Cassie's Grand Plan. Emmie Dark

Ronan itched to unfasten the clip and run his fingers through her hair. He clasped his hands firmly in his lap.

       Cassie pulled up in front of a colonial-style building that turned out to be their hotel. They climbed out and were efficiently checked in by a cheerful young man who filled Ronan’s hand with tourist brochures when he heard the American accent.

       Cassie grabbed her bag and gave him a smile. She was satisfied with how the day had gone, he could tell, and it had lessened the nerves she seemed to have when she was around him. He couldn’t blame her.

       “Well, thanks for today.” She jangled the key in her hand. “You know, I really appreciate the way you’ve been talking to the staff we’ve met. You’ve been friendly and engaging, but still discreet. I…I appreciate it.”

       Ronan shrugged. “Of course.” He hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary, but he was pleased with the compliment.

       “We have to leave here about seven tomorrow morning to catch our flight to Sydney.”

       “Sounds good.” He fixed her with his most winning smile as he grabbed his own bag. “So, see you down here in about half an hour?”

       Her confident expression faltered. “Half an hour?”

       “Is that enough time to freshen up? You’re not going to make me find my own dinner in a strange city all alone are you?”

       Spending any time outside of work with this woman was a dumb idea, but the riot of responses that flooded her face at his request was too much fun to resist. Besides, he was a big boy. He could have dinner with a colleague and behave himself.

       “Uh…I was planning to get room service…catch up on some work.”

       Her stammering excuse betrayed the lie.

       “But that’s what flying time is for. Come on. One beer and a quick dinner. I insist.”

       Insisting was probably the wrong move, but for the moment he knew she thought it was in her interests to keep him happy. He wondered if she realized just how open her face was, how easy she was to read. She was torn, knowing it would be unwise to refuse him, at the same time scared to accept. Scared? Yes, he was sure it was fear that flashed in her eyes. Hmm, that was interesting. He wondered why.

       She was attracted to him—he knew that. It wasn’t vanity on his part; life had taught him that most women were. But unlike most women, Cassie had been prickly from the start, not just coolly professional, but actively keeping her distance. Part of him—his pride, mostly, he had to admit—wanted to know why.

       Eventually she gave a short nod. “Half an hour.”

       Ronan ran the shower as cold as it would go and dressed in tan chinos and a pale blue cotton shirt—untucked, collar open and sleeves rolled up. The corporate wardrobe he’d packed for this trip wasn’t especially well suited to this weather and if it kept up, he’d be forced to shop for new clothes.

       He’d been waiting in the foyer for a few minutes when Cassie appeared. She kept her eyes averted from his, looking all sweet and shy. And for a moment Ronan was glad, because he wasn’t sure how well he hid his reaction.

       Her summery floral dress swirled around her knees, revealing shapely calves and strappy sandals. Intriguingly, her toenails were painted orange—not red, not even a strange coral shade of red—but definitely, absolutely, orange. The dress had a little belt at the waist, showing off the hourglass figure that he’d just known lurked under that stuffy uniform. Buttons down the front were fastened demurely, but showed enough for Ronan to glimpse the creamy swells of full breasts. A fine gold chain hung around her neck and her hair was…tied back. As always. Damn.