She was shown to her quarters by one of the smiling porters and only when the door closed behind her did she realise how tired she really was.
She closed her eyes on a bedroom that was all ceiling fans and bamboo blinds and soft mosquito nets and rattan furniture, and a bathroom that she would have to devote some time to in the morning as she spied the sunken bath.
And awoke abruptly, it seemed like five minutes later, to the sound of tapping from behind the blinds she had hurriedly pulled down earlier.
When Rose looked at her watch, she saw to her horror that it was already eight-thirty. She had slept for nearly ten hours. And for the first time in weeks her internal alarm system had not woken her up at three in the morning for no better reason than to fill her head with thoughts she didn’t want.
The tapping on the door galvanised her into action. It was probably the cleaning service making her feel like a lazy slob instead of the working woman she was supposed to be. She wasn’t sure what room Nick was in, but she would have to get through to him immediately through the operator and assure him in her crispest voice that she would be ready to start work in fifteen minutes.
No need. Rose pulled up the exquisite bamboo blinds and there he was, standing outside what was, in fact, a glass door that she could now see led to a small wooden patio, along one side of which was a hammock, next to a couple of chairs and a small table, all perfect for relaxing outside and gazing at the scenery. In this case, lush lawns liberally interspersed with coconut trees, which led down to a beach. To the left, she could glimpse the pool, just a slash of bright blue surrounded by turquoise umbrellas and yet more coconut trees in between.
But she took all this in in literally a couple of seconds.
As she had discovered, nothing could compete for her attention when Nick was in the vicinity.
‘It’s you.’ Where was her crisp voice when she needed it? Suddenly conscious of the fact that she was still in just her nightie and the thin bathrobe she had flung on before leaping towards the door in a surge of guilt for having overslept, Rose folded her arms and tried to look composed.
‘Who did you think it was going to be?’
‘The cleaning service. I…I…was actually just about to phone through to you and let you know that I’ll be ready to start work shortly.’
‘No need to phone.’ Nick gave a slight inclination of his head. ‘I’m in the cabin next to yours. In fact, if you go around that flimsy wooden lattice partition, you’ll be at my glass door…’ He had seen her in many guises, from angry to embarrassed to primly correct, but he had never seen her like this, flushed from sleep, her skin satin-smooth, hair tousled.
Nick made no apologies to himself for wanting her. He had recognised that kick of desire and his sole objective now was to sate it. Had she been his full-time employee, he would have done his damnedest to shut the door firmly on all thoughts of seduction, but fortunately she wasn’t.
Rose tried not to look horrified at this piece of information. ‘I’m sure that won’t be necessary. If you want to give me fifteen minutes, Nick, I’ll join you in the foyer.’
‘No need to be so formal.’ He leaned against the frame of the sliding patio door. ‘I’ve ordered breakfast to be brought to my room for both of us. When you’re ready, just skip across. Continental all right for you? Oh, and I thought we might as well appreciate the surroundings today. Enjoy the beach, see what the poolside facilities are…we can start in earnest tomorrow when Lee’s back from KL.’
Several things he had just said converged to send her into a state of mild panic. Sharing breakfast. In his room. Enjoying the facilities.
Rose cleared her throat, wondering how she could pick her way through her objections and emerge on the other side without appearing to overreact, but he was already turning away, only glancing back to give her a nonchalant wave.
She had brought no clothes to cover breakfast with her sexy boss in his room. He had been wearing a pair of khaki Bermuda shorts and a collared tee shirt. In between the confusion of what he had been saying to her, she had managed to notice the elegant, casual ease with which he pulled off an outfit that most men would have looked frightful in.
Rose rummaged through her bags at the speed of light and tried to block out the image of his legs, bronzed and muscular, sprinkled with dark hair.
Was he hairy all over? she wondered feverishly.
Yet another thought to try and dispel as she flung on a baggy tee shirt, all the better to hide her figure, and a pair of trousers that would probably reduce her to a puddle of perspiration by the middle of the day but which would have to do. At least until she gained a little colour and her confidence grew.