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Authors: Kat Black

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BOOK: Melting Ms Frost
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‘What is that you’re saying?’ she demanded suspiciously. ‘You’ve used it before.’


A mhuirnín
? It’s a Gaelic term.’

‘Do I even want to know what it means?’ she muttered. ‘Something unsuitable, I’m sure.’

He regarded her. ‘I get the impression you have a habit of thinking the worst of everyone and everything. Why is that?’

She gave a put-upon sigh. ‘Because that way I’m seldom surprised or disappointed.’

He leaned towards her slightly. ‘It means “sweetheart”,’ he said softly and could tell by her reaction that this was one of those seldom occasions. He’d managed to surprise Ms Frost.

It didn’t take her more than a moment to recover. ‘I’m not your sweetheart.’

‘But are you anyone’s?’ He gave her an enquiring look. ‘Who gets to whisper terms of endearment into your ear at the end of the day, Annabel? That’s what I’d like to know.’

Annabel stared at her barman, wondering how he’d managed to wrest control of the exchange. Again. She needed to assert her authority and set some boundaries. Fast.

‘Listen to me,
Mr Flynn
. I don’t know what sort of working environment you’re used to, but here your behaviour is inappropriate.’

‘I’m afraid I can’t agree with you,
Ms Frost
. I’ve done nothing inappropriate.’ He smiled in a way that added a silent ‘yet’ to the end of his statement and pinned her with a piercing look. A look of such open hunger it was impossible to misread the passionate intent in the shimmering depths.

It was also impossible to ignore her body’s immediate response – a pulse of heat low down in her pelvis, a reaction that, given the situation, was as unexpected as it was misplaced. Shaken, she stumbled back a step, instantly annoyed at herself for giving ground, for letting a few unruly hormones get the better of her. Since when had overly familiar insolence become sexy?

Drawing on her indignation, she straightened to her full height and came right back in his face. ‘If that’s what you think then keep it up,’ she challenged him through her teeth, savouring the rush of satisfaction it gave her to know she held the power to pull rank on him. ‘And I’ll have no option but to instigate disciplinary procedures.’

She watched his straight brows rise to form elegant arches. That infuriating smile grew wider to showcase a set of strong, white teeth. ‘You’ll punish me?’ he asked without the faintest hint of concern just as something caught his attention. Gaze flicking to the side, he backed off to spear a couple of straws into a pair of mojitos sweating on a nearby tray and pushed the lot towards a drive-by waiter. They were barely alone again when he returned his attention to her, the smile gone, that keen scrutiny intent on her as he said, ‘Tell me. Is that the sort of thing that would turn you on, Annabel?’

With that, the ability to breathe momentarily deserted her. She felt her mouth moving, but stolen by shock, there were simply no words to come out. The man was outrageous … and the flip-flopping sensation deep in her belly was nothing but pure astonishment, surely?

‘No.’ Tilting his head to the side, Aidan answered his own question before Annabel had the chance to find her missing voice. ‘Despite the dominatrix image you like to portray, I don’t think that’s really your style.’ His focus became laser sharp as he studied her. ‘Now, maybe if we were to reverse the roles …?’

Again, that unmistakably suggestive tone, that carnal gleam that prompted a set of images in her mind, disturbing snapshots of this stranger bending her to his will with piercing eyes, strict words, firm hands – visions that should have left her feeling offended and angry but which swamped her with something that felt more like warm, tingling pulses of excitement instead.

Confusion over her own reaction left Annabel unable to work out her next best move. She turned to face the shelves rather than let her adversary see her uncertainty, or worse, any trace of that warped sense of excitement.

‘That’s way out of line,’ she said, pretending to straighten a row of already perfectly aligned highball tumblers to buy herself time to gather her flustered wits.

But in the next instant he was there behind her, giving her no time at all. ‘You started it,’ he said softly. Keeping her attention trained on the glasses, she felt him crowd close without touching, his proximity making her skin prickle with awareness, the heat of his body radiating against her spine.

‘Ms Frost, is that a blush I see staining those cheeks?’ he murmured in her ear, his tone rich with satisfaction, his breath whispering over the side of her neck, stirring the tiniest of hairs. ‘Lovely. I bet you blush when you come, too – bet that pure white skin flushes rosy all the way down to your chest. Am I right?’

She couldn’t help it. Her stunned gaze flew up to meet his in the mirror. The reflection showed him looming behind her, taller by half a head, the width of his shoulders blocking her view of the busy room beyond.

‘I’ve been trying to picture it, you know, how you’ll look when I drive you to that moment of surrender.’

Speechless, she shook her head in rejection of his words even as she was engulfed by the arousing, visceral effect they wrought on her body.

She was appalled – by his actions, by her own reaction, by this situation that had got way out of hand, way too fast. A part of her was aware that she should move away, reclaim her personal space, put a stop to this blatant sexual harassment. But the sheer intensity of him seemed to scramble her brain. For the first time in a long while she felt at a total loss for what to do.

At least she had the sense to grab onto the counter top as, gazes still locked, she watched the man behind her lean even closer to trickle the words, ‘I’m going to find out, Annabel,’ into her ear without a trace of doubt in his soft tone, just absolute conviction. ‘Soon.’

Scandalised, electrified, Annabel felt the hairs on her arms rise. But it was the glimpse of something so resolute, so
steely
in the depths of that grey gaze that triggered an injection of adrenaline into her racing bloodstream.

She closed her own eyes, feeling herself sway. She couldn’t look at him any more, couldn’t listen. She needed a moment to breathe, to remind herself that she was in charge. She needed to think, to wrench back control and slap a verbal warning in this guy’s face. Hard. But how could she hope to force the words out through a throat squeezed too tight even to draw a wisp of air?

‘Um, excuse me? Ms Frost, Aidan?’ A tentative female query intruded from behind, making Annabel’s eyelids pop back open and bringing the reality of the crowded, noisy room crashing back into her clouded consciousness.

Keeping a one-handed grip on the counter top, she spun as her captor stepped back to reveal Donna standing on the other side of the bar.

‘Sorry, I, ah – need another bottle of Rioja for table nine,’ the diminutive waitress said, her gaze jumping between them and a little crease denting her brow. ‘And three sparkling waters.’

‘Coming right up.’ Aidan’s voice was pitched once more in cordial Irish tones, as though nothing dark or dirty had recently passed his lips. The friendly smile he gave the waitress stayed on his face as he turned back to Annabel.

Annabel held herself rigid as he came in close and reached around her to retrieve the glasses from the shelf behind. ‘Why don’t you wear your hair down for me tomorrow?’ he murmured in her ear before moving away to fill the order.

Aware of Donna’s inquisitive look still on her, but too stunned to trust herself to speak, Annabel snatched at the flapping ends of her control and pulled them tight as she turned and stalked back to the reception desk, relief at her escape warring with anger. Walking away, when the very act of doing so made her feel like she was the loser in the exchange, left her far from happy despite being the only sensible course of action to take. Even in her floundering, stuttering state she’d been aware that things had not been going her way, nor were they likely to improve while her usually quick-firing synapses were shorted out by shock.

Feeling the sting to her pride, she was adamant this was only a temporary retreat, not an outright defeat. Now that she knew what she was dealing with, all she needed was a bit of time to arm herself appropriately before she went back in on the attack and showed the foul-mouthed Irishman who was boss.

It was hardly her fault that every time she told herself she was ready, she’d suddenly start noticing a million and one other things that demanded her urgent attention, denying her the opportunity to do just that.

Of course the delightful Ms Frost didn’t disappoint him, turning up for her next shift with her hair pulled into the tightest bun Aidan had ever seen, and which left her barely able to blink. Even the fuck-off-and-die scowl she sent him in return for his amused grin of acknowledgement was hampered, but not enough for him to mistake it for anything other than what it was.

After she’d made a point of avoiding him following Donna’s interruption last night, he hadn’t known quite what to expect of today. But certainly fronting up for work to find he wasn’t neck-deep in shit had been a promising start. As sure as he’d been about his instincts regarding his uptight manager, he’d taken a hell of a risk plunging into the deep end to test the icy waters the way he had. Having decided that hard and fast was the only way likely to break through Annabel Frost’s frozen surface was one thing, but making those types of moves on any woman – let alone one who held the power to sack him from his job – could prove dangerous. The fact that he hadn’t been read his employment rights on the spot or later found skewered on a stiletto heel in a dark alley was all shades of interesting. Especially given the murderous looks he’d been treated to.

Making it obvious that, despite his continued healthy existence, Annabel considered him
persona non grata
, she was careful to avoid him, sticking to the dining area and doing her best to work the edge off a seriously black mood by harrying the wait staff. Given the amount of time she spent sliding livid little glances his way and chewing at that ruby-red bottom lip while she no doubt perfected her plans for bloody revenge, Aidan knew that keeping her distance wouldn’t do her the slightest bit of good. He had her right where he wanted her – so wound up she’d have no choice but to address the situation between them at some point.

That point didn’t come until the busy dinner crowd had thinned down to the last two tables of espresso and brandy stragglers. All but done setting his work area to rights, he glanced up to see a tightly wrought bundle of female indignation striding towards the bar with an all-business jut to her chin and her shoulders thrown back. Her jacket had been shed earlier in the evening, letting him appreciate her fine posture so beautifully accentuated by her close-fitting white shirt.

Watching as she approached, he felt a warm wash of anticipation spread through his gut. Last night the element of surprise had awarded him the upper hand, but now that she’d had time to recover and regroup, he couldn’t wait to see how his faux-dominatrix planned to play this out.

‘Aidan,’ she began, sticking her nose up at him as she had previously but this time tellingly keeping the solid barrier of cherry wood between their bodies.

He hid his pleasure at hearing her say his name for the first time and pondered how thrilling it would be to have her naked and within reach the next time she dared to use that uppity tone, leaving him no option but to correct her for it.

Fuck
. He nearly staggered with the speed his body responded to the thought of how
that
scene would go down.

Too much, too fast, Flynn
, he cautioned himself.
Rein it in or you’ll lose the game before it’s even started.
Placing the last dirty glass in the washer he straightened to look at her, feeling a delicious telltale tug in his groin as he did so.

‘Annabel?’ he replied, noting the slight flinch she tried to contain at the familiar form of address. A reckless part of him hoped she’d dare to demand that he call her ‘Ms Frost’ so he had an excuse to get his hands on her before the night was through. Game strategy be damned. Those barbed looks of hers had been pricking his nerves all service, leaving him unusually impatient to exercise his more dominant side.

Something of his thoughts must have shown, because she swallowed and refrained from calling him on it. Pity.

‘I’m sure that on reflection you’ll agree your behaviour towards me last night was unprofessional and unacceptable,’ she said instead, lifting an expectant eyebrow and plainly looking for his agreement. Like the rest of her, her brows were immaculately groomed, leaving him wanting to trace the winged arches with the pads of his thumbs as he held her head cradled between his hands. While he was about it, he’d skim across the top of her cheekbones, as well, learning the delicate lines of her bones just before he speared his fingers deeper into her bound hair and forced her face up to accept his kiss …

As his gaze dropped to her mouth, he noted that his distracted silence had caused those red lips to tighten into a thin, hard line. They loosened only so that she could launch into him.

‘On that basis, and under current employment laws, consider this your first formal warning. In case you’re not familiar with the standard terms of our contract, I can tell you that any continuation of harassment will result in a maximum of two further warnings, which, if ignored, will end in eventual dismissal.’ Every inch of her expression showed the fierce satisfaction that prospect obviously gave her.

Prepared speech over, Annabel Frost faced him down, presenting an outward demeanour that could freeze the balls off a brass monkey – green eyes so cold they fairly glinted with little chips of ice, features tight with disapproval, shoulders set with determination. Oh, she was that good. If he hadn’t been standing directly opposite her and didn’t know what to look for, he’d have missed the rapid flicker of the pulse point at the base of her throat telling him she wasn’t quite as composed as she looked. Inwardly, she was either mad as hell that she couldn’t boot him right out the door, scared to her marrow that he’d found a chink in her armour, or reluctantly aroused by the things he’d said. Aidan was willing to put his money on a dizzying mix of all three.

BOOK: Melting Ms Frost
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