Temporary Boss, Permanent Mistress

Dinner was fine: good food and good conversation, with Nils and Elisabet suggesting places in Oslo that Lydia really ought to see before she returned to England. The opera house, a night-time walk along the Akerselva river, the sculptures in Vigeland park and the Viking ships in the museum.

Lydia seemed to blossom in their company, opening up about her favourite places to sketch in London. And Jake realised just how pretty she was: her dark eyes sparkled, her face was animated, and the candlelight brought out the copper and gold lights in her hair.

He had to force himself to stop staring at her mouth.

And every so often he caught her eye and saw the colour bloom on her cheeks.

She worked for him, he reminded himself. And he wasn’t in a position to offer her anything more than a fling. He needed to get himself back under control.

And yet…he’d noticed that she was looking at him, too.

So he wasn’t alone in this crazy attraction. Maybe she was wondering the same thing as he was. What it would be like to touch her skin; how it would feel to kiss her.

At the end of the evening, he thanked Nils and Elisabet for their hospitality, but when he climbed into the taxi beside Lydia he fell silent.

It would be so easy to ask her…

But that would be taking unfair advantage of the situation. Plus, if he’d misread the signs, it would be way too awkward at work tomorrow. This deal was too important to jeopardise.

And for the life of him he couldn’t think of a neutral topic of conversation. All he could think of was how much he wanted to cradle that beautiful heart-shaped face in his hands and touch his mouth to hers, coax her into responding. A sweet, slow kiss that would deepen and deepen and end up with his body driving into hers.

He could hardly say that, could he?

‘Did I do something wrong?’ Lydia asked eventually.

‘Wrong?’ He didn’t follow.

‘You’re a bit, um, quiet.’ She dragged in a breath. ‘Look, if I made a faux pas tonight, I’d appreciate knowing what it was, so I don’t repeat it.’

‘No, you’re fine—it’s not you.’ It was definitely him. Not that he intended to tell her what was in his head. ‘I guess I’m a bit tired.’ He lifted one shoulder. ‘Every time my mother sees me, she nags me about working too hard.’

‘Maybe she has a point,’ Lydia said.

‘I’m fine.’ To his relief, the taxi arrived at the hotel. He paid the fare, then walked in to the hotel foyer with her. ‘I was planning to go for a swim tomorrow morning before breakfast in my room. We’re due in the office at eight, so I’ll call for you at quarter to.’

He didn’t quite catch her expression before she masked it, and after he’d seen her safely to her room and opened his own door, he was still thinking about it. Had it been relief that he didn’t expect her to spend every waking minute of the day with him?

Or had it been disappointment?

‘Get a grip,’ he told himself crossly, and headed for a cold shower. Hopefully the temperature would knock some sense back into his head.

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