Hired for the Boss's Bedroom by Cathy Williams Read Free Book Online Page B

what more of a turn on could there be than an uncertain outcome?
    Not for a minute did it occur to Leo that a deliberate seduction was anything less than perfectly reasonable. He took his time in the kitchen. Dishes were washed and precariously balanced on the draining board, because drying and putting them away seemed a senseless waste of time when they would be used again at some point in the future—and she had been right with the ‘dishwasher’ accusation. There was some sort of coffee-making machine with nozzles and a vaguely threatening glass jug, which he ignored. Instead, he made them both a cup of instant coffee and was gratified to find that she wasn’t dozing, as he’d suspected she might be, when he returned to the sitting room.
    ‘Instant,’ he said, handing her the cup and then sitting on one of the big, comfortable chairs by the fireplace. ‘There was a machine there, but…’
    ‘But you didn’t have a clue how to use it?’ She cupped the mug between her hands and watched him as he sat back, relaxed, in the chair.
    ‘I could have figured it out in time.’ He shot her a wicked grin that made her toes curl. ‘But life’s too short to waste any of it trying to come to grips with a complicated machine that just ends up making stuff you can get out of a jar.’
    ‘It tastes much better than the stuff you can get out of a jar.’ After their very civilised evening, Heather knew that she should really be getting rid of him. He had made a nice gesture; she had not been churlish and thrown it back at him, and now she could close the evening on a satisfactory note. But didn’t it make her feel alive, having him here? Looking at him? It was, in equal measure, exciting and disturbing.
    ‘That’s open to debate.’ But he laughed again. ‘Tell me about your work. Do you work freelance, or are you commissioned to a publisher?’
    Since this was nice, safe conversation, Heather felt herself relax as she began explaining to him what she did, telling him about some of the books she had illustrated, then finding that they were talking about art in general. Working freelance as she did, she had relatively little contact with members of the opposite sex, and for the past three years that had suited her. After Brian, she had retreated to lick her wounds, only meeting the occasional guy through some of the women she had befriended in the town, mums from the school where she gave art lessons to their kids once a week. She had accepted no dates, and indeed had made sure to give off all the right ‘hands off’ signals to anyone who had looked even mildly interested.
    It made a change to have male company. That, she told herself, was why she was now talking to Leo. She had allowed him in to prove to herself that she was capable of rising above her past. Also, it made sense for them to be, if not friends, then at least on speaking terms, because she would bump into him now and again, and the less awkwardness between them the better.
    She resolutely slammed the door on the little voice telling her that she was enjoying that weird, tingly, excited flutter inside her; that she was turned on by his charisma, mesmerised by the raw power of his sex appeal.
    Heather was not in the market for being turned on or mesmerised by anyone. In due course, she would emerge from the protective walls she had built around herself and would get back into the dating scene. If she wasn’t too old by then. And, when she did, she would be very careful about the type of men she went out with. In fact, she might get them to fill out a questionnaire before the first date—nothing too complicated, just a few sheets of questions so that she could make sure that only the right kind of guy got through the net.
    Since Leo was the complete opposite of the right kind of guy, she felt herself fully protected. Yes, she could appreciate all that alpha-male sex appeal; yes, she could admit that he was ferociously intelligent. But there was no way that