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Her Not-So-Secret Diary
Anne Oliver


From: Sophie Buchanan Sophie’s fantasy man is supposed to stay in her dreams… To: Jared Sanderson …until her diary detailing her saucy dream gets accidentally e-mailed to her sexy new boss! Subject: Red-Hot Dream!Suddenly Sophie has Jared’s attention! He’s not looking for commitment, and luckily that’s also the last thing on Sophie’s mind, so the stage is set for a sizzling no-strings affair. But as work, steamy nights and painful secrets all begin to build up Sophie soon knows she’s in a whole heap of trouble…












Praise for Anne Oliver


‘This attraction-at-first-sight story has just the right blend of adventure, passion and heartfelt emotion to make you want to spend time with this terrific twosome.’

—RT Book Reviews on

Hot Boss, Wicked Nights



‘A tantalizingly wicked read … Oliver gives the reader a tale of a man who knows how to be so good at being bad.’

—www.cataromance.com on

Hot Boss, Wicked Nights



‘A terrific story. Anne Oliver has created a winner in Ben, the hot and sexy but equally complex hero.’

—RT Book Reviews on

Marriage at the Millionaire’s Command



‘… filled with idiosyncratic characters that endeared themselves to this reader and made their lives and careers what they wanted it to be without losing the love and passion they discover between them.’

—www.cataromance.com on

Memoirs of a Millionaire’s Mistress




About the Author


About the Anne Oliver

When not teaching or writing, ANNE OLIVER loves nothing more than escaping into a book. She keeps a box of tissues handy—her favourite stories are intense, passionate, against-all-odds romances. Eight years ago she began creating her own characters in paranormal and time travel adventures, before turning to contemporary romance. Other interests include quilting, astronomy, all things Scottish, and eating anything she doesn’t have to cook. Sharing her characters’ journeys with readers all over the world is a privilege … and a dream come true. Anne lives in Adelaide, South Australia, and has two adult children.

Visit her website at www.anne-oliver.com She loves to hear from readers. E-mail her at anne@anne-oliver.com




Also by Anne Oliver


When He Was Bad …

Mistress: At What Price?

Memoirs of a Millionaire’s Mistress

Hot Boss, Wicked Nights

Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk


Her Not-So-Secret Diary

Anne Oliver
















www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To old cats and favourite places in the sun.

Miss you, Cleo.

Thanks to Kathy, Linda, Sharon and Lynn

for your advice on all things PA, and to Meg

for her valued insight and suggestions.




CHAPTER ONE


OH … THE things the man could do … He was the most creative lover she’d ever had. She’d enjoyed a few but this one was the flame on her Flaming Sambuca. Slithering lower, Sophie Buchanan licked the lingering flavour of blackberries and cream from her lips. As sweet as it was, she was done with dessert.

The silk sheets slid cool and smooth against her skin, the perfect foil for his hard, hot weight as she arched her body beneath him. Wanting more. Wanting everything. And she told him what that was. Every glorious detail.

Then she sighed as he set about fulfilling those requests, starting at her ear lobe and working his way down.

His mouth was warm, wet and wicked, suckling at her neck, laving her collarbone and sending goose bumps from the roots of her hair right down to the tips of her toes and every throbbing place in between. His thumbs, lightly calloused, chafed her sensitised flesh as he tweaked her nipples until … oh … bliss … she was in heaven.

‘There’s more,’ his gravel and whisky voice promised.

She hummed her approval, absorbing the scent and texture of his skin against hers while his hands continued their erotic journey.

Wanting to absorb the feel of his flesh through her fingertips, she slid her fingers slowly down his spine, touching every vertebra in turn, pressing her thumbs into the hard muscle on either side. She was rewarded with a harsh groan that tickled her ear and told her he was enjoying it as much as she.

Then he touched her some more. Everywhere. Everywhere at once. His fingers sought, found and satisfied all her secret places. Ripples of pleasure flowed through her veins like liquid gold—his expertise knew no bounds and it seemed his only desire was to bring her pleasure.

And he did, in every way. Jared … The name rippled through her mind like silken ribbons in a tropical breeze.

He smiled, traced her mouth with a finger then with his tongue, and she smiled too, before indulging in the most sumptuous of kisses. He tasted rich and dark, like the blackberries and cream they’d shared, and ever-so-slightly dangerous, which was okay, since she knew she was perfectly safe with him.

Yes … Perfection.

He kneed her thighs apart then slid inside her with agonisingly exquisite slowness. It was as if the world forgot to turn. As if it were coming to a stop. And perhaps it was. Perhaps it had ceased to exist, because it seemed it was only the two of them in a sparkling cocoon of everlasting velvet night.

And then.

She heard a moan, as if her voice came from somewhere else, and her eyes slid open, the darkness alive and glowing with wonder, the tidal wave of her climax still crashing around her. She lay a moment listening to the sound of her elevated breathing while her body slowly floated back to earth.

And reality.

She touched her still tingling lips, realised she was still smiling. And why wouldn’t she be? Oh … my … goodness.

As her eyes adjusted to night’s soft glow through her living-room window, she saw the Gold Coast’s languid summer’s evening had sprinkled the indigo sky with silver dust.

A dream. And the best sex she’d never had.

Yet even though his image remained tanta-lisingly vague, she could still taste him on her tongue. Which was as fanciful as it was true, she knew, but that didn’t make it any less sumptuous. As dream lovers went he was a five-star keeper. Which, all things considered, was a shame because why weren’t there any men out there in the real world to compare?

She shook her head against the cushion. It didn’t matter if there were a zillion comparable men beating a path to her door, she wasn’t interested. She didn’t need—or want—a real man in her life ever again. Not after Glen. He’d destroyed what they had and left her feeling less than a woman. Her dream lovers suited her just fine. Dream lovers were all about you and your wants and they didn’t let you down.

Best of all, they were safe.

Her laptop lay on the coffee table, its tiny power light winking in the dimness. Rousing herself, she switched on the reading lamp. Every luscious detail, before the glory fades.

Even though she no longer attended counselling sessions, the dream journal she still kept was on her night-stand, so she dragged the computer onto her lap, created a dream folder, flexed her fingers.

His name was Jared, and this dream hottie could scorch her sheets any time he wanted … The words flowed onto the screen, tantalising her all over again. She reread the document, flushing hot as she did so. Whew, it was like reading one of those steamy romance novels. What would her counsellor have made of it?

Then her fingers stalled above the keyboard. Jared? Her heart thumped once and a jolt of heat arrowed through her body. She didn’t know anyone by that name … Unless she counted Jared Sanderson—and it couldn’t be him. How could you have the hots for a guy you’d never met, let alone seen up close? Pam’s boss. And since her friend was off work sick and Sophie was temping for her, that made him her boss for the next day or so.

A shivery sensation shot through her body, making the tiny hairs on the back of her neck and down her arms stand up. A glimpse of dark cropped hair and a snowy white shirt stretched tight over impossibly broad shoulders when she’d arrived at the office of J Sanderson Property Investments and Refurbishments this morning.

She shook the image away. Big boss Jared had been too busy or simply too rude to bother introducing himself to his lowly temporary PA before heading out for the rest of the day.

It wasn’t him, she told herself firmly. The name had stuck in her mind, that was all. Not to mention that stunning physique. And tall and dark had always been her thing.

No. If he had hit her sweet spot on some subconscious level and it had manifested in her dreams, it didn’t matter since he’d never know.

So it wasn’t a problem. Not a problem at all. Nor was she going to allow this particular dream lover to erode the competent professional image she’d worked so hard for. She’d come to Surfers to bury past hurts, to begin a new life.

Professional. It reminded her that she’d not yet emailed the file Pam had asked her to edit before forwarding to the office. Switching to email, she entered the address Pam had supplied and began a brief accompanying note. Dear Jared …

She paused. Typing those words redefined the image and rekindled the smouldering heat in her lower body to life again. She fanned a hand in front of her face, a smile tugging at her mouth despite herself. Where the heck was that professionalism?

She deleted the words, then shook her fingers in front of her for a few seconds, pursed her lips and began again. Mr Sanderson … Much better. Please find the Lygon and Partners report attached for your approval. Regards, Sophie Buchanan for Pam Albright.

She attached Pam’s revised document, pressed Send, then closed her computer and the lamp and headed to her bedroom through the shadows. She settled back against the pillows with a sigh. Maybe she’d get lucky some more.

She’d barely closed her eyes when something sharp and hot and possibly terminal lodged dead centre in her chest, and they snapped wide open again. She couldn’t have … She Could Not.

Jackknifing up, she stumbled back to the living room and her laptop and stabbed the On button. Her fingers twitched with impatience while the little computer took its sweet time powering up. For heaven’s sake, could it load any slower?

When her email screen appeared she scrolled to her Sent Items folder and … her breath stopped. Her heart stopped. Everything stopped. Oh. My. God.

Her dream file was this very minute awaiting Jared Sanderson’s approval.

Her heart restarted and hysterical laughter bubbled up her throat as she quickly attached the correct document and resent. Did the man have a sense of humour? According to Pam, no, he didn’t, and her mouth twisted as she blew out a breath.

Even if he did see the humour in the situation, what she’d written was so shockingly. well, shocking. The worst, the very worst of it, was his name was in there. Only his first name, but that was more than enough … She was never ever going to put her sexy dreams in writing again.

The swipe card they’d given her didn’t operate the building’s front door so there was no point going to the office now to try and delete it. Which meant she’d have to wait till someone opened up in the morning to get into the office. Seven o’clock at the earliest.

With a groan, she let her head fall back and gazed at the ceiling. But she didn’t see it. All she saw was the look on the man’s face when he opened her email.

She was so dead.

He was an uncle. Jared strolled into his living room just after 10:00 p.m. with two glasses and a bottle of the best Aussie Chardonnay. A niece. Arabella Fleur. Cute as a cupcake, with a mop of dark hair, big eyes and a rosebud mouth. Fingers and toes all accounted for. The grin he’d been wearing since Crystal had delivered her firstborn this afternoon seemed to be permanently carved into his cheeks.

His youngest sister Melissa was home already; he could hear the shower running. Setting the bottle and glasses on the coffee table, he sat on the sofa and checked his phone for messages and the day’s office emails. He gave most only a cursory glance. Pam would have phoned with anything urgent.

Sophie Buchanan. The unfamiliar name popped up with a reference to the Lygon report. Ah … now he remembered Pam had gone home sick yesterday. Crystal’s nine-fifteen call this morning informing him she was in labour ten days early and that Ian’s flight wasn’t due in from Sydney for another hour had pushed everything and everyone out of his mind. Sophie must be the temp Pam had organised.

‘Hey, Liss?’ he called when he heard movement in the hallway. ‘Get your butt in here. We’ve got some celebrating to do.’ He popped the cork and filled the glasses as Melissa appeared in the doorway, wrapped in her robe, her red hair damp about her face.

‘Ooh, lovely.’ She wasted no time padding across the room and taking the proffered glass.

‘Special occasion, Auntie Melissa.’

She grinned, clinked her glass to his but remained standing. ‘Welcome to the world, Arabella Fleur.’ She sipped then said, ‘She’s got your ears. Nice and flat.’

He tasted the wine, then grinned back, chuffed with the idea that some tiny part of him at least was immortal. ‘You think?’

‘I do. This is nice.’ Another sip, followed by a long, slow swallow. Her brows arched over her aquamarine eyes as she glanced at the label. ‘But I still prefer the French variety.’

The bubbles fizzed on his tongue as he studied her. Their father’s death had left the three of them orphans. He’d been eighteen, Crystal thirteen, Melissa just six. She’d never known their mother, who’d died when she was two weeks old. When had that little girl become this sophisticated young woman? Too sophisticated. ‘You’re not supposed to be experienced enough to know the difference.’

‘Oh, pul-lease, I’m nearly eighteen.’ She swung away. ‘You sound like a father.’

Her accusation took the shine off. Twelve years ago Jared had taken on the role and responsibilities of both parents. And he didn’t regret it for a minute. But sometimes.

‘Maybe,’ he acknowledged. ‘But I won’t apologise for it. I love you, Lissa, and that’s never going to change.’

‘I know.’ Her voice softened and she shook her head. ‘But sometimes …’

Yeah. Raising Lissa had been the most challenging experience of his life. And he had a feeling the hardest part wasn’t done yet. The letting-go part.

‘Speaking of fathers … and babies and all …’ Twirling her glass, she pinned him with the same intense gaze. ‘When are you going to find some poor girl who’s willing to put up with your conservative ways and start a family of your own?’ And let me get on with my life, her eyes said.

To avoid her familiar rant, he picked up his phone again, flicked through his messages once more. ‘No hurry. I still have you to look out for.’

She made a noise at the back of her throat. ‘You were my age when Dad died. When are you going to get it into your head that I’m an adult, w—’

‘Not for another three weeks, you’re not.’

‘And another thing,’ she steamrolled ahead. ‘I’ve been …’

What the … ? He blinked, refocused, Melissa’s protests fading into the background somewhere. His name was Jared, and this dream hottie could scorch her sheets any time he wanted—

‘Something wrong?’

‘What?’ He tore his eyes away momentarily to glimpse Melissa staring at him. He shook his head, whether in denial or to clear it, he didn’t know. ‘It’s nothing.’ Nothing he wanted to share, least of all with his baby sister who’d just accused him of being conservative. My snakeskin-print G-string melted away beneath the heat of his hand and my thighs fell apart as he—Whoa.

He threw back a mouthful of the bubbly but the liquid did little to soothe his suddenly very dry, very tight throat. He set the glass down with a clunk.

‘Bad news?’

‘Not exactly …’ Though what exactly this was, he didn’t know. Yet. But he intended finding out.

‘So, as I was saying, I’ve been giving it some thought, and—’

‘Sorry, Liss, I’m going to have to deal with this,’ he said, rising. He caught the frustration in her eyes but he couldn’t give her his full attention until he’d resolved the hot little matter currently burning a hole in his palm. ‘We’ll talk later, okay?’

He headed straight for his study and booted up his computer. Drummed his fingers on the desk. The attachment was titled with today’s date. No reference to Lygon.

He swiped his palms over day-old stubble, clicked the file open. The text flashed onto the screen. It was pink. Wild, colourful and erotic. Despite himself, he felt a smile tug the corner of his mouth. The more he read, the hotter it became.

The hotter he became.

He shifted on his chair to ease a growing pressure beneath the front of his trousers. The scene was so vivid he could almost feel the silky smoothness of her inner thighs, the budded nipple against his palm, her sultry heat as he plunged inside her.

When he’d finished, most of his blood had pooled in his lap. He leaned back, rolled tensed shoulders and shook his head to clear the images. He’d had no idea words alone could turn a man rock hard in less than a minute.

Man, he really needed to get laid.

Sophie Buchanan. Had he met her? He didn’t recognise the name, but then he didn’t always remember the names of women he’d slept with a few months after the fact. And it had been that long. His business and family made sure of that.

Snakeskin print. He grinned to himself. He’d definitely remember snakeskin. And he was pretty sure he’d have remembered that kinky position. Was it even anatomically possible? He was damn well willing to give it his best shot—given the opportunity …

So … Sophie Buchanan must have attached the wrong document to her email. Didn’t stop him sending it to his printer. Should he ignore it tomorrow? Mention it to her? Tempting to watch her reaction, but, professionally speaking, in his place of business? Probably not.

She’d sent it thirty minutes ago, he noted. Had she been in bed? In her snakeskin G-string, perhaps. Lust hazed his vision, sweat slicked his palms, his brow, the back of his neck.

Steady, he ordered himself. Then another thought occurred to him. Was this some kind of set-up? Perhaps it was her intention to get him hot and bothered. What if she’d deliberately set out to seduce him? Looking for a more permanent position in his company via his bed. Disgust left a nasty taste in his mouth. Equally distasteful was the thought that she was attracted to his wealth and prepared to do anything to savour some of it.

The printer shot out the first page. That was when he noticed the minuscule print in the footer: dreamdiary.

A dream. Scanning the page, he nodded slowly and his smile returned. Okay, that made sense. Some woman’s dream fantasy … and he’d been the star attraction. His smile widened to an all-out grin.

What did this woman look like? Masses of unruly wheat-blonde hair. A wickedly clever mouth. Overinflated breasts with large pink nipples. Sexy, supple and spontaneous. Sophie.

Still grinning, he folded the two steaming pages, tucked them in his pocket.

He was looking forward to tomorrow morning.

From her car parked nearby, Sophie stared through the windscreen of her Mazda hatch. The tall building’s glass façade seemed to glint with power and authority in the early morning sunshine. The offices of J Sanderson Property Investments and Refurbishments occupied the top two floors.

Just the thought of what she had to do had her heart pounding into her throat, her fingers white-knuckled on the steering wheel. He won’t be there. Please don’t let him be there. She’d set his agenda yesterday and knew he had a breakfast meeting in Coolangatta, a thirty-minute drive away. He wasn’t due at the office until 10:00 a.m.

Which didn’t mean squat. In Sophie’s experience bosses never did the expected.

She drew in a deep fortifying breath. Get this over with. Gripping her bag, she climbed out into the already balmy, salt-scented air, smoothed her fade-into-the-background beige knee-length skirt and headed for the building.

A few people were out on their morning jog along the wide stretch of beach, a soft aqua sea foamed along its edge. Not a suit or briefcase in sight. She checked her watch. Two minutes to seven. She’d not slept a wink, worrying about Jared Sanderson’s reaction if he saw her email before she could delete it. If he hadn’t already checked his emails from home, that was.

Don’t even think about it.

Pam had complained the man never knew when to stop. Sophie’s stomach dipped suddenly as if weighted down with a bag of that wet sand beyond, and she quickened her steps.

At the entrance, she fiddled with the collar of her white blouse, ensuring all but the top button was secure. She’d scrunched her thick long hair into a clasp at the back of her head.

She smiled a good morning to the security guy unlocking the door as she withdrew her swipe card from the pocket in the side of her bag and kept moving—not too fast so as to draw attention to herself—to the elevators.

A moment later she stepped out into the hushed Sanderson offices. Quickly skirting the main reception area, she crossed the oblique sun-striped carpet to Pam’s desk, then slipped her handbag into the desk drawer.

The room was empty, still and so quiet she could hear the ocean’s eternal shoosh beyond the thick glass windows. And the guilty echo of her pulse.

The swipe card gave her access to the Inner Sanctum but she’d not had a reason to enter yesterday. Today, however … Pushing the door open, she registered nothing beyond the scent of leather and electronics as she swooped on the only thing that mattered right now. His desk was L-shaped and the computer was positioned against the wall, which meant if he turned up she’d see him to her left.

She switched the machine on. Waited on a knife’s edge. Because her legs were shaky, she barely hesitated before she sat down on his wide leather chair and rolled it forward. The faint fragrance of sandalwood met her nostrils, a heart-stopping reminder that this was a gross invasion of his privacy. She tapped in the password Pam had given her. The email icon appeared, she clicked on it, waiting, barely breathing while the messages rolled down the screen. There. Her email. Flagged as unread.

A noise, part sob, part laugh, mostly relief, escaped her as with two swift clicks she deleted the email permanently. Done. Simple.

She leaned back, blew out a long slow breath while her heart continued to thump like crazy against her ribs. I.T. security never audited executive email. Did they?

She would not think about that now. She hit the keyboard and brought his day’s agenda up on screen. All she had to do was slip back to her desk and no one would—

‘Good morning.’ The deep masculine voice steamrolled over her senses like steel wrapped in black velvet.

She couldn’t have leapt out of the chair quicker if she’d been shot at. Her mind scrambled for words—any words—but to her mortification all that came out was the sound of air rushing past her tonsils.

She got an impression of height, power and stunning sexuality while a pair of enigmatic olive-green eyes studied her. And her stomach dropped to her professional, low-heeled, sling-back shoes.

‘Ms Buchanan, I presume?’




CHAPTER TWO


HOW long had he been standing there?

‘Yes … Ah … Sophie … ‘ she managed, two stuttering heartbeats later. ‘Sophie Buchanan.’

And, oh … he was gorgeous, from the sun-bleached tips of his dark brown hair to that clean-shaven jaw that looked strong enough to crack rocks on. From the pressed white shirt and charcoal tie to the fresh sandalwood soap scent winding through her senses. She didn’t dare let her gaze wander down the rest of him.

He was the kind of man that made you momentarily forget your own name because you were too busy drawing breath and taking in the view.

For heaven’s sake, you could be in serious trouble here, girl. Focus. She dragged the scattered remnants of her business self together. ‘Good morning … Mr Sanderson … I was just … I’ve brought your agenda … up.’ Then, as if she hadn’t just been hacking into his computer without his knowledge, she walked smartly around from behind his desk, stuck out her hand. Smiled. And, for once, thanked the genes that had bestowed her with a five-feet-ten height advantage—but still it wasn’t enough because this man was at least six feet two. ‘I’m looking forward to working with you today.’

His firm unyielding palm met hers—an instant zap—and she had to force herself not to think about the way he’d palmed her breasts in her dream last night.

Because nothing surer, this was that guy.

And that was bad. Very bad. She didn’t want her dream lover spilling into her working life and she needed every day’s employment she could get. How was she going to face him all day today and not remember how it felt to be made mad, passionate and sizzling love to? And more importantly, not to let it show?

At least he didn’t know. He couldn’t … Or did he? One corner of his mouth stretched into some semblance of a smile but the eyes … there was a lot going on behind those shadowed green eyes.

‘Call me Jared,’ he said, still imprisoning her hand within his large firm grip. ‘We keep things informal around here.’

Yes, very informal. Smile still frozen in place, she tugged her fingers from his grasp, clasped her tingling hand at her side and reminded herself that he hadn’t bothered to introduce himself yesterday. ‘Right. Jared—’ She practically bit off the word and pressed her lips together. She had not just moaned his name the way she had last night, but guilty heat streaked into her cheeks anyway. He was only speaking to her now because she was in his office.

To delete an email from his computer.

The screen of which he was studying, brows lowered. Against her will, her eyes flicked there too, to make sure the file hadn’t somehow popped up again. When she looked back at him he was studying her with that same inscrutable expression.

He seemed to shake it away and said, ‘I apologise for missing you yesterday, I had to rush off. My sister went into labour and her husband was unavoidably detained. I trust Mimi looked after you?’

The receptionist. ‘Yes, she did.’ Sophie instantly forgave him for yesterday’s lapse. How many guys were so involved with their sisters that they’d rush off to be with them during labour? Unlike her brother, who’d not contacted her since he’d escaped the hell that was their home and moved to Melbourne years ago.

‘Did everything go okay?’ she said, relieved to have something other than that dreaded email and the sexual buzz that seemed to surround them to focus on. ‘What did she have?’

His eyes warmed and, oh, my, he had the most disarmingly crooked grin that kind of creased his left cheek and threatened to buckle her knees.

‘Everything went great.’ If he’d been the father he couldn’t have sounded more delighted. ‘It’s a girl. Arabella. Three and a half kilos or seven pounds seven ounces in the old money.’

‘Wonderful. Lovely name.’ She paused. ‘So I guess you were busy last night, then. Celebrating?’ Far too busy to catch up on boring old matters such as emails from the office.

He looked at her with an unsettling directness, as if he’d heard her thoughts. Indeed, as if he knew what she’d been enjoying last night, with him. And more of that blood pumped into her cheeks.

He smiled again, that warmth back in his eyes. ‘Melissa and I had a champagne or two.’

Melissa? He was involved. Sophie felt as if something had jabbed her skin and left her deflating piece by piece. She had to force her shoulders back and stand straight. Pam hadn’t let her in on that little snippet. She’d told her he didn’t have time for relationships, his family took precedence, that women were way down on his list, and, no, he wasn’t gay.

Sophie reminded herself quickly and sternly that it made no difference. In fact it was good. Great. Men were off her agenda for life. And she was going overseas in three weeks and five days.

She lifted her chin to demonstrate a confidence she was far from feeling. ‘I won’t hold you up. I know you have an eight a.m. meeting in Coolangatta.’ Thank heavens. She could—

‘No rush,’ he said in that steel and velvet voice that both startled and enticed.

‘I …’ She watched the way the muscles in his back shifted beneath the smooth white cotton as he sank into his plush leather chair. Held her breath and waited for her heart to stop while she watched his long tanned fingers work the keyboard and … Oh, dear … Remembered those clever fingers working on her body … The sensation peppered her skin with instant goose-bumps.

She shook the fantasy away. More important to worry about how long he’d been watching her at his desk and what he’d seen. From her position, she saw him click off his agenda and bring up his emails. Her stomach tightened. Oh, no.

‘Wouldn’t want to miss anything important.’ He glanced sideways at her, although how a glance could scour your eyes for every secret you’d ever kept and last for eternity—

Prickly heat climbed up her neck and her hand rose unsteadily to play with the button at her throat. ‘I’ll let you get on with it,’ she said, backing away before he decided to open his Deleted Items folder and flash her private thoughts onto the screen and … she’d just die of embarrassment. No, no, she reminded her stunned self, she’d deleted it permanently. She was off the hook—

‘What’s this?’ He stilled, leaning closer to the screen, blocking Sophie’s view and her heart jumped into her mouth again. ‘This is your work, I take it?’ He turned slowly towards her. His eyes seemed darker and there was a gleam there that she was sure hadn’t been there before.

She found herself backing away from his powerful gaze as if pushed by some physical force. Her hands alternately fluttered and clenched in front of her. ‘I can … explain …’

‘No need.’ He leaned back in his chair, a slow smile touching his lips. ‘I left it with Pam but I see you’ve finished it. Everything looks to be in order, you can email it today.’

The Lygon report. A sigh escaped her lips, instantly bitten off when she caught him still watching her, eyes darker than she’d thought. She straightened. ‘I’ll get right on it.’

‘This afternoon will be soon enough.’ He glanced back at the screen, then said, ‘Nothing else here that can’t wait.’

He rose and she almost sagged with relief. Her legs were like jelly and she really, really wanted to escape to her desk and regroup.

But before she could propel herself forward—rather, backward and away—he opened his briefcase, pulled out a few files. ‘Since you’re here and obviously enthusiastic to get on with the day, I’d like you to come with me.’

‘Me?’ To Coolangatta? With him? Her breath caught. ‘But …’

He looked up sharply. ‘Is that a problem?’

Uh oh. A temporary PA’s golden rule: do not irritate the boss no matter how short your stay is. ‘No. Not at all. Absolutely.’ She shook her head, then nodded. Her head spun.

‘Good.’ His eyes pinned hers so directly, so intensely, she felt as if she were being probed, naked, with twin lasers.

She flicked at her collar, lifted her blouse away from her skin, sticky now despite her morning shower, and flashed him a smile. ‘I’ll leave a note for Mimi.’

‘Fine.’ He blinked, then seemed to shake his head, the movement abrupt, and frowned at his watch. ‘Better make that call from the car on the way.’ He handed Sophie the files without looking at her. ‘These need mailing this afternoon.’ His voice was clipped as he snapped his case shut. ‘Bring Pam’s laptop, you can familiarise yourself with the project before we get there. Coffee—Forget it, we don’t have time.’

‘No worries.’ This was more like the Jared Sanderson Pam had talked about. Complained about. Adjusting the files in her arms, she swung around to carry them to her desk. ‘I’ll meet you downstairs in two minutes …’

But he was already out of the door, leaving that spicy fragrance in his wake.

Jared tossed his briefcase and suit jacket onto the back seat of his new pride and joy, his BMW hard-topped convertible, and blew out a strained breath. Took off his cufflinks, slid them into his trouser pocket and rolled his sleeves up—something he never did before meeting a new client. He was a professional and he dressed like one. Every day. He liked routine, the predictability of it.

There was nothing routine about this morning.

Nor was Sophie Buchanan, dream-weaver, what he’d expected. Unlike the brazen and over-endowed vision he’d imagined, she was tall, slim and understated. She wasn’t his usual blonde; her hair was the colour of a mid-winter’s night. Smooth and sleek and shiny.

He hadn’t missed her fragrance on the air when she’d all but leapt off his chair. Not the expensive perfume most women he knew wore, but something light and sparkly, like fresh fruit and summer.

And all he’d been able to see when they’d made eye contact was the disturbing image of her sprawled over his bed wearing nothing but a blackberry-stained smile and dangling a sliver of snakeskin from one finger. It had taken considerable restraint not to yank her against him and find out if the reality was as good as the fantasy she’d described.

She’d deleted the email.

He’d seen the nerves, read the body language and was confident it had been a genuine mistake, not some scheme she’d devised to get his attention.

The devil of it was it had got his attention, and in a big way. Just looking at her and knowing what she’d been dreaming had given him a hard-on and he was still feeling its effects. Not a professional image. And knowing all those intimate details, how was he going to deal with having her right outside his office all day?

So why had he asked her to accompany him to Coolangatta? He couldn’t resist the smile. Maybe because she was here already and his PA usually accompanied him? The smile teased his lips into a full-on grin. Maybe he wasn’t going to change his routine just because Pam was unavailable?

And maybe he wanted to find out more about Sophie Buchanan. Like why this woman had dreamed sexy dreams about him when they hadn’t even met. The trick would be not mixing business and pleasure.

She exited the building, sunshine sparking off her ebony hair as she searched his car out. Unlike her fantasy, her dress code was wishy-washy conservative, but a gust of wind blew the fabric of her blouse against her body, outlining a low-cut bra and subtle yet teasing curves. He leaned across the seat and shoved open the passenger door, slid on his sunglasses and fiddled with his GPS while he waited—hardly courteous, but it was preferable to the alternative of letting her see how she’d affected him.

How her creative writing had affected him.

So he wouldn’t let the way he’d noticed her hips undulate provocatively as she crossed the car park—not to mention those long tanned legs beneath her fitted skirt—distract his thoughts from the upcoming meeting.

She dropped into the passenger seat as if those spectacular legs were about to give out and he grinned to himself. Dying to know if he knew, wasn’t she? But she wasn’t asking, and he wasn’t telling.

‘Been temping long?’ he asked as he swung out of the car park.

‘A few years. But not for much longer.’ He noted she wasted no time opening the laptop.

‘Why’s that?’

She tapped keys, her attention riveted to the screen. ‘I’m going to the UK next month.’

‘Oh? Working or sightseeing?’

‘Both, I hope.’

‘Anything lined up there?’

‘Work-wise, not yet. I’ll take it as it comes.’

They were cruising south along the Gold Coast Highway, negotiating the morning peak-hour traffic, and he wondered for a moment how it would feel to take off across the globe with no responsibilities and only oneself to think about.

‘We’ll be meeting with the building’s owner and the architect to discuss the project brief,’ he informed her. ‘You’ll find the info in the file labelled CoolCm20. Familiarise yourself with it and be prepared to add to it later.’

They followed the bitumen past Burleigh Heads and crossed the bridge where a glimpse of turquoise water met white sand lined with Norfolk pines. Salty air with a whiff of motor fumes blew through the open window, but at this time of day he preferred the fresh morning breeze to air conditioning.

‘So your company offers clients advice on refurbishment projects,’ she said, looking up from the file a short time later.

He nodded, checking his rear-view mirror before changing lanes. ‘Not only advice. We prepare a complete project brief. Should he or she wish to proceed, we initiate contracts and manage the project to completion.’ He glanced her way. ‘So you and Pam know each other?’

She nodded. ‘We go back a long way. As a matter of fact, we’re still neighbours in the same apartment complex.’

‘You’re from Newcastle too, then.’

‘Yes. I moved up here four years ago.’

‘With family?’

She shook her head and looked away towards the side window.

‘Boyfriend? Partner?’ he asked, glancing her way again when she didn’t elaborate. He saw her shoulders tense, her jaw tighten.

‘I needed a change of scenery,’ was all she said.

Obviously it wasn’t only the scenery she’d wanted to change. Someone had hurt her. None of his business, Jared told himself. He didn’t need to know her life history. He was only interested in the Sophie who was sitting beside him right now. The one who smelled as fresh as the morning and dreamed about him.

He couldn’t help the smile that threatened to give him away every time he thought about it. The idea of this quietly professional woman playing out those erotic fantasies with him had grasped him firmly between his thighs and wasn’t about to let go.

Unless he did something about it …

* * *

Change of scenery. If only it had been that simple. Sophie refocused her gaze on the safety of the computer screen. How could she have stayed in Newcastle knowing she might bump into Glen and his new lover—his new pregnant lover? Which was inevitable given their mutual friends and working environments. She hadn’t wanted their pitying glances and platitudes so she’d moved to the Gold Coast and taken a business course.

But recurring childhood nightmares had continued to hound her, screwing with her life, making her ill until she’d had no alternative but to seek professional help. Her counsellor had suggested a dream diary and they’d used it to work through her emotional issues. Her abused childhood, her failure as a woman. Even the fact that she’d sought help was still, to her, a failure.

She’d come a long way since arriving in Surfers but the past still haunted her at the oddest times. A word tossed out and she was back in her childhood purgatory, her disastrous marriage. Nightmares were few and far between these days but she still recorded her dreams. A security thing, she supposed.

At least Jared had taken the hint and not pursued further conversation as the car sped south. It gave her a moment to shake off the bad. The bad was gone, over, done, she reminded herself. As Roma had told her at her final session, good times ahead. And that was what it was all about, right? Refocusing on the present, Sophie resumed her attention to the upcoming meeting.

She reread the document on the screen for the umpteenth time. She couldn’t remember a darn word. It was as if her mind had shut out everything except her awareness of the man beside her. Right now his forearm relaxed on the steering wheel. Suntanned, sprinkled with dark hair and sporting an expensive-looking watch, ropes of sinew shifting as he swung out from behind a truck and changed lanes.

She jerked her eyes back to the screen. This infatuation, or whatever it was, was not going to get her paid at the end of the day. She reminded herself he was unavailable. Involved with someone else. Focused on family and his high-flying career. And most important: she wasn’t interested in getting involved.

It should have been easy to push it aside and if it hadn’t been for that stupid dream this whole attraction thing never would have happened. Would it?

‘No special guy, then?’

The question asked in that deep voice jerked her out of her self-talk and put her immediately on the defensive. She focused her gaze on the road ahead. ‘I don’t see how having a man in my life is relevant to my ability to do my job.’

He was silent for a beat, as if considering her snarky response. Then he said, ‘I generally find women in steady relationships make for more stable employees.’

‘Only women?’ How sexist was that? But she didn’t say it. She’d done enough damage in the past twelve hours. She just wanted to do her job with a minimum of fuss and attention and get paid at the end of the day. Then she never had to see him again.

‘Rest assured, I have a strong and committed work ethic, Mr Sanderson—Jared. And while we’re on the topic, how about women in no relationship?’

And why the heck had she said that? Was her subconscious trying to get her into trouble?

With smooth efficiency, he overtook a shiny red Porsche. ‘Which category do you fall into?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘It might.’

A sharp excitement stabbed through her, followed closely by one of anger. She forgot her decision not to look at him. His profile—his very strong, very masculine profile—betrayed no clue as to what he was thinking. ‘What do you mean “it might”?’

What about Melissa? Did he think she’d forgotten? Not noticed? No matter how gorgeous his looks, no matter what she’d fantasised, she did not play the other woman. She knew how it felt to be left for someone else.

‘I need to know whether you’re expected home this evening,’ he continued as they neared their destination. ‘I missed work yesterday, which means we’ll need to work late tonight to catch up.’

‘Oh.’ The barely audible word escaped her lips as the implication sank in. Just him and her alone in his office. To catch up on work. How ridiculously foolish and pathetic she was, to have assumed he’d had something more on his mind.

‘No one’s expecting me. I live alone.’ She hoped her face wasn’t as pink as it felt. Still, it wouldn’t have mattered since he didn’t even glance her way.

‘You don’t have other plans, I hope.’

‘No.’ And from his tone she rather gathered that she’d have had to cancel if she had. Pam had warned her the man was work-driven and focused and expected the same of his staff.

‘Which reminds me.’ He indicated his phone on the console between them while he adjusted his earpiece. ‘Get Melissa for me, please. She’s on speed dial.’

‘Melissa.’ Her stomach dipped, clenched, but she did as he requested, then turned away and watched the scenery slip by. High-rise apartments and businesses interspersed with strips of green and pandanus trees and now glimpses of blue sea. She wouldn’t allow herself to feel uncomfortable.

‘Lissa, hi, it’s me. I won’t be home for tea, I’m working back.’ Brisk and to the point. Pause. ‘I don’t have time to talk about that now, Liss. I have someone with me.’ He lifted his sunglasses to rub the bridge of his nose. ‘Later. And tell Cryssie I’ll call by the hospital tomorrow for sure. Yeah. Bye.’

Sophie couldn’t pretend she hadn’t heard the conversation. The way that smooth tone had roughened with something that sounded close to exasperation.

‘My sister,’ he muttered.

A tiny shiver danced down her spine and she remained motionless a moment, lips pressed together to stop the smile threatening at the corners of her mouth and trying not to feel ridiculously … what? Pleased? Excited? Delighted?

She shouldn’t be feeling any of those things.

Leather creaked as he shifted in his seat. She saw the movement from the corner of her eye, saw him glance at her as he exhaled an impatient breath through his nostrils. ‘I fail to see the humour. Ever tried reasoning with a seventeen-year-old girl?’

Her smile bubbled over into a laugh and she glanced his way. Clenched jaw. Hands a little tight on the steering wheel. Speedo a little high as they cruised along the esplanade and into Coolangatta. ‘Can’t say I have. But I’ve been one, so I can tell you it does get better.’

He made some non-committal noise as he pulled to a stop outside a four-storey apartment block and switched off the ignition. ‘It can be a challenge at times.’

He spoke as if he were Melissa’s parent rather than her brother. Or maybe it was just that brothers were never meant to get along with their sisters. Yet she knew that wasn’t true. The dysfunctional household she’d been brought up in had tainted and distorted her perception of family life and love.

‘Do you have siblings?’ His voice interrupted her thoughts.

‘A brother. In Melbourne.’

Somewhat surprised by her instant switch from bright and chirpy to gloom and doom, Jared reached for his jacket on the back seat. ‘You’re not close?’

She followed his lead, gathering her bag and laptop. ‘I haven’t seen him in years, so no.’ She peered through the windscreen at the nondescript grey building behind a cyclone fence. ‘This is the place?’

‘Yep.’

Jared had been itching to get another good look at her since they’d left Surfers but the traffic had been snarly and required his full attention. Now he took a moment. The brandy-coloured eyes had lost that desperation he’d seen in his office and he doubted the hint of blush on her high wide cheekbones was make-up—more likely her natural colour. And her lips … they were something else. Full, luscious-looking and caramel glossed … they promised to taste as sweet.

Damn it, not now.

He reminded himself this wasn’t a date, ordered his unruly body to cooperate and forced his attention to the building in front of them while he rolled down his sleeves. ‘You have to think potential, Sophie.’

He’d made his fortune by seeing possibilities and making them happen. He’d been a millionaire at twenty-seven because he dared to dream and didn’t let others tell him it wasn’t possible.

‘I’m afraid I’m not very imaginative.’

His gaze swung back to her just as she turned to him with a stunned tell-me-I-didn’t-say-that expression and their gazes locked and for a beat out of time the spectre of that dream fantasy smouldered in the tiny space between them. ‘I don’t believe that for a moment.’

‘Believe it,’ she muttered, and, pushing out of the car, she started walking.

He shrugged into his jacket, grabbed his briefcase from the back seat and caught up with her along the path. Without further comment she accompanied him to the main door where they met the owner, Sam Trent, and Ben Harbison, an architect who’d worked with Jared on several projects. After a briefing in Sam’s office, they spent half an hour inspecting the premises while Sophie took notes. For the remainder of the meeting, she worked unobtrusively at one end of the table, the only sound the quiet click of her keyboard.

Unobtrusive? For the second time in as many minutes Jared looked up from the plans in front of him, his gaze unerringly finding Sophie. Focused on her task, she wasn’t giving him a second’s glance.

How did she manage cool concentration when he couldn’t? Her fast, efficient fingers with their clear-varnished nails were the cause of the clicking and Jared couldn’t stop thinking about them being fast and efficient in other ways, as she’d described in her dream. And whenever the breeze wafted through the open window, it wasn’t the sea air but her fragrance that floated to his nostrils.

The meeting wrapped up at nine-fifteen. He was glad his ten o’clock appointment didn’t require his PA. And his eleven-fifteen would keep him busy until lunch. Only the afternoon to get through, he thought, watching the little hollows behind her knees as she bent over to retrieve her bag from the floor.

Swinging his gaze away, he focused on Sam’s conversation while he stuffed a couple of files into his briefcase. Reminded himself again that he didn’t get involved with employees.

However, a couple of hours of working back this evening would clear yesterday’s clutter and when the work was finished Sophie’s two-day fill-in for Pam would be over. She would no longer be in his employ…




CHAPTER THREE


‘YOUR ten o’clock cancelled,’ Sophie informed Jared as they walked to the car.

A hunger fist clenched around her stomach. She hadn’t had time for breakfast. And she’d refused Sam’s offer for refreshment because she hadn’t been sure she’d keep it down she was so uptight, and had stuck to her bottled water. ‘He’ll ring back this afternoon and reschedule.’

Jared aimed the remote at the car and the alarm blipped. ‘In that case, I’d like to make another stop before we head back.’

She’d been hoping for some time and space back at the office. Alone at her desk. She didn’t want to be anywhere near him, inhaling his scent, listening to his voice and wondering. This on-the-edge-of-the-seat feeling that Jared might have read her diary was killing her. In a way it was almost worse than knowing. At least if she knew, she could make some attempt to deal with it. But she wasn’t going to risk asking.

It was a beautiful day with the sky’s blue dome reflecting on the sea. Ridges of surf scrolled along the sand, already dotted with beach-goers. Right now Sophie wished she were one of them. No boss to stress over, just a day of relaxation stretched out to enjoy. Or better still, to be one of the gulls wheeling high and low over the ocean.

As she watched Jared open the boot she reminded herself she’d be as free as those gulls in just under four weeks. He dropped his gear in, motioned her to do the same with Pam’s laptop. He shrugged out of his jacket once more, then to her surprise he yanked off his tie and tossed it in the boot with the rest of his stuff, and said, ‘What do you say to fish and chips?’

Now? What was wrong with muesli and fruit and a nice hot coffee? ‘It’s only nine-twenty—’

‘First off, do you like fish and chips? And I’m not talking the fast-food skinny-mini deals but the old-fashioned crisp on the outside, soft in the middle and wrapped in butcher paper kind.’

‘I do, but—’

‘So forget the office—and the boss—for an hour and take a break. I know a little seafood shop here that’s open early. They do take-away cappuccino too, if you need your caffeine fix.’

Forget the office? Take a break? She’d barely done an hour’s work. Forgetting the boss wasn’t going to happen and fish and chips at nine-thirty on a weekday?

Was this happy-looking, suddenly smiling man the same man Pam said was all work and no play? There had to be a catch.

‘O-k-ay.’ She smiled back, blinded by that knee-weakening crease. It really should be registered as a deadly weapon.

One block back from the esplanade and a few moments’ walk brought them to a row of shops. They passed a bakery and its rich scent of coffee and fresh bread. Sophie slowed her steps, all but drooling at the window selection, but then Jared laid a casual hand on her shoulder.

She jumped at the startling contact as he steered her past the shop with barely there persuasion. It seemed an easy relaxed gesture, except that she was super aware of the slight pressure of his fingers on her collarbone, like a low-grade current tickling her flesh. Aware also of the sun-warmed fragrances of clean cotton and masculine skin surrounding her.

As if he knew she’d been about to forgo chips in ten minutes in favour of a sticky bun right now, he dipped his head and said, ‘It’ll be worth the wait.’ His voice was lazy and layered with all the richness of the Black Forest gateau she’d just salivated over.

‘Is that a promise?’ She heard her own voice echo that same tone and her suddenly dry tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth. Her heart rate accelerated as she turned and looked up at him. They were talking food, weren’t they?

His expression revealed nothing … but had his eyes gone darker? ‘You can tell me afterwards.’

‘Right.’ His eyes were darker. And up close she noticed the distinctive olive green was ringed with a fine rim of navy. She also noticed they’d stopped walking. He was still touching her and her flesh was still tingling.

She hitched her bag higher so that his hand slid away, and resumed walking, but he was close enough so that their arms bumped, a too-delicious friction of firm flesh, crisp shirt and masculine hair.

A moment later he slowed again, this time outside a bright shop called The Baby Tree with teddies spilling out of prams and the cutest little baby outfits suspended from colourful chains. ‘Come on. Help me choose something for my new niece. Thirty seconds. What do you think—a teddy or that fluffy red kangaroo?’

For one trembly moment of indecision Sophie stared at the pretty window and the pair of tiny overalls covered in roses with a matching sun-hat. The rainbow selection of lace booties. And yearned.

Then the familiar chill that accompanied such visions swirled through her heart and she shivered in the balmy air. She hadn’t set foot in a baby shop since—In a long time.

‘I’m not really a baby person.’ She spun away from the window and gazed at the shop across the street, but didn’t see it. ‘Don’t let me stop you, though.’ Without looking at him, she dredged up a smile from somewhere and pasted it on her lips, while groping in her bag for her sunglasses. Hoping she looked more careless and indifferent than she felt, she waved in the direction they’d been heading. ‘I’ll go ahead and order.’

She slid on the glasses, turned and walked. One foot in front of the other. Her smile dropped from her lips and she was conscious of the residual sweaty palms and heavy heartbeat. Of all the shops he could have chosen, he’d stopped at The Baby Tree.

It had caught her off guard. With most of her friends down the coast in Newcastle, over the past four years it had been easy to avoid the baby trap. Pam was seriously single and Sophie’s focus was her upcoming overseas trip. Not making babies and playing happy families.

Those things hadn’t worked for her.

She’d be ready next time he pulled that trick. Next time? She coughed out a half-laugh. Hardly. After today she wouldn’t have to see Jared Sanderson again. She kept her eyes peeled for the fish shop, but she hadn’t gone farther than a couple of metres along the footpath when he caught up.

He fell into step beside her. ‘Hey.’

His tone was bland and she couldn’t decide if he was annoyed or concerned. Please, God, anything but concern. She could deal with annoyance, indifference, even anger, but concern. Concern could weaken her resistance, leaving her vulnerable. Again. She refused to allow anyone too close. Giving your love, your trust, yourself to someone else only brought heartbreak. She’d learned that lesson too.

Jared must have caught the vibes; he’d put at least an arm span between them and guilt pierced the self-preservation she normally surrounded herself with. ‘I really don’t mind. She’s your sister … If you want to—’

‘No big deal, I’ll do it later. We’re here.’ He stopped at the next wide glass door and pushed it open, the air-conditioned swirl mingling with the aroma of hot fat.

‘Rico. Buongiorno.’

‘Buongiorno.’ The rotund swarthy man beaming at Jared as if he was some long-lost friend looked to be in his late forties. He also looked as if he’d been dining on his own menu for a good many of those years. ‘Didn’t expect to see you down this way today.’

‘Had a spare hour.’

‘And you haven’t come alone.’ He shone his beam on Sophie.

‘Rico, meet Sophie. Sophie, Rico. A serve of your best chips to go, please, my friend. And a cappuccino for my hard-working colleague here.’

‘Very happy to make your acquaintance, Sophie.’ Rico winked at her as he scooped chips into a wire basket, lowered it into the fryer. ‘If this man doesn’t treat you right, I have a brother. Has his own seafood restaurant in Broadbeach. He’s single and better looking.’

Sophie shoved her sunglasses on top of her head. She glanced at Jared, caught him looking at her and didn’t quite smother her grin. ‘I’ll keep it in mind.’

‘Get Jared to take you there for dinner one night.’

She jerked her gaze back to Rico. ‘Oh … no. I’m … we’re not … dating.’

His thick black brows rose, then a look of pure devilment danced in his dark eyes. ‘Why not?’

‘I’m just temping at Jared’s office for the day.’ Why had she said the D word, for heaven’s sake? Rico had no doubt meant a business dinner. But it had just burst out. and, oh, she wished the floor would open up and swallow her.

‘Don’t listen to him, Sophie,’ Jared said, his voice tinged with amusement, and to Rico, ‘Did you go over those figures with Enzo yet?’

And just what had Jared meant by that look he’d given Rico? To her relief, he seemed to have forgotten she was there already. To keep from feeling like a spare part and to give them some privacy since they were discussing business, she crossed to one of the little round tables by the window, sat down and flicked through a well-thumbed women’s magazine.

Anything to keep from looking at him. Or admiring the cut to the trousers that showcased long legs and firm butt and imagining … No. Frowning, she forced herself to refocus on the latest celebrity break-up.

Her eyes remained on the page but her mind worked as the guys talked. The familiarity and bond between the two was obvious. Jared hadn’t taken an hour out of his day to ‘forget about the office’ and entertain her. He’d used the opportunity to catch up with Rico and make it seem as if he were doing Sophie a favour at the same time. Very clever.

‘Bring your coffee,’ he said, dragging her out of her contemplation, ‘and let’s go see the beach.’

They took their white paper-wrapped package to the esplanade and sat on a bench overlooking the sand. The sea’s boom-dump vibrated through the soles of her feet. The gulls swooped in noisily from nowhere the moment Sophie unwrapped the shared snack. She took a chip, broke it open, popped a piece in her mouth. Then she threw the other half to the birds to watch them squawk and squabble while she sipped at her much anticipated frothy cappuccino.

‘You’re right, they’re yummy,’ she said, reaching for another while carefully avoiding Jared’s fingers. She hadn’t eaten chips this good since she couldn’t remember when.

‘Haven’t done this in a while,’ Jared said, popping the top on his can of soda.

‘Probably just as well. Salt, fat, calories. Too much of a good thing …’

Sophie watched, mesmerised as he downed his cola in deep slow swallows that made his Adam’s apple bob amazingly. He lifted his lips from the can a moment and smiled, eyes twinkling. ‘You can never have too much of a good thing, Sophie.’

Oh, the way he said that, all luscious and low as if he was talking about sex. And drawing her attention to his lips, wet with the cola … and they’d be cool and sweet.

Not going there.

She plucked another fat, fragrant chip, slid it between her lips and, closing her eyes, savoured every drop of excess. If she couldn’t have sex, at least she could eat. ‘So …’ Licking the salt from her fingers, she opened her eyes once more to find him still watching her. More precisely, watching her mouth. ‘That’s your opinion and you’re sticking to it.’

‘A good thing is only a good thing for as long as you enjoy it.’

Glen had lived by that code too, Sophie remembered. She drained her coffee to mask the sudden bitterness in her mouth. ‘Then what? You discard it for another passing fancy?’

‘If it’s not bringing you pleasure, then yeah.’

Her fingers tightened around the polystyrene cup. ‘Sounds totally self-absorbed to me.’

He laughed. ‘Probably. And why not? So long as it’s not hurting anyone else.’

‘Exactly.’ She relented. Okay, maybe he didn’t include relationships in that particular philosophy. It seemed he genuinely cared about people. Rico. His sisters. Even Pam. He was one of the good guys after all. And mega rich, mega gorgeous, mega motivated.

She noticed his gaze had turned speculative and probing. Something glimmered in the green depths and her heart skipped a beat. Did he read minds as well? Looking away, she took aim and tossed her empty cup neatly into the trash can.

‘What about your favourites list? What can’t you have too much of, Sophie?’

You. Naked. Inside me.

Her skin warmed, prickled, and she swore every internal organ turned to mush. She felt like an over-ripe peach, ready to be plucked, split apart and plundered. Gloriously and within an inch of her life.

Liquid heat gathered between her thighs and she bit the inside of her lip. Had she just accused him of being self-absorbed? Behind her sunglasses she met his unshielded gaze and reminded herself of what she really wanted these days. ‘Wealth,’ she said, reaching for the bottled water in her bag. She sucked it down with a vengeance. ‘And independence.’

He looked surprised, as if he’d expected her to say something indulgent or female, like chocolate or shoes. A crease dug a groove between his brows. ‘Sounds a little sad and lonely.’

‘Why?’ Annoyed with his response, she tipped her bottle in his direction. ‘You don’t strike me as lonely. Or sad. You’ve obviously worked towards those same goals all your life, and by all accounts you’ve succeeded better than most.’ Which made him a hypocrite or sexist or both. ‘So don’t tell me you’re not happy with your success.’

‘That goes without saying and I assume you’re talking financial success. But mostly I’m happy because I don’t allow myself to think any other way. Doesn’t mean I don’t have my disappointments.’

Not knowing how to respond, she nodded as she reached for another chip. With his wealth and charisma, she’d not thought of Jared as a man to experience setbacks. Which was totally naïve of her. Everyone had setbacks. It was how one dealt with them.

He gave the impression that he was powerful enough to accomplish whatever he wanted, but she knew nothing of his background or what obstacles he’d overcome to get to where he was.

Before she could form a question around that, he said, ‘I take it family and kids figure somewhere in all that wealth and independence.’

A few years ago Sophie’s answer would have been an unequivocal yes. Despite the emotional trauma she’d experienced growing up in a family where booze and violence were the norm, she’d always believed it could be different for her. All those years of growing up with her collection of dolls and romantic ever afters, but now.

Reality check.

For the second time in less than an hour a reminder that her female body had let her down in the baby-making department. Which was hardly relevant since she had no intention of getting serious with a man, ever again. Still, it was failure and she chugged on her water bottle to take a moment to compose herself.

She pushed herself up from the bench, grateful for her sunglasses shield. ‘Not me.’ She laughed, turning seaward and throwing her hands wide. ‘Why tie yourself down with kids when you can travel the world? Do what you choose when you choose. Live life the way you want.’ She turned to him and nodded. ‘Yes, I’m completely and unashamedly selfish. I admit it.’

Shading his forehead with a hand, Jared studied her through eyes squinted against the beach’s glare. Hard to tell if she was being completely truthful because he couldn’t read her eyes behind her sunglasses. Thanks to her, he’d left his own damn sunglasses in the car. She’d thrown him off course last night with her dream, and twelve hours later nothing had changed.

‘Good for you,’ he said, crushing the empty chip wrapper and standing too. ‘I like an honest woman who’s not afraid to say what she means.’

Why not take her at her word? he decided. He had no reason not to. So she admitted she was selfish—didn’t matter to him in the great scheme of things. Besides, he had a feeling she wasn’t as self-absorbed as she let on. He picked up his empty cola can and headed for the bin. ‘It’s time to make a move.’

* * *

At least she was upfront about what she wanted, he mused as they drove back to Surfers. Rico was right—Sophie was a beautiful woman. And red hot to boot. He’d not had a woman in too long, which was why his skin felt as if it were on fire and he couldn’t for the life of him, get her out of his head. Beautiful. Single. Living in the moment.

Bianca had been the same, he remembered, with her wild sensual beauty and Bohemian lifestyle. God only knew why—when he thought about it with the wisdom of five years more maturity—but he’d fancied himself in love and had asked her to marry him.

But Bianca had refused to accept twelve-year-old Melissa as part of the deal. Something Jared didn’t compromise on was Melissa’s well-being, so it had been bye-bye Bianca.

After he’d picked up the pieces of his heart and fitted them back together, he’d realised he and Bianca would never have made it work in the long term.

But circumstances were different now. Melissa was more or less independent even if she did still live at home. So … if he and Sophie got together. From the outset he knew Sophie wasn’t going to be long term. She was going overseas, so there was no possibility of anything serious developing between them.

Not that he could ever get serious with a happy wanderer who didn’t like kids. He wasn’t looking for marriage right now, but when he settled down he wanted a woman who held the same values he did. A lifetime commitment to family. Sharing, trust. And children.

But that wasn’t now.

A few weeks with no-strings Sophie wouldn’t be a hardship. Wouldn’t be a hardship at all. He just had to seduce Sophie a little, tempt her with a taste of her own desires, her private fantasies. He ran a hand around the back of his neck, shifted on the seat as his blood pumped a little faster around his body. Then a smile touched his lips. Who knew her desires better than him? Who better than Jared to make those fantasies a reality?




CHAPTER FOUR


MEETINGS took up the rest of the morning. In the afternoon Jared escorted a millionaire businessman from Dubai and his entourage on a tour of inspection of a dozen complexes and resorts. Negotiations followed over a late lunch in one of Surfers Paradise’s top restaurants.

He’d left Sophie an overflowing outbox and several reports to edit, file, print, mail.

Jared would be the first to acknowledge that Pam was a brilliant PA. She knew her stuff, was ruthlessly efficient, indispensable, in fact, and he’d hate to lose her. But he had to admit that behind her desk she tended to merge into the background.

Not Sophie Buchanan.

On his return at five-thirty, before he reached his office he could smell that sparkling fresh fragrance that had been spinning inside his head all day, making him think inappropriate thoughts. Taking his focus away from work.

Instead of concentrating on ways to convince Najeeb Assad that transforming an aging condominium building into a slice of paradise was a sound business decision, Jared had been visualising Sophie astride him on his office chair, her fragrant skin glowing with a sheen of sweat while she rode him hard and fast.

To Jared’s relief, Mr Assad had concurred with his suggestions for renovation, but it could easily have gone the other way—and that concerned him. Jared had never allowed himself or his work to be sidetracked by a woman before.

It reinforced his belief that it was an idiot boss who got personally involved with his employees. So he afforded Sophie only a brief acknowledgement on his way through late in the afternoon, issuing a practical, ‘Can I see you in my office with those reports you worked on yesterday in thirty minutes, please?’

Blowing out a breath, he dropped into his chair. With Pam due back tomorrow, he needed to go over yesterday’s work with Sophie. But in a couple of hours he could loosen up and enjoy getting to know her better. On a more personal level.

Meanwhile he pulled out this afternoon’s paperwork, skimmed it before setting it aside and working through the day’s emails. From his position he couldn’t see her beyond his door, but he could hear her moving around, the sounds of her desk drawer opening, closing.

Five minutes before she was due, the quick rat-a-tat had him half rising as he looked up from his screen. The smile already on his lips stalled …’ Lissa. Hi. I wasn’t expecting you.’

Her brows rose. ‘Clearly. You look stunned. Rabbit-caught-in-headlights stunned. So who were you expecting?’ Not anticipating an answer, she crossed the room, set a bag of Chinese takeout in front of him. ‘I was on my way home and remembered you said you were working late. Extra Special Fried Rice from the Lotus Pearl. See, I do care about you.’

Its spicy aroma steamed through the plastic carry bag. He wondered if he could extend it to two. ‘Thanks, Liss, that’s very thoughtful of you and I appreciate it, but I’m not working alone tonight.’

‘Didn’t you say Pam was off sick? Ah-h-h …’ He’d never seen that knowing, womanly expression on his baby sister’s face and it threw him for a loop. ‘You mean that attractive long-legged brunette in the staffroom lounge making café lattes—for two.’ Her grin widened—irritatingly so. That kind of working late.’

‘No, Liss.’ Resisting the temptation to rub the back of his neck, he pushed out of his seat and grabbed a folder on his bookshelf. ‘That’s not it.’

‘I believe you.’ She pressed her lips together but the sparkle of humour in her eyes betrayed her. Rising up on tiptoe, she pecked his cheek and murmured, ‘Don’t work too hard. Or too late.’

Sophie stopped dead outside Jared’s door, a café latte in each hand. The sight of the petite but gorgeous Titian-haired female kissing his jaw had her stomach knotting in a strange way. So his almost-flirty conversation this morning had been her imagination. The imagination she’d told him she didn’t have.

Her imagination was working just fine now.

As she watched the redhead turn towards the door, Sophie’s inner turmoil grew. The girl must be at least a decade younger than him.

And Sophie could cast stones? Hadn’t Sophie been years younger than Glen? So young, too young. Too young to know the dangers of falling for the wrong type of man. All she’d wanted was an escape, to feel safe, to belong with someone. To matter. Instead, she’d jumped from one disaster into another.

Before Sophie could analyse her way out of the instant overreaction, the girl caught sight of her and smiled. ‘Hi.’ Her aquamarine eyes sparked with feminine curiosity and friendly interest and Sophie couldn’t help but like her even though her stomach was tied in double knots.

‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll come back.’

Jared looked up, bright eyes finding hers. ‘No, it’s okay, come in. Melissa, this is Sophie.’

Sophie propelled herself towards Jared’s desk with a breathy kind of, ‘Hi.’

He leaned across and rescued the listing lattes from her stiff fingers. ‘Liss brought some fried rice by.’

‘That was kind.’ Ridiculously relieved for the second time today, Sophie smiled back, her gaze darting between the two but finding no resemblance. Charm and charisma obviously ran in the family, however. ‘Pleased to meet you, Melissa.’

‘Likewise.’ Her voice practically bounced with enthusiasm as she stepped back. ‘I’ll leave you two to get on with whatever.’ With a glance at her brother, she swung her bag onto her shoulder, then smiled at Sophie on her way out. ‘Get Jared to bring you over some time.’

‘Ah … hmm. Bye for now.’

Was there some sort of conspiracy going on? She could have reiterated that she was temping for the day, that they weren’t dating, but she’d been there, said that, this morning. Now hot, flustered and empty-handed, she made an abrupt about-turn as Melissa passed, murmuring, ‘I’ll just get those reports …’

When she reached her desk, she pressed both palms on its smooth cool surface and took a deep calming breath. Closed her eyes a moment and listened to the muted office sounds as the few staff still remaining closed down computers or chatted outside the elevator bank.

Why was everyone so interested in Jared’s social life? More incredible and disturbing were suggestions that she be involved. The fact that he shared a place with his sister surprised her. Surely a man like him would have his own apartment and want to do his own no-doubt-frequent ‘entertaining’ without a kid sister around, even if said sister was practically an adult?

Sophie didn’t care what Pam said, a man with that much sex appeal must have women falling over themselves to get his attention. Pam had meant the workplace, where he was by all accounts legendary for his strict workplace ethics.




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