His stomach jolted at the thought of her walking around the office without anything on underneath her clothes. What a shockingly appealing idea!
Justin suppressed a sigh and wondered how long it would be before Rachel stopped being the object of his sexual fantasies. A week? A month? A year?
Damn, but he wished he’d resisted temptation last night. And he wished he’d never suggested that bloody make-over. He wanted his old Rachel back. She didn’t stir his blood or challenge his conscience. She was sweet and kind and calming. This new Rachel was anything but calming. Even now, he wanted to say to hell with all this conciliatory chit-chat, let’s just go back to bed and stay there all day. And to hell with underwear in the office as well. I want you buck-naked under your clothes. And no bra. Never a bra. I want your beautiful breasts accessible to my touch at the flick of a button. I want to be able to lift your skirt at any time and lean you over my desk and just do it. I want…
Justin’s fantasies were really running away with him when a sudden appalling realisation reined them in. What he wanted to do with Rachel was exactly the sort of thing Mandy’s rapacious boss had been doing with her!
Justin’s blood ran cold at the thought, which was good. Very good. And very effective.
His burgeoning arousal ebbed away immediately.
That was what he’d do in future. Think of Mandy whenever these unacceptable desires struck. Pity he hadn’t thought of the bitch last night. But better later than never!
Rachel realised that her attempt at a little joke about her underwear had backfired when Justin’s back stiffened and his face took on an icily disapproving expression. Truly! It was getting difficult to remember him as the red-hot lover who’d made her do all the deliciously wicked things he’d made her do last night.
All of a sudden, he was acting like some prude!
Still, maybe that was what he basically was. A prude. Maybe he had been drunker last night than he seemed at the time.
Whatever, it was clear he deeply regretted having sex with her and was doing his level best to return their relationship to its previous professional-only status, even going so far as to want her to go back to looking much the same as she used to.
Fat chance of that, buster, she thought with private mutiny. If you want me to revert to plain-Jane mode, how about you doing something about your looks? Why don’t you stack on twenty kilos, and put a paper bag over your head for good measure? Oh, and start wearing grotty, nerdy clothes, none of those super-suave suits you wear into the office, or that coolly casual outfit you’ve got on at the moment. After all, sexual attraction—and distraction—was a two-way thing.
From the moment she’d set eyes on him again this morning, her heart had quickened and her eyes had surreptitiously gobbled him up. Frankly, it had been an effort so far not to keep staring at him in those smart beige trousers and that sexy black open-necked shirt. She supposed she should be grateful that he wasn’t wearing shorts, but she was still brutally aware of what lay beneath his clothes. All that working out in the gym had produced a fantastic body. Talk about toned and honed! She hadn’t been able to stop touching it last night.
In fact, she hadn’t stopped touching it. If truth be told, she wanted to touch it again. Right now.
Rachel gave herself a savage mental shake and rose to her feet.
‘I’ll make us some coffee to go with this food,’ she said, glancing resignedly at the two plates of mixed sandwiches that were sitting on the table. She still didn’t have any appetite and would definitely need help in washing bread down her throat.
‘You don’t have to wait on me,’ he said curtly, and rose to his feet as well. ‘I’ll help.’
Getting the coffee together was awkward. When Justin brushed her arm Rachel jumped away as though she’d been stung by a bee. When he glared at her she winced inside.
Lord, but she was like a cat on a hot tin roof around him. The lightest of touches and her skin felt scalded.
Rachel could only hope that time would lessen this sudden and intense physical awareness. After all, last night was still fresh in her mind. And her body was still harbouring some solid reminders as well. She felt tender in some places and rock-hard in others. On top of that, her whole system was suffering from a general feeling of agitation, which was perverse, since all that sex should at least have relaxed her nerves, not fired them up.
Hopefully, things would improve when they were back into their normal working-day routine. It wasn’t helping that they were still alone together in this hotel, well away from their real lives. Perhaps that was another reason why they’d both acted so out of character last night. A romantic setting was well-known for undermining people’s sexual defences. A woman’s, anyway.
Rachel’s hand shook as she picked up her cup and saucer, some coffee slopping into the saucer. Justin shot her another impatient look, which irked her considerably.
‘OK, so I’m clumsy this morning,’ she snapped. ‘We can’t all be perfect all the time.’
‘I would have thought that was obvious after last night,’ he retorted, and carried his coffee back to the terrace without spilling a drop.
Rachel fumed as she followed. What a pig, she began thinking. And she’d always imagined him to be kind. Why, he was nothing but a typical male. Trying to put the blame on her for last night. He’d been the one to kiss her first! He was the one to open Pandora’s box. And now he was trying to shove her back in there again and close the lid.
Well, she was not going to go. She was free now. Free of Eric. Free of the past. Free to be the woman she wanted to be.
Which was not some mealy-mouthed creature who was too afraid to speak up or be herself lest she lose her job. There were plenty more PA positions to be had. And plenty more men out there who could turn her on. She didn’t need Justin McCarthy to provide her with either a salary or sex.
Despite her disgruntled state, Rachel decided that in deference to having to tolerate Justin’s constant company for the next few hours, she would hold her tongue for today. But, come tomorrow, if he started pressuring her to be something she wasn’t she’d start looking around for another job.
Because there was no going back after this. The die had been cast and she intended to roll with it!
JUSTIN could not believe it when he walked into work the following morning—a cowardly half an hour late—and found Rachel wearing what he’d always thought her dreariest black suit, yet looking so sexy, it was sinful.
The severely tailored jacket with its long sleeves and lapelled neckline seemed tighter, and more shapely, hugging her small waist and full breasts. Had she taken it in at the seams? She’d definitely taken the skirt up, he realised when she brought in his morning coffee, the hem now a couple of inches above her knees instead of sedately covering them. And she was wearing black stockings. Not the thick, opaque, sexless kind. The sheer, silky, sexy kind which drew a man’s eye and made him picture them attached to suspenders.
When he started wondering just that he wrenched his eyes back up to her face, which wasn’t much help. OK, so she had put her hair up, as he’d requested. But not the way she’d used to, scraped back severely into a knot. It was caught up very loosely with a long black easily removable clip. Several strands had already escaped its ineffectual clasp to curve around her chin, drawing his gaze to her mouth, a mouth which bore no resemblance to Rachel’s usual workaday mouth. It was more like that mouth which had tormented and teased him on Saturday night. Blood-red and full and tempting. Oh, so incredibly tempting.
Justin clenched his teeth hard in his jaw and dropped his gaze back to his work. ‘Just put the coffee down there, thank you, Rachel,’ he