The Billionaire Boss's Bride(26)

Curtis could almost hear her shudder with relief. He was pretty relieved himself. Since he had arrived at the house, he had been too aware of her for his own good. Too aware of her clean smell, the enchanting freshness of her looks, the enticing depths of her personality which fought him off and beckoned him at the same time, and just for a minute there, when she had firmly put him in his place, reminded him that he was nothing more than her boss and a highly inconvenient one at that, he had felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. Yes, he was her boss. A little technicality he didn’t intend to forget. Despite his predilection for sexy secretaries, he had never been tempted to sleep with any of them. Why he felt compelled to hire them in the first place was something he had never questioned, although he was inclined to agree with his mother that it was all to do with delegation of duties. He could get away with giving them the minimum to do, ensuring that company confidentiality was never threatened. It had always suited him. Tessa was already winning his trust, slowly but surely, when it came to work. Jeopardising that on an insane whim would be madness. Added to which he was not, by nature, attracted to women like her, women of discreet charms, however alluring those charms might seem on the odd occasion. Like right now.

He struggled to recover his usual easy charm and not let his attention stray from her flustered face to the gentle swell of her breasts and the slimness of her legs encased in their tight jeans.

‘Some wine, then. Food smells good, whatever you say…’ He disappeared towards the sitting room, to rescue the untouched wine she had poured earlier on and returned with the tray. ‘Gone a bit tepid, unfortunately…’

‘No problem. There’s some ice in the freezer.’

That unsettling moment had passed as ice was fetched and the table set and the food brought out, occupying most of the table top even though it was just one dish of pasta, one of salad and some dressing.

Or had it?

They sat opposite one another, but Tessa could feel her cheeks aching from having to force herself to smile. Just a few centimetres too far, and their knees would touch. A major disadvantage with a tiny kitchen table, she decided. To avert that possibility, she tilted her legs to one side, but every fibre in her being was aware of him, aware of the flex of his muscles as he dug into his food, aware of the way he twirled the spaghetti on his fork, aware of his dark eyes resting on her face during mouthfuls.

They talked about music, pleasant, unthreatening chit-chat that made her think about dancing with him. They talked a bit about work, about his ideas for the Far East, which made her wonder how he would look after a few weeks in the hot sun. Even darker and sexier than he did now. From that they moved easily into chatting about holidays abroad, and after she’d drunk two glasses of wine in record time she heard herself elaborating on her childhood, on how things had changed after her parents had died, on places she had seen and all the ones she wanted to but probably never would. At the back of her mind she knew that she would regret all the confidentiality in the morning, especially after her robust speech about keeping the lines between them clear.

But she didn’t want any pregnant pauses to creep into the conversation between them.

‘I hope it hasn’t been too much of a strain,’ Curtis said, when they had finished eating.

‘What hasn’t?’

‘My being here with you tonight, taking advantage of your hospitality and good nature…’

He knew that she would blush. He also knew that he should be listening to his head, which was telling him to leave as soon as possible, even if that meant waking his daughter up.

‘I…no, of course not…it’s been fine…’

‘Good.’ He stood up and waved her down when she was about to follow suit. ‘Don’t even think about it! You cooked and I’ll wash. Fair’s fair!’ He raked his long fingers through his hair and looked at her steadily. It required a superhuman feat of concentration. Her mouth looked so damned tempting, half parted like that…

‘Why don’t you go and check on my daughter?’ he said thickly, turning away. ‘I’m a quick washer. By the time you get back I’ll be done.’

Tessa stood up, thankful for something to do that required her to be out of the kitchen. ‘Just make sure you do a good job,’ she said lightly, addressing his broad back and wondering how she could possibly know that he was smiling. ‘I don’t accept shoddy work.’

She had expected a nightmare evening. It hadn’t been. It had been good, and she wasn’t sure whether that was worse…