One-Click Buy: November Harlequin Presents (52 page)

She gritted her teeth together as seagulls circled and cawed overhead, and the endless waves rolled in and slipped back out. This was no longer just a case of coming clean and cutting her losses and worrying about whether Morgan had a job to come back to. There would be serious fallout now. There would be consequences.

And maybe all she could do was try to minimise them. Which meant she had to keep up the pretence, to hold on to this job until Morgan returned. And to try to hold on to her sanity in the process.

She sighed. ‘It looks like it.'

He said nothing for a while, and she thought she'd made a mistake, that there had never been a point to his questions and that he'd just been making conversation to cover the yawning vacuum between them.

Until he stepped between her, and the view and her vision was filled by a man whose dark looks were so heavy with savage intent that one look put her brain on high alert and left her senses smouldering. ‘In that case,' he said, ‘I have a proposition for you.'

She looked up at him, already drowning in his eyes, already feeling the pull of his body on hers, already anticipating the slide of skin against skin—while her brain screamed warnings, warnings that made a whole lot of sense right now.

She shook her head, and made a move to step out of range of his intense eyes and back along the beach. ‘Oh, no, I don't think so.'

He grabbed her wrist, and she jerked with the shock, spilling her shoes to the sand.

‘You haven't even heard what it is yet.'

She looked up at him, and at all that his tortured features proclaimed. She didn't need to hear it. She could read it in his anguished expression. ‘I won't sleep with you.'

He drew himself up, his eyes narrowing, and she knew she'd guessed right. But still he didn't let go of her wrist. Instead he tugged her ever so gently towards him. ‘But you already have.'

‘It was a mistake. It should never have happened.'

‘I wish all my mistakes were so satisfying. And you were satisfying—in
every
way.'

She wrenched her eyes away, turning them up to the sky, a silent entreaty.
Oh God, no, don't tell me that.
‘Look, Maverick, I just think we should forget about it.'

‘That's my problem,' he argued, letting his shoes drop to the sand and sliding his hand down her elbow to capture her free hand in his. ‘I can't forget about it. I can't forget how you felt next to me, how good you tasted in my mouth and how good it felt to bury myself deep inside you.'

His words, erotically charged, shockingly intimate, brought the memories of that night bubbling up in both her mind and her body in a heated rush, rendering her speechless as muscle after hidden muscle relived the feel of accepting him.

‘And the way I can feel your pulse racing right now,' he continued, ‘I don't think you can forget it either.'

‘I'm being harassed on a public beach,' she protested in barely a breathless whisper that she knew sounded like no protest at all. ‘Of course my pulse is racing!'

‘And I suppose your nipples always peak like that too, when you're being harassed?'

Only when I'm being harassed by you.

She swallowed back the retort that would have told him far too much. Shame at her body's unavoidable reaction to him burned her cheeks. There was no point denying the truth.

‘You want me,' he continued, leisurely running his hands up her arms in a heated caress. ‘And, God knows, I want you. Why should we deny ourselves what we know we both want?'

‘Because it's not that simple.'

‘Why isn't it that simple? You as good as said there was nobody else.'

‘It's not that,' she said truthfully, because she knew it was infinitely worse than that—she simply
was
someone else. But what reason might Maverick understand?

‘I work for you,' she argued. ‘And I don't think that bonking the boss is necessarily a wise career strategy.'

He put a finger under her chin and tilted her face up towards his. ‘Is that what you're worried about—that you might lose your job when it's over?'

‘When what's over? Nothing's even begun!'

‘Oh, yes,' he said. ‘It's begun. And it's not going to go away all by itself. Why are you making this so difficult?'

‘I'm trying to be sensible.'

‘No, you're just being provocative. The more you run, the more I have to chase.'

‘So, how do I get you to stop chasing?'

‘Simple. By letting this thing between us run its course.'

‘Oh, right. I become your mistress for however long, and then what happens? I somehow go back to being PA pure and simple, and you go back to being the boss from hell, and we both pretend it never happened?'

‘Just like it never happened,' he repeated, ignoring her jibe. ‘But if I don't get you out of my system I swear I'm going to go mad, and it's going to be hell trying to work together.'

She believed it. It had been bad enough for a week before they'd made love. Now, knowing what they'd experienced together, and exactly what they'd be missing out on, it would be intolerable. Which was exactly the reason she'd decided to come clean this morning and put an end to the torture.

But leaving wasn't an option any more.

Did he really believe things could go back to anywhere near normal after having an affair together, after sharing more of the kind of intimacies they'd already enjoyed?

But if he did…

If it were possible…

Maybe there was a chance.

She breathed in, and the smell of beach and sand and sea, and the unmistakable tang of desire, filled her lungs while sultry thoughts invaded her mind.

‘So how long…?' she started nervously. ‘How long do you think it might take to
get me out of your system
?'

He gave a careless shrug that belied the glimmer of imminent victory she saw flare to life in his eyes. ‘Two weeks, maybe three.'

‘Wow,' she said, trying to be light, but knowing it was going to take one heck of a lot longer for her to forget him in a hurry. ‘That long.'

‘Hey,' he growled, putting his hands on her shoulders. ‘You asked. And I'm trying to be honest up front. I don't do long term.'

‘So you're saying the sooner we get started, the sooner we get each other out of our systems, the sooner we can get back to how things used to be?'

‘That's about the size of it.'

The waves rolled in. Joggers splashed through the shallows and moved on. The sun continued to shine down. Everything was the same and yet everything was different, and her crazy day had just defied all odds and got even crazier.

Nothing could dissuade her from the thought that the idea had some merit. Morgan was gone for maybe six weeks. And until she came back Tegan could undertake the duties on Phil Rogerson's team as she'd agreed. She could continue to perform her sister's role as Maverick's PA by day and occupy his sheets by night. And, by the time Morgan came back, this brief affair would have burned out and the fires long grown cold.

She could be the good sister, the good employee, and she could safely satisfy his needs and her own desires at the same time.

It was the answer to everything.

It was perfect.

‘In that case,' she said, turning her face up towards him, the unmitigated thrill of anticipation setting her flesh to tingling, ‘maybe the sooner we get started, the better.'

Had he been a lion, he would have roared his victory from on high for all the world to hear. As it was, the blood rushing in his ears served the same purpose—a crashing roar that heralded a victory, a triumphant roar of possession.

She came into his arms more than willingly, and as his mouth descended upon hers he knew she was his for as long as he wanted her. It was everything that he wanted.

It was everything he had craved.

And Morgan was no conniving bitch. He knew she was no more like Tina than summer was like snow. This time it would be different. This time he was making no mistakes.

He drank her in, right there on the beach, inhaling her perfume, supping on her essence. She'd run from him before, but she was no longer running. She was his for the taking. And he intended to take all he could while he could.

He broke the kiss, his chest heaving, his breathing out of control, knowing only too well that a public beach was no forum for the type of culmination to this activity that he had in mind.

He looked down into her flushed face, her glazed eyes and kiss-plumped lips. ‘What's in the diary for the rest of the day?'

Warm hazel eyes shone back up at him, their intention clear. ‘Nothing I can't reschedule.'

It was the right answer. He smiled his approval and gathered her in the crook of his arm before heading back along the beach towards the car. Business could wait. Today he had much higher priorities.

I
T WAS
a world she'd never dreamed existed, like living in a fantasy. Days and nights blurred into one long, sensual experience, with meals becoming orgies of the senses, with work becoming a journey of discovery into new and interesting ways to use office furniture.

Tegan loved the way he made her feel, loved the way he could so easily arouse her, loved nothing more than when he drove himself home inside her and brought her to completion.

And then at night he'd insist she dress up in clothes he'd had delivered especially from the best boutiques, and he'd wine and dine her in the best restaurants on the strip, then afterwards he'd take her to his island house with the glass walls and he'd make love to her all over again.

Never had the idea of going to the office been more appealing. And never had dressing for the office been more fun. Because now she wasn't interested in repelling him, so she'd abandoned Morgan's severe suits and pencil skirts. Now she dressed in soft fabrics that showed off her figure and teased Maverick to distraction. Now she dressed for easy access. And easy removal.

It was two o'clock in the afternoon, and Tegan leant back amongst the bubbles of the deep spa-bath and closed her eyes, letting the jets work their magic on muscles and flesh wearied by another matinee lovemaking session while she waited for Maverick to join her.

He was such a wonderful lover, she could almost forgive him his relentless pursuit of success. Almost. It was a shame they were such different people, because one day she'd love nothing more than to find a good man who could make her feel this wonderful permanently, not just for the length of a fling.

‘You look good enough to eat.'

She opened her eyes to see him standing there watching her, his eyes at her breasts, where they bobbed through the water's surface, their pink tips fringed with foam. Her nipples peaked as he watched her, his body similarly stirring into action.

So he was a heartless businessman, she thought; a girl could do a lot worse than having a fling with a man called Maverick. She smiled up at him and held out one hand. ‘So eat me,' she said.

It was a day or two later that he gave her the first gift. A blue box appeared on her pillow. ‘What's this?' she asked.

‘Just a little trinket,' he answered.

‘You don't have to buy me things.'

‘I know. Open it.'

‘No,' she said, holding it out to him. ‘I mean it. You've already showered me with clothes. I don't want you buying me more. There's no point to it.'

‘You don't like jewellery?'

‘I don't need it. And it just seems such a waste, when there are people in the world who can't afford to eat and you just splash money around as if it doesn't matter.'

‘It doesn't matter. Not to me.'

‘But there are people who have absolutely nothing but a few cooking pots and the hope that one day they'll have something to put in them. Couldn't you do something more constructive with your money than buy worthless presents for me?'

‘When did you suddenly develop a social conscience?' he argued impatiently, ripping open the box and pulling out the contents, a gold Tiffany necklace that took her breath away. ‘I bought you this because I wanted to. Indulge me.'

‘But, Maverick—' she said, still protesting even as he did up the clasp behind her neck.

‘
And
because I want you to wear it when we make love…' He pushed her back into the pillows, insinuating himself between her thighs and positioning the pendant with his fingers to exactly the right place between her breasts. ‘So that every time you wear it you think of me, doing this…'

She gasped as he entered her, filling her completely as his dark eyes held hers captive, withdrawing only to slam into her again, building the momentum, driving into her relentlessly, never letting her eyes escape until he'd blown her into starburst.

Two weeks he'd said it would last. Maybe three. But already it had been all of that and his passion showed no sign of abating. They worked together during the day. They slept together at night. But they only achieved either one of them when they weren't making love.

And her greatest fear had taken on a new and frightening dimension. Now it wasn't a question of how soon this thing between them would burn out, but whether it would burn out in time.

Tegan lay propped up on her elbows on Maverick's big bed, watching the steady rise and fall of the chest of the man lying beside her. Morning light filtered through the curtains, turning his bare skin into a study of light and shadow and sheer masculine beauty. She studied his face—the shadowed jaw, the generous mouth, the dark tangle of lashes and brows—and a sizzle of realisation moved through her like a lightning bolt that sucked the air from her chest along with it.

No, whether this thing burned out before Morgan's return wasn't her greatest problem at all.

Her problem was far more complicated than that.

Her problem now was that she didn't want it to end.

God, she was a fool! She'd known she'd be playing with fire when she'd agreed to this deal. She might have tried to convince herself that she was doing Morgan some kind of favour by becoming her boss's mistress, but Tegan's motives had been purely selfish. She simply hadn't been able to resist.

With a sigh she let her head drop back down into the crook of his arm, drinking in the musky scent of male he wore so well while she still could.

Later today he was leaving with Phil Rogerson for Milan to tie up the contract with Zeppabanca once and for all, and even the thought of being parted from him for just a few days was hard enough to bear. How much worse would the sick feeling in her stomach be when he left her for good?

And leave her he would, regardless of what she wanted. He'd as much as promised it. Already she was on borrowed time, and Maverick would drop her cold when it suited him. She was just going to have to deal with the fallout when it happened.

The man beside her stirred. An arm snaked over her and hauled her against his chest with a growl, as warm lips nuzzled against her forehead and a warmer palm found her breast.

‘Maybe you should come to Milan with me after all.' His fingers teased her sensitive nipple into hardness, while the other hand cupped one cheek of her behind, dragging her closer to his growing hardness.

She laughed thinly, half wishing it could be so, knowing full well it couldn't be, and only thankful he hadn't insisted on her accompanying him from the start. ‘You don't need me to sign a few documents. I'll be here when you get back.'

‘Then make sure you are.' He pressed his mouth to hers, and for a few seconds she was half convinced she could travel on her own passport in her sister's name, make it work and to hell with the consequences.

‘What time's my flight again?'

‘Eleven-fifteen.'

‘Then we have time,' he said, before rolling her beneath him once again.

Tegan had just returned to the office from her lunch break when the call came.

‘I'm sorry to call you at the office, Tiggy. Is it okay to talk? I left messages at home for you and I was starting to get worried.'

‘I'm sorry,' Tegan said, shoving her lunchtime acquisition away in her bag with a sickening stab of panic, not to mention guilt. She'd spent most of her nights lately at Maverick's house with not a thought to how her sister was getting on, and if she'd been trying to contact her. ‘I've been…kind of busy. But it's okay to talk now. How's the leg?'

‘You won't believe it! The doctors are hoping they'll be able to send me home by Christmas. I can't wait to get out of here, and so soon, I can tell you.'

Christmas.
Three weeks away. She'd always known that this affair wouldn't last, and indeed couldn't last beyond Morgan's return, but having an end date made it so much more real. One way or another the affair would have to end by then. ‘Wow, that is soon.'

‘Yeah, I knew you'd be relieved. You must be so sick of Maverick by now.'

‘It's not that bad. He's in Italy at the moment. Gone to seal that deal at last.'

‘That must be a relief. You won't have to put up with him for too much longer, then.'

Did her sister have to remind her?

‘And Maverick still has no idea you're not me?'

‘I think I've managed to take his mind off any subtle differences between us—yeah.'

She could almost hear her sister's smile of appreciation down the phone line.

‘Thanks so much, Tiggy. You're a fantastic sister for doing what you're doing. You're a star.'

Tegan wanted to argue about the ‘fantastic sister' angle. She was sure Morgan wouldn't be saying it if she knew how well she was getting on with the boss. But instead she merely gave a noncommittal answer as guilt wrapped around her anew.

Morgan didn't deserve to come home to a mess like this—a mess that Tegan prayed wasn't about to get any more complicated. But she was probably worrying unnecessarily. She was only two days late after all, and her periods had been all over the place since that virus had hit her. Besides, they'd always used protection. The chances were next to nil. She wasn't going to panic about it yet, and she most certainly wasn't going to worry Morgan into the deal.

Because as much as she longed to be able to share what she was going through, her doubts and her fears, it would hardly be fair. Morgan was so far away, and still recovering from a road accident.

So she turned the conversation to hospitals and Hawaii and anything else that might steer the conversation away from Maverick, and the methods her twin sister was really employing to distract him.

The Zeppabanca deal was done, the papers signed, and the first-class service on the flight back was as usual unobtrusively impeccable. Maverick pressed back in the wide seat and stretched out his legs. All was right with the world.

And in a few short hours he'd be home and things were going to get even better. Five days away had honed his need to razor sharp.

Alongside him Phil Rogerson sighed as he folded his newspaper and dropped it onto his table beside his Scotch and water. ‘It's been a good trip, but I'm looking forward to getting home.'

Maverick nodded.
Oh, yes!
He had a pair of hazel eyes to meet him at the airport, not to mention a pair of sensationally long legs he was eager to feel wrapping around him not long after. Legs hopefully wearing those lace-topped stockings.

Rogerson took a slug of his Scotch. ‘Only the jetlag to deal with now, of course.'

The other man grunted. He was planning on burying his jetlag while he was busy burying himself in Morgan. When he collapsed into sleep tonight, it wouldn't be because he'd changed time zones, that was a certainty.

‘Oh, I meant to say,' Phil continued. ‘I've got a car picking me up at the airport, so if you need a lift…'

‘Thanks,' he acknowledged. ‘But I've made arrangements.'

‘Morgan picking you up?'

Maverick regarded him levelly. ‘As it happens, yes.'

Rogerson nodded. ‘I have a lot of respect for that young woman. And admiration. You're a lucky man.'

Wanting to set Rogerson to rights battled with an insane stab of jealousy. ‘She's my PA,' he said flatly. ‘That's all.'

The other man contemplated Maverick, one bushy eyebrow arched up high. ‘Ah, I obviously had the wrong end of the stick.'

‘Employees and long-term relationships are not a good-news story as far as I'm concerned.'

‘Really? It's never been something that bothered me. Mind you, maybe that's because I married the office junior myself. And, even though I was the boss, it still took me a good six months to work up the courage to ask her out. We'll be married forty-five years next February.' The older man sighed. ‘Doris turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me.'

Maverick shook his head. ‘Too risky for me.'

‘You know, I think that's one of the first things that convinced me that Morgan is special. She doesn't hang back, she doesn't advocate being safe. When I was prevaricating over whether or not to go ahead with the deal, it was her words that convinced me. She told me that there are times when it's worth going out on a limb, it's worth taking a risk. She was right in my case too.' He handed his glass to a passing flight attendant as the ‘fasten seat belt' sign came on in preparation for landing. ‘My word, she's a gutsy girl all right.'

Maverick wasn't sure he disagreed. What baffled him was why it had taken him so long to notice.

Tegan stood in the crowded arrivals lounge, her nerves stretched tighter than fencing wire, her stomach home to a swarm of dragon flies—drunken dragonflies, that crashed into the walls of her gut and slid down only to relaunch themselves into intoxicated flight once more, the odd one catching her squarely in the lungs.