LITMIR.BIZ

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against the white paint. His shoulders were rigid with tension, his jaw set as he wrestled with instinct.

      “I will not seduce Taylor,” he repeated over and over, and knew he was lying. Having her encased in his robe wasn’t enough. He wanted her encased in him, while her body sheathed his in hot, wet welcome.

      Poor, sweet Taylor would probably run a mile if she discovered what he was thinking. Bundled up in his white robe, she’d looked even smaller than usual. Though she wasn’t a petite woman, next to his bulk she appeared fragile. His biceps bulged as he tensed his body, trying to tame the desire rippling through him, hot and voracious. Its talons tore at his control, hungering for heat and abandon and sheer, unadulterated pleasure.

      Taylor had definitely awakened the sleeping tiger within him. The question was, did she have any interest in satiating it? Well…she had called him gorgeous. Despite his frustrated desire, he smiled, remembering the first time he’d seen her.

      He’d looked up from drafting changes to a contract, expecting to find a mature woman in his office doorway. The agency knew his requirements. He didn’t want some young would-be starlet trying to impress him with her “charms”—he wanted superb typing skills not mediocre acting skills.

      The woman in the doorway had had dark hair pulled back into a severe bun, lush lips softened only by gloss and lovely blue eyes. He’d detected a trace of challenge in those too-blue eyes, as if his reputation didn’t scare her. She’d been dressed in a knee-length skirt and fitted jacket, both in solid navy, looking every inch the executive assistant.

      He’d wanted to groan in despair. It would’ve taken a blind man not to notice that she was stunning. He’d known from experience that if he gave her the slightest encouragement, she’d pull out some undoubtedly beautiful hair from that bun, undo the buttons on her jacket and sashay over.

      “I need this dictation typed yesterday,” he’d growled, throwing her a tape.

      She’d caught it and left, without commenting on his brusqueness. Dismissing her from his mind, he’d started to race through another piece of work, aware that without a competent secretary, his day was likely to end sometime in the wee hours of the morning.

      Less than half an hour later, she’d walked back in. Handing him several typed sheets, she’d picked up his handwritten edits to the contract and returned to her workstation. Wondering at her confidence, he’d turned his eyes to what she’d given him and just about died of shock.

      Stalking out, he’d stood over her desk. “Name?”

      “Taylor Reid.” Her response had been cool.

      “Do you want to be a movie star?”

      Blue, blue eyes had widened. “Good God, no.”

      He’d grinned at that disgusted statement. It had been the first time that she’d made him smile. “Fine. Good work. Do I have you for the next three months?”

      “Yes.”

      His delight in having found an extremely efficient secretary hidden beneath the form of a beautiful woman had been borne out. By the end of her first week, she’d organized his office, caught up on the backlog of filing and yelled at him when he’d raised his voice to her.

      And somewhere along the way, he’d found himself coming to work just to hear her tart responses to his questions, and bask in her sunny smile. They’d never crossed any line, never even touched, but in his heart he’d known that he wanted to claim her as his woman. Only his promise to himself that he’d be faithful, unlike his philandering father and womanizing half brothers, had kept him from taking her. Or perhaps it had been the fact that Taylor had seen him as honorable and he’d wanted to live up to her expectations.

      Now, there were no barriers to what he wanted to do with sweet, sexy Taylor, and his body was demanding he make up for almost three years of abstinence, broken only by that one, bittersweet afternoon with Bonnie. After her death, he’d had plenty of offers and no trouble refusing them all. He’d thought his emotional centre had died with his child, taking with it his need for a woman’s soft touch. But his reaction to Taylor told him that his body hadn’t shut down, it had merely gone into hibernation, waiting for the one woman who could bring him back to life.

      Taylor.

      The shower shut off. Shaking his head, he pushed off the wall and headed down the stairs to the kitchen. After her assault tonight, Taylor would hardly be reassured if she found him waiting for her outside the bathroom, blatantly aroused and more than ready to peel off her single layer of clothing. He didn’t know if he could control himself around skin pink from heat, body naked and touchable under the robe. His robe.

      Then, minutes later, she walked into the kitchen, wrapped in that damn robe. “Is that coffee I smell?”

      He’d kicked off his shoes in the living room and saw that she was barefoot, too. “You’ll get cold on the tiles. I’ll find you some socks.” He didn’t even to try to fight his protective instincts toward her.

      She came to stand next to him, holding out a hand for the cup of coffee he held. “Coffee first.”

      “This is…mine,” he finished, as she stole the cup and took a big gulp. He watched her swallow, heard her sigh in appreciation and felt all sorts of things harden in his body. Her fresh, womanly scent made him want to strip her down to her glowing skin and crush her body under his, while his hands stroked and kneaded. Frowning, he backed off a couple of steps. “How are you feeling?”

      “Better.” She turned, cradling the cup in her palms. “Donald didn’t really scare me—I guess I just felt betrayed.” Disappointment edged her tone.

      He understood. “You’re safe here.”

      Her smile was glorious. “I know. I trust you.”

      Dio! he thought. No way in hell could he seduce her now. “I’ll get you those socks.”

      “Don’t worry about it. Let’s go in the living room instead.” She put down the now empty cup. “Are you coming?”

      Bemused, he followed her into the spacious room. A small music system was arranged in wall brackets on the left, while a large sofa upholstered in blue sat against the opposite wall. However, the main feature was the floor-to-ceiling window immediately in front. Stretching from one end of the room to the other, it looked out over the sea to the dormant island volcano of Rangitoto. Tonight, the weather obscured most of the view, allowing only a glimpse of crashing breakers.

      “It’s so open.” She walked across the plush dove-grey carpet to spread her palm against the glass.

      He came to stand beside her. “It’s reflective. No one can see inside, even if they get into the grounds.”

      Next to him, Taylor’s profile was clean and pure. The curling hair around her face looked like it would be incredibly soft to the touch. The urge to reach out and test his theory was so strong that he shoved his hands into his pants pockets and clenched them tight.

      “Your home’s very tidy.”

      To him, it looked barren. “I don’t live with a kid.”

      She smiled fondly. “He is a tad messy but I suppose muddy sneakers come with little boys.”

      “I’m surprised you let him go on the camp.”

      Her eyes moved from contemplating the turbulent sea to fix on his face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

      He raised a brow. “You’re very protective of Nick.”

      “I’m his only family.” Her defensiveness was clear. “I can be protective if I want.”

      He left the topic for now, aware how touchy she was about her brother. He’d tried to broach the subject with her while she’d worked for him, but she’d frozen him out. At the time, he’d been frustrated at having to accept that he didn’t have any rights over her brother…or over her.

      Yet.

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