From Boss to Bridegroom. Victoria Pade

something that appeared far more personal. Far more flattering.

      Then his eyes honed in on hers, delving into them, making her feel even hotter still and suddenly causing her to think about kissing. About him kissing her. About her kissing him back…

      It would be a mistake, she told herself sternly. A huge mistake.

      Yet her mouth went dry with the very notion. Her mind raced with curiosity about how those wonderful male lips would feel pressed to hers. Would they be parted? Would his tongue tease her lips into parting, too? What would he taste like? Would his mouth, his tongue, be as agile as his mind? As forceful as his personality? As powerful as his sex appeal?

      Where would he put his hands? Those big, adept, blunt-fingered hands she’d been mesmerized by all day and evening. Would they be warm? Tender or strong?

      Would she forget everything in one perfect moment of bliss that would make everything right with the world? One brief, perfect moment she could lose herself in the way she hadn’t in so, so long?

      Or would it be more than one moment? Would it go on and on until her lips were numb and every ounce of her was alive with wanting…?

      Lucy realized suddenly that she’d actually leaned forward. Just a hair. But maybe enough to be sending a signal that relayed what was going through her mind. A signal she knew better than to give.

      She sat up straighter. She leaned back ever so slightly but enough to overcompensate if she actually had leaned forward in anticipation of being kissed.

      “So, what time on Monday?” she blurted out, her effort to sound businesslike sounding abrasive to her own ears.

      But all Rand Colton did was smile. A small, secret smile that made her think he knew exactly what had gone through her mind. Knew exactly what she was fighting. Knew exactly what his impact on her entailed.

      “I think we’ve earned a later start. I’ll pick you up at eight instead of seven-thirty.”

      The car came to a stop at the curb in front of her house just then and Lucy silently thanked the fates for that bit of mercy.

      She opened the door before the driver could put the car in park and do it for her. “Monday at eight,” she repeated much too brightly.

      “Lucy?” Rand said to stall her escape.

      “Hmm?” she responded over her shoulder, one foot already on the sidewalk outside.

      “Thanks for today and tonight. If you’d consider taking the job on a permanent basis, it’d be yours.”

      The job.

      So he hadn’t lost sight for even a moment of the fact that they were boss and secretary. Only she had.

      “No thanks,” she said curtly. “In fact I’ll see if I can’t light a fire under that employment agency Monday to arrange some interviews right away.” Before the fire he seemed to have unwittingly and without effort lit inside her singed her for real.

      “Good night,” she said then, getting completely out of the car. “Thanks for dinner.”

      He acknowledged her gratitude with another lift of his chin before he said, “See you Monday.”

      Lucy fled the car, leaving the door to be closed by Frank and fighting the impression that there had been some sort of promise in Rand’s parting “See you Monday.”

      It was only her imagination, she told herself. Just as all those thoughts of him kissing her had only been in her imagination.

      And as she let herself into her town house she couldn’t be sure which presented more danger to her—her own wayward thoughts or the potent appeal of Rand Colton.