Sleeping with the Playboy by Julianne MacLean Read Free Book Online

just tried to interrogate her about her personal life.
    She wasn’t used to questions like those. Clients never wanted to know about her situation. They always wanted to remain apart.
    She was still shaken. Her belly was fluttering with nervous butterflies.
    God, what was it about him that made her react like an adolescent schoolgirl when that’s not how she wanted to react? What was it that made her forget who she was—an untouchable, invisible Executive Protection Professional—and want to melt like hot cream into his capable hands?
    Obviously, he was well-practiced in the art of seduction. That’s probably what those questions were about. He looked for a woman’s weakness and leaped on it.
    He blinked slowly at her. “You should give in more often, you know.”
    A sudden image of giving in to him on his bed burned in her brain. “I beg your pardon?”
    Get a grip, Jocelyn. You’re reacting to his masculine appeal and reading too much into everything he’s saying. He isn’t making a sexual reference.
    â€œYour face…” He reached one hand up to touch the center of her forehead with his thumb. “All the tension right here. It’s gone. You look…softer.”
    His thumb feathered along her eyebrow while his warm palm cupped her cheek, and her knees, damn them, turned to pudding. Who would have thought a man touching her eyebrow would have such a debilitating effect on her?
    She didn’t know what to say. The line had been crossed, and she wasn’t used to being on this side of it—weak-kneed and foggy-brained with a client, after an inappropriate conversation about her character,a conversation that had left her contemplating the ramifications of her childhood.
    She wet her lips and struggled to keep her breathing steady, struggled to keep herself from wondering what it would feel like to kiss those beautiful full lips of his.
    â€œYou can relax,” he said, “I’m not going to fire you.”
    â€œI’m perfectly relaxed.”
    â€œYeah? I don’t think so.” He gave her an amused grin that told her he was arrogantly aware of his ability to reduce women to happy blobs of jelly whenever he felt the urge.
    Jocelyn tried to steel herself against his liquefying effect. “I’m not one of your girlfriends, you know.”
    â€œI never thought you were.”
    Why wasn’t he lowering his hand? He was tickling her ear now, and goose bumps were shimmying their way down her entire left side.
    â€œI mean,” she said in her best tough-girl voice, reaching up to gently remove his hand from under her hair—and it was one of the hardest things she ever did—“you’re my client and this isn’t exactly appropriate conduct.”
    That look of amusement never left his eyes. His mouth lifted in a wicked, sexy grin. “I knew that was coming. Maybe I should fire you after all.”
    â€œAnd risk opening that door to your stalker?” she said in a deep throaty voice.
    Something had taken over—the same flirtatious spark that had bucked when she’d made that remark in the elevator the night before, about going to get her jammies and toothbrush. Her voice had taken onthat teasing tone again. Now she was sounding seductive!
    Where was this coming from? This was nothing like her. She wasn’t acting professionally; she was playing hard to get.
    He glanced at the door with the key still in the lock, then back at her face. His gaze dropped to her lips.
    She could see he was impressed by her “apparent” immunity to his charms. And tempted. He wanted to kiss her. For a heart-stopping moment, she thought he might, and she was glad in a triumphant sort of way that she was turning him to jelly, too.
    She quickly reminded herself, however, not to get cocky, when she wasn’t entirely sure she would be able to resist him if he did try to kiss her.
    Thank God he backed off. He