

“You’re kicking me off the tour?” Something inside her shriveled.

“No, no, it’s just that if we gave this thing a couple of days to cool down, maybe it wouldn’t be so difficult for either of us to resist temptation.”

“Okay, sure, fine,” she rushed to assure him. She didn’t want Dougal Lockhart thinking she cared.

He stood up and held out his hand, the same hand that had done very intimate things to her just hours before. “Friends?”

She took his hand, shook it and lied. “Friends.”

LEAVING HER COTTAGE feeling worse than when he’d arrived, Dougal went to his own living quarters. His plan had backfired. He’d gone to coax a confession out of Roxie, and instead he’d felt such overwhelming chemistry it had been all he could do to get out of there without ripping her clothes off and doing her on the rug, carpet burns be damned.

He’d sat and looked at her and realized there was no way she could have decapitated those sprinkler heads or tampered with the spotlights or messed with the autopilot on the airplane. At least that’s what his gut was telling him.

But his mind—his cautious, distrustful mind—was telling him he could not completely ignore the fact that Roxie had been in the gardens around the time the sprinklers had been vandalized. Plus, who was she really? She could have the technological know-how to sabotage the autopilot. Or she could be working with a skilled accomplice. It was flimsy evidence at best, and the only concrete thing he had to link her to any of the problems at the resort. By focusing on her, he was closing himself off to other possible suspects.

His head wasn’t in the game. His brain was lust-glazed, his body consumed. He’d had to break the spell she’d woven over him and telling her that they could not take their relationship any further was a step in that direction. And he’d lied about being friends. There was no way he could just be friends with her.

It had been a painful moment, but he’d made the right call. Besides, if she stayed behind at the resort for the next few days and something else happened, his doubts about her innocence would be solidified. Conversely, if nothing happened, it would go a long way in proving that his gut was right, that she wasn’t involved in any kind of subterfuge.

Unless, whispered the doubting voice at the back of his head, she’s smart enough not to make a move when most of the other guests are away from the resort.

Roxie’s not like that, argued his stubborn gut. She was honest and genuine and open-minded. She didn’t seem furtive at all.

Except Dougal no longer knew if this was his gut that was talking. It could easily be his penis.

Or even worse…his heart.

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