For one moment he was about to peel them right off. Then his hand paused, mid-motion, as he forced himself to recall the unbelievable facts.
She was a virgin!
And more importantly…
She was his assistant!
‘No!’ he thundered, dragging his lips away from hers. ‘I will not do this!’
Her body screaming out its protest, Isobel looked up at him in confusion. ‘Will not do what?’
‘I will not rob you of your innocence!’
She stared at him, still not understanding. ‘Why not?’
‘Are you crazy? Because a woman’s purity is her greatest gift. And it’s a one-off—you don’t get to use it again. So save it for a man who will give you more than I ever can, Izzy. Don’t throw it away on someone like me.’
For a moment he cupped her chin between his palms, looking down at her with a regret which only compounded her intense feeling of rejection. She jerked her face away—as if to allow him continued contact might in some way contaminate her.
‘Then w-would you mind moving away from me and letting me get up?’ she said, trembling hurt distorting her words.
‘I can try.’ With a grimace, he rose to his feet, the heavy throb at his groin making movement both difficult and uncomfortable.
Despite the scene he now rather grimly anticipated he couldn’t help a flicker of admiration as he looked at Isobel clambering to her feet, tugging furiously at the jacket of her pyjamas. Passion always changed a woman, he mused, but in Izzy’s case it had practically transformed her. Her hair was falling in snake-like tendrils all around her slender shoulders and she stood before him like some bright and unrecognisable sorceress. For a moment he experienced a deep sense of regret and frustration—and then he steeled his heart against his foolishness and turned his back on her.
With shaking fingers Isobel began to do up her pyjamas, realising that she had let herself down—and in so many ways. She had shown Tariq how much she wanted him and he had pushed her away, leaving her feeling guilty that she’d been prepared to ‘throw away’ her virginity on someone like him. How did you ever get back from something like that? The dull truth washed over her. The answer was that you didn’t.
Biting her lip, she watched as he turned away to adjust his jeans, trying to ignore the sense of having missed out on something wonderful. Of having been on the brink of some amazing discovery. Inevitably she was now going to lose her job, and she didn’t even have the compensation of having known him as a lover. But surely it was better to face up to the consequences of her behaviour than to wait for him to put the knife in?
‘You want me to hand my notice in?’ she asked quietly.
This was enough to make Tariq turn back and scrutinise her, steeling himself against the enduring kiss-ability of her darkened lips, knowing that if he didn’t get out of there soon he’d go back on everything he’d just said and thrust deep and hard inside her, tear her precious membrane and leave his mark on her for ever. He shook his head. ‘Actually, that’s precisely what I don’t want. That’s one of the reasons I pulled back. I value you far too much to want to lose you, Izzy.’
In spite of everything, his words took Isobel aback. In five years of working for him it was the first time he’d ever said anything remotely like that. She screwed her face up, wondering how to react to the unfamiliar compliment. ‘You do?’
‘Of course I do—and this week has shown me just how much. I have a lot to thank you for. You’re a hardworking, loyal member of my staff, and I’ve come to rely on you a great deal. And believe me—I’d have a lot of trouble replacing you.’
Isobel kept her face expressionless as something inside her withered and died. ‘I see.’
‘And just because of this one uncharacteristic lapse…’
She grimaced as his voice tailed off. Now he was making her sound like a docile family dog which had unexpectedly jumped up and bitten the postman.
‘I don’t see why it should have to change anything,’ he continued.
‘So you want that we should just forget what has happened and carry on as normal?’
‘In theory, yes.’ His black eyes bored into her. ‘Do you think you can do that?’
It was the patronising tone of the question which swung it. Isobel had been on the verge of telling him that she didn’t think there was any going back—or forward—but his arrogant assumption that she might struggle with resuming their professional relationship made her blood boil.
‘Oh, I don’t think I’d have a problem with it,’ she answered sweetly. ‘How about you?’
Tariq’s eyes narrowed as she tossed him the throwaway question. Was she now implying that she was some sort of irresistible little sex-bomb who was going to test his formidable powers of self-control once they were back in the office? He gave a slow smile. He thought she might be forgetting herself.
Once she was back in her usual environment, with her hair scraped back and her rather frumpy clothes in place, there would be no reoccurrence of that inexplicable burst of lust. There would be no flower-sprigged pyjamas and soft curves to send out such sizzling and mixed messages, threatening to make a man lose his head.
‘I wouldn’t over-estimate your appeal, if I were you,’ he said coolly. ‘Because that would be a big mistake. I can resist you any time I like.’
HOW could he have been so damned stupid?
Tariq stared out of the window at the darkening London skyscape which gave his office its magnificent views. Stars were twinkling in the indigo sky, and in the distance he could see the stately dome of St Paul’s cathedral.
He should have been on top of the world.
The doctor had given him the all-clear, his car was in the garage being painstakingly mended, and his acquisition of the Premiership team looked almost certain. Khayarzah oil revenues were at an all-time high, and he had received an unexpected windfall from some media shares he’d scooped up last year. It seemed that everything he turned his hand to in the world of commerce flourished. In short, business was booming.
He turned away from the magnificent view, trying to put his finger on what was wrong. Wondering why this infuriating air of discontentment simply would not leave him—no matter how hard he tried to alleviate it.
He gave a ragged sigh, knowing all too well what lay at the heart of his irritation yet strangely reluctant to acknowledge its source. Its sweet and unexpected source…
Izzy.
His rescuer and tormentor. His calm and efficient assistant, with all her contradictory qualities, who had somehow—against all the odds—managed to capture his imagination.
Had it been pure arrogance which had made him so certain that his lust for her would dissolve the moment they were back in the office? He’d decided that the crash had weakened him in all ways—mentally, physically and emotionally. He’d thought that was why he had been so curiously susceptible to a woman he had never found in the least bit attractive. An insanity, yes—but a temporary one.
But he had been wrong.
Since being back at work he’d been unable to stop fantasising about her. Or to stop thinking about those prudish pyjamas which had covered up the red-hot body beneath. His mind kept taking him back to their tangled bodies on the floor of her cottage, reminding him of just how close