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Play Thing
Nicola Marsh
She's been playing it safe…But now it's time for a new game plan!Prim and proper Charlotte Baxter lets her naughty side run wild when she meets a hot stranger one night. She’s riding on a high—until she discovers the mystery man is also her demanding new boss! With her career her top priority, an affair with Alex Bronson is forbidden…so why is she ready to risk it all for another scorching encounter?


She’s been playing it safe...
But it’s time for a new game plan!
Prim and proper Charlotte Baxter lets her naughty side run wild when she meets a hot stranger one night. She’s riding a high—until she discovers the mystery man is also her demanding new boss! With her career her top priority, an affair with Alex Bronson is forbidden...so why is she ready to risk it all for another scorching encounter?
“DARE is Harlequin’s hottest line yet. Every book should come with a free fan. I dare you to try them!”
—Tiffany Reisz, international bestselling author
NICOLA MARSH is a USA TODAY bestselling and multi-award-winning author who loves nothing better than losing herself in a story. A physiotherapist in a previous life, she now divides her time between raising two dashing heroes, whipping up delish meals, cheering on her footy team and writing—her dream job. And she chats on social media. A lot. Come say hi! Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/nicolamarshauthor/), Twitter (https://twitter.com/NicolaMarsh), Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/NicolaMarshAuthor)—she’s there! Also find her at nicolamarsh.com (http://nicolamarsh.com).
If you liked Play Thing why not try
Look at Me by Cara Lockwood
King’s Price by Jackie Ashenden
Unleashed by Caitlin Crews
Also by Nicola Marsh (#u6982bd65-25ed-5fe4-a87d-3cbee9cbe4a2)
Hot Sydney Nights
Sweet Thing
Wild Thing
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
Play Thing
Nicola Marsh


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07141-3
PLAY THING
© 2018 Nicola Marsh
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For the strong, empowered women who embody the heroines I like to create.
Know what you want and strive to get it. Be bold. Be courageous. Be true to yourself.
Contents
Cover (#ud47f10a1-4747-5f89-9e87-1853e525a261)
Back Cover Text (#uf597fb6b-4731-506c-9cd7-855216133de6)
About the Author (#ucc69b933-3392-5211-ba51-b17c0ce32491)
Booklist (#u027a22dd-49d3-5969-93d7-70a78bce1330)
Title Page (#uc71bd728-c6f4-5d8b-a0a8-05a700e739b4)
Copyright (#u4aec0d13-8227-5f31-9fe9-6392d7bfd1de)
Dedication (#uc88c5fa0-6ffa-53cb-84d3-a4d0c7a30c76)
CHAPTER ONE (#ub0fb7d32-7394-57c2-99df-02ecccb1a7b3)
CHAPTER TWO (#u6f470d42-a223-5f50-ad48-edbc4b711b99)
CHAPTER THREE (#u5dba53fe-3da9-5fa1-9807-f15201314a01)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u398bd71d-4144-5b10-b7e6-ef1104924736)
CHAPTER FIVE (#ua0b27b66-24f8-52d7-9772-b3c79a3b0d25)
CHAPTER SIX (#u93f36ebb-e6d2-5ed5-aab4-330650cff882)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#u2cfab003-057d-5748-aa43-ca794cefe9ca)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#uf87e7ebe-6d33-5748-88f6-56522b010113)
CHAPTER NINE (#udce2293c-505f-5ef8-8163-8f5f0f1131af)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#u6982bd65-25ed-5fe4-a87d-3cbee9cbe4a2)
CHARLOTTE WAITED UNTIL the boss from hell hung up before slamming down the phone and sticking out her tongue. Childish, but it made her feel good.
She glared at the phone, wishing it would disintegrate so she wouldn’t have to talk to him again. Yeah, like that would help. She also had an inbox full of emails from Mr Alexander Bronson, asshole extraordinaire.
The guy was demanding, arrogant and clearly had been put on this earth to make her life a misery.
As if to emphasise the point, an email pinged into her inbox with a gut-churning subject line: One last thing.
Sighing, she opened the email. And stopped breathing.
Forgot to mention, Charlie, I’ll be arriving at the Sydney office tomorrow to follow up on my ideas to reconfigure staff. I look forward to meeting you then.
He didn’t sign off. He didn’t need to. Superior beings from other planets were above mere mortals.
Alexander Bronson, here, in the flesh, tomorrow. Torturing her. Tormenting her. Teasing her.
Charlie. No one ever called her that. She hated it. She’d told him so. Which ensured he never called her anything else. No Miss Baxter for him. Uh-uh. The CEO of countless accountancy firms around Australia, the wunderkind who took ailing companies and turned them around, had an informality about him that won friends and influenced lowly accountants like her.
The kicker was, her boss might be demanding and expect perfection, yet she couldn’t help but admire his work ethos. She respected him for it, she identified with hard work. It was all she knew in her lacklustre life. Which made it all the more annoying that a small part of her looked forward to their daily phone calls and his infernal teasing.
Could she be any more pathetic? The highlight of her day was talking to her cocky boss who seemed to make it his life’s work to tease some kind of response out of her.
Her cell rang and she glanced at the screen, dithering about whether to take the call. She adored her Aunt Dee but she couldn’t cope with any outlandish requests today. She had to prepare for her imminent meeting with the charming Mr Bronson tomorrow.
Mentally chastising her goody-two-shoes conscience, she picked up the cell and stabbed at the answer button.
‘Hey, Aunt Dee, I’m at work so can’t talk long—’
‘Dear girl, I know you’re at work.’ Her aunt sounded breathless, like she’d jogged up a flight of stairs. Unlikely, considering Dee equated exercise with the devil’s work. ‘But I need your help and it’s urgent.’
Charlotte instantly felt guilty that she’d contemplated ignoring her aunt. Dee had raised her when her flaky parents couldn’t be bothered, preferring to travel the world in search of the next village in dire need of education. Dee rarely asked for favours so the fact she needed help meant this could be serious.
‘Sure, whatever you need. Is everything okay?’
Dee inhaled a loud breath. ‘Not really. My friend Queenie has had a nasty fall and broken her hip. She’s alone, with no one to care for her animals, so I need to drive up to Byron Bay now. But the owner of the building where I keep stock for my business is coming to inspect it later today and I need to vacate the lease space.’
Her heart sank. As if this day couldn’t get any worse. Sorting through her aunt’s questionable ‘stock’ for her kinky online business wasn’t one of her favourite activities on the planet. Aunt Dee had enlisted her help on more than one occasion to stuff envelopes for orders and Charlotte blushed just thinking about some of the apparatus people used in their sex lives.
‘You need me to pack everything up and store it at home?’
Dee sighed in relief. ‘Could you, sweetie? It would mean I could be at Queenie’s today rather than tomorrow and she really needs me.’
Charlotte’s inner child wanted to say ‘I need you’ but that was selfish and untrue. She’d learned from an early age to depend on no one but herself. She valued her independence, wore it like a badge of honour. Except that lately, her closest friends Abby and Mak had found great guys, leaving her to ponder whether being alone was something she cherished because she could or because she had to.
Shaking off her melancholy, she said, ‘Leave everything to me.’
‘You’re a lifesaver, Charlotte.’ Dee made smooching sounds. ‘Not sure how long I’ll be gone, maybe a few weeks. I’ll let you know.’
‘Okay—’ but Dee had already hung up, leaving Charlotte to face the inevitable.
An afternoon of packing up vibrators, nipple clamps and edible underwear.
Oh, goody.

CHAPTER TWO (#u6982bd65-25ed-5fe4-a87d-3cbee9cbe4a2)
ALEXANDER BRONSON HADN’T been back in Sydney for a year and as he traversed the Harbour Bridge he couldn’t help but glance at the Opera House on his left and remember the first time he’d been there. The first time he’d felt like he’d finally broken free of the shackles of his past.
Sydney had a unique vibe, far removed from his claustrophobic upbringing in outback New South Wales. It was the city where he’d studied, where he’d launched his career, where he’d ensured he’d never have to end up like his father.
His unofficial home, a boutique hotel in the Central Business District, beckoned. But first he had to check out his last property for the day, a warehouse on the outskirts of the glitzy eastern suburbs. He’d already been to Manly, Mosman and Balmoral Beach today, ensuring his investments were running smoothly. This last warehouse had to be cleared asap for a new tenant to move in tomorrow and his manager had informed him there’d been some kind of hold-up.
He didn’t suffer incompetence lightly. He liked order in all aspects of life. Which was why he’d sort out this complication today and face the shake-up at The Number Makers tomorrow.
Crazy name for an accountancy firm. Then again, considering the mess the initial owner had made of the business, it didn’t surprise him. Thank goodness for workers like Charlotte Baxter. Working offsite could be tough, but she’d made everything much easier than expected. He admired her work ethic, the way she questioned him and proposed solutions to problems he might not have anticipated.
He also liked the way she brought out the worst in him.
She sounded so prim and proper, so damned disapproving, he couldn’t help but tease her.
He shouldn’t make assumptions but he knew her type. Conservative wardrobe. Conservative views. Conservative life. She probably had an equally reserved husband, well-behaved kids and knitted on her lunch break. Though this was at odds with the fact that he’d registered her marital status as single when he’d dug deeper into his rising-star employee.
He’d deliberately called her Charlie during their first call and she hadn’t hesitated in reprimanding him—ensuring he never called her anything but. Because there was an underlying hint of playfulness in her sharp reprimands and retorts, as if she wanted to cut loose but didn’t know how.
Not that he was the guy to help her do it, but if he could make his work environment more pleasant, he was all for it. He’d had enough of morose, stifled environments back home to ensure he went out of his way to foster the opposite in all aspects of his life ever since.
Oh, yeah, he was looking forward to meeting the woman who’d smoothed his entry into the company. He had grand plans for her. Management plans. Because The Number Makers needed to be turned into a profitable business again and that meant appointing qualified staff. Staff like his introverted Charlie.
He couldn’t wait to meet her.

CHAPTER THREE (#u6982bd65-25ed-5fe4-a87d-3cbee9cbe4a2)
CHARLOTTE STEPPED INTO her aunt’s rented space in a cavernous warehouse and immediately wished she’d said no to helping out.
She wasn’t a prude, but seeing evidence of how much fun other people had in their sex lives always made her feel lacking somehow.
Her aunt’s online business, Dee’s Delights, did a roaring trade in all things sexy. From dildos to condoms, beads to fetish wear, her aunt dealt in it all. And if the lavish lifestyle her aunt enjoyed was any indication, many people were return customers.
Dee had told her about the business when Charlotte turned eighteen. Initially mortified that her aunt even knew what a cock ring was, Charlotte had studiously ignored anything to do with her aunt’s line of work. Now, at the ripe old age of twenty-five, and never having had a long-term boyfriend, Charlotte wondered if having to handle all this stuff today was the universe’s way of telling her to lighten the hell up.
Thankfully, most of the raunchier stuff still resided in boxes, leaving her to pack only the vibrators, handcuffs and lingerie. She’d booked a courier for six tonight, meaning she had three hours to get every box filled and taped.
As she held up a pair of fluffy fuchsia handcuffs and smirked, she glimpsed a full-length mirror on the inside of a partially open wardrobe door. Probably a remnant of the last tenant—she couldn’t imagine her aunt wanting to try on any of her merchandise and didn’t want to—but the moment the idea of trying stuff on popped into her head she couldn’t dislodge it.
Her gaze fell on the lingerie. A turquoise chemise with lace overlay. A purple halter baby-doll. A wet-look corset. A pink body stocking. An ebony faux-leather bustier and thong.
Heat flushed her cheeks as she picked up the latter and held it up. Would her sedate life change if she wore stuff like this? Not that anybody would see it, but it might give her more confidence to shake things up a little. And she wanted that, craved that, with every cell in her lonely body.
Her flatmate Mak had jetted off to New York with her delectable guy Hudson last week, leaving her more alone than ever. Charlotte rarely dated, didn’t go out clubbing and preferred reading to sexting. On the odd occasion she dipped her toes into the dating pool, she went for boring guys like...her. Because ultimately, that was the kind of guy she could see herself marrying, having kids with and with whom she could build the kind of life she’d never had. Secure and happy, with a house she could grow old in, surrounded by a family of her own making.
She’d found the house but wasn’t having much luck with the guy.
Before she could second-guess her crazy decision she pulled the elastic off her ponytail and ran her fingers through her hair. She took off her glasses, toed off her flat pumps, unbuttoned her white shirt and unzipped her grey pencil skirt. The warehouse air had a chill, making her skin pebble as she stripped off her sensible cotton underwear. Or maybe her goosebumps had more to do with the naughty thrill of slipping on the thong and bungling her way into the bustier with detachable lace collar.
When she’d done up the last hook, she took a deep breath and padded over to the wardrobe. Opened the door wider. Took a peek in the mirror. And gasped.
Her reflection didn’t shock her as much as the sight of a tall gorgeous guy in a suit staring at her with obvious appreciation.
‘Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?’ She spun around, covering her bits even though they weren’t really exposed.
Her handbag and cell were on the table laden with boxes, too far away to make an emergency call if she had to.
Damn, why had she been so stupid? She could’ve dressed up—or undressed in this case—in her flat where she’d be storing the boxes, not here where any pervert could wander in.
‘I could ask you the same question,’ the handsome stranger said, stepping inside the room and closing the door.
Uh-oh.
Being alone in an empty warehouse in raunchy underwear with a man, no matter how attractive, wasn’t good. She had more sense than this. She blamed her stupid impulsiveness on the realisation that her life was so empty she actually looked forward to verbally sparring with her irritating boss daily.
She’d wanted to cut loose for just one moment. To feel what other women felt wearing underwear like this. She hadn’t banked on having an audience for a foolish moment of bravado.
‘Get out,’ she yelled, sidling towards her clothes, fear making her heart pound in her ears.
‘I own this place so that’s not going to happen.’ His curious gaze fell on the table, where the vibrators and lingerie lay scattered. ‘You, on the other hand, need to tell me what you’re doing here and why my warehouse has turned into a sex shop.’
There was something vaguely familiar about his condescending tone and she hoped to God he wasn’t a client whose taxes she’d done.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, this isn’t a sex shop. My aunt rents this space, from you apparently, for her online business and she asked me to pack everything up so the new tenant can move in tomorrow.’ She gestured at the merchandise, belatedly realising she’d left herself exposed when a glimmer of interest lit his gaze. ‘So if you leave me to it, I’ll be out of here in a few hours.’
‘Well, aren’t you the little helper,’ he drawled, his gaze starting at her toes and working its way upward, a slow, leisurely perusal that made her nipples harden.
Her body’s reaction startled her. She’d never reacted to any man like this before, let alone a stranger. She read about this kind of thing in the romance novels she devoured by the boxful: the shy woman instantly attracted to the commanding man. It was a seduction game she fantasised about but knew could never happen to her. They called those novels fiction for a reason.
Yet here she was, standing in front of a guy she didn’t know, letting him look his fill. And enjoying it.
When he reached her eyes, what she saw made her knees wobble a tad. Desire. Passion. Lust. The kind of lust she’d never, ever seen in a man’s eyes when they looked at her.
‘Is trying on every outfit part of you helping out?’
His obvious desire discombobulated her and when he grinned the smug smile of a guy who knew exactly the effect he had on her, she made an impulsive decision to make him pay. She might be inexperienced and naive when it came to sparring with a man but that didn’t mean he could toy with her.
‘My old corsets and bustiers are worn out so I thought I’d replenish my stocks.’ A blush heated her cheeks at the blatant lie but once she started she couldn’t stop. ‘It’s a tough job looking this good for the men of Sydney but somebody’s gotta do it.’
He laughed, a rich, deep rumble that reached down into her chest and filled the lonely ache that resided there.
‘Does that include me, considering I’m a man and I’m in Sydney?’
Charlotte had never played games with any guy. She didn’t flirt and she didn’t elicit grand passion in them. But something about this stranger made her feel like she could do both.
‘Why, do you think I look good?’ She rested her hands on her hips in a blatant invitation for him to look his fill again, wondering what magic powers the lingerie held to make her this bold.
‘Honey, you have no idea.’ He stalked towards her and her newfound bravado fled. She edged towards the table, needing her cell within reach. But like an eternal klutz she stumbled and would have fallen if he hadn’t been by her side in a second. Strong hands steadied her, held her upright, made her yearn for things she had no right to crave.
Up close, he was even more startlingly good-looking: dark wavy hair, blue eyes the colour of Bondi on a clear day, chiselled jaw dusted with the faintest hint of stubble, the perfection marred by a small scar on the underside of his chin. And when he smiled again...oh, boy, she felt it all the way down to her toes and a few choice places in between.
She cleared her throat, trying to summon outrage at being held by a stranger while dressed like a stripper. ‘Let me go.’
But her command sounded soft and uncertain, falling flat if his amused smirk was any indication.
‘Do you want me to?’
He quirked an eyebrow, daring her to deny the invisible energy zapping between them.
She couldn’t explain it. She didn’t do casual sex; could count the number of times she’d actually had sex on one hand because it had been unremarkable. She didn’t believe in instant attraction or one-night stands. Or having vertical sex with a hot stranger in a warehouse.
This wasn’t her.
But what if it could be?
For a moment, she wondered where that voice had come from. Her conscience didn’t encourage her to go wild. Quite the opposite, in fact.
And where had it got her? Alone and craving a relationship.
What if she did something so out of character that she could never go back to the person she was? Would that give her the kick-start she needed to make the life she wanted happen instead of waiting for it to happen to her?
‘I don’t know you... I mean, I’m not good at this...and I don’t usually do this kind of thing with strangers—’
He kissed her. His lips were commanding, his skill obvious in the way he exacted the right amount of pressure—not too hard, not too soft...
A kiss to her meant a meshing of lips, the occasional tongue, a bit messy and nothing to rave about.
What this guy could do with his tongue...the moment it invaded her mouth and touched hers she couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do anything but hold onto his lapels and press against him, desperate for contact.
His relentless assault on her lips made her tremble with longing. He changed the pressure, he nipped her bottom lip so hard it bordered on painful, and then he soothed it with a seductive sweep of his tongue.
A fleeting thought pierced her passion haze: could a woman orgasm from a kiss? Because she throbbed so startlingly from his mouth on hers that it had to be scientifically possible.
His fingers threaded through her hair, grazing her scalp, and she moaned at the tingling sensation it elicited. He took it as a sign of encouragement, spinning her around and hoisting her onto the table. She gasped at the cold plastic against her bare butt and he broke their kiss to stare at her in wide-eyed wonder.
‘I don’t do this. Sex with a stranger.’
‘Me either,’ she said, breathless and slightly husky. Wishing he hadn’t stopped. Wishing she had the guts to articulate how badly she wanted him to continue.
His hungry gaze locked on her, daring her to follow through on what they’d started. ‘So what do you want to do?’
He’d given her an out.
She should take it.
Her entire life revolved around rational, well-considered decisions. Weighing up facts. Making safe choices.
Where had it got her?
Single and not loving it. Her sex life was lived vicariously through erotic romance novels, craving an elusive something that would jolt her staid life; something like this crazy, exciting interlude to give her confidence a boost and ensure she could follow through on finding her perfect guy.
Staring into this guy’s amazing blue eyes, she wondered if maybe karma had delivered exactly what she needed.
Her throat tightened but she had to get the words out, had to take a chance for once. ‘I want to do this.’
Before her common sense kicked in, she placed her hand on his abs. Low enough to be suggestive. High enough he could end this now and walk away if he wanted to.
His low groan raised the fine hairs on her arms as he nudged her knees apart, stepped between them and slid his hands under her butt, sliding her towards him.
She gasped as he ground against her, hard and insistent, while his hands palmed her breasts. The softest whimper filled the air and through a hazy fog of want, she realised it had come from her.
She wrapped her legs around him and he responded by rolling her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, making her go a little crazy. She writhed against him, wanting more. He plucked at her nipples, sending a sizzle to her core.
If his touch felt so good with the stupid faux leather as a barrier, what would it feel like to be naked? She wanted to find out but he had other ideas.
‘Lie back,’ he said, placing a palm between her breasts and gently pushing. ‘Prop on your elbows so I can see you.’
The guys Charlotte had been with didn’t issue orders. They got the basics done without a word.
She liked being told what to do. Liked the gleam in his eyes when she did exactly as he wanted. She eased back until she rested on her elbows, uncertainty making her shiver as he hooked his thumbs under the elastic of the thong. He tugged gently, lowering it, leaving her naked and vulnerable.
She’d never felt so exposed. But her protest died on her lips as he locked gazes with her at the same time he slid a finger inside her.
Reverence widened his eyes, as if she’d bestowed a great gift on him, and her flutters of worry faded beneath his ministrations.
Another finger slipped inside her, rhythmically sliding in and out as his thumb circled her clitoris. Slow. Steady. He was driving her insane with the feel of him and the way he met her gaze. Uncompromising. Confident in his ability to satisfy her. Seeing her, really seeing her.
‘You are so frigging beautiful,’ he muttered, his tone barely above a growl, and she gritted her teeth to stop from groaning out loud as the pleasure built. She tensed her muscles and began spiralling out of control. She blanked her mind until all she could focus on was him. His touch. His fingers. His stare.
Her orgasm crashed over her, so strong, so unexpected, wiping her out. She couldn’t hold back, her yell loud and triumphant.
She expected to be swamped with mortification the second her body stopped pulsating. But nothing happened, other than a relentless yearning to do it all again.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured, sounding oddly formal.
‘You’re welcome.’ His smile widened as he reached down and unzipped. ‘If you want, there’s more where that came from.’
Charlotte’s jaw dropped open. She’d heard of the fabled internal orgasm but equated it to other fanciful, elusive things, like unicorns and fairies.
Apparently her mystery man believed in all things mystical and she watched in unabashed fascination as he unsnapped his trousers and pushed them down along with his jocks.
Showing her proof of exactly why he could be so confident.
Wowza. She might not have seen many erect penises but the ones she had made this one look like a giant. With a wicked-looking head.
She smiled at her joke and he quirked an eyebrow.
‘It doesn’t bode well that you take one look at me and want to laugh.’
A killer sense of humour and a big dick. She’d hit the jackpot. Ding, ding, ding.
‘I’m out of my comfort zone here. Can’t you give a girl a break?’
‘Thought I already had.’ He winked and she laughed, surprised at how easy this felt.
The few other times she’d had sex had been awkward, without a hint of banter. She liked this, liked feeling like a wanton goddess splayed before a sex god.
‘This is crazy. You know that, right?’
He nodded, fishing a condom from his wallet and rolling it on with an expertise that indicated he’d done it many times before. ‘Crazy is good.’
He set about proving it, sliding into her with a force that made her gasp. He grabbed her butt, lifting it slightly so he could drive into her on an angle that ensured he hit that fabled sweet spot. He thrust into her over and over with a relentless force that had her surging up, reaching for him.
She held onto his shoulders as he half lifted her off the table, his penetration deeper, his rhythm faster. The pleasure bordered on pain and she bit his shoulder as she came again, stunned by the ferocity of it.
He tensed and groaned a second later, his fingers digging into her butt so hard she might not be able to sit for a week. She didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything other than this euphoria making her feel as if she could do anything.
He held her for what seemed like an eternity before gently lowering her to the table and withdrawing. She felt the loss immediately. Craved more. Mentally chastised herself for being stupid.
He turned away, giving her time to put her clothes on while he took care of business. She didn’t like seeing his back. Not when their fronts had connected so well.
Remorse, swift and stabbing, flooded her.
What the hell had she been thinking, having sex with a stranger?
However, when he turned back to her, his expression open, his smile satisfied, she couldn’t be sorry.
‘You were incredible.’ He cupped her face between his hands and brushed a soft kiss across her lips.
To Charlotte’s horror, the burn of impending tears stung her eyes and she blinked, forcing a smile as she pushed him away.
‘So were you,’ she said, sounding flippant, while inside a little part of her crumbled at his unexpected tenderness. ‘But I really need to get this tidied up now.’
It was a curt dismissal he didn’t deserve but she had to get him out of here before she cried.
‘Sure, I hear the landlord is a slavedriver.’ He seemed completely unfazed by her rudeness but he stared at her with a newfound intensity that bordered on uncomfortable. ‘Maybe I’ll see you around?’
‘Maybe,’ she ground out, refraining from adding, ‘like never.’
Scorching sex with a stranger hadn’t been on her to-do list today but now that it had happened...did she feel different? More confident? More womanly? Just more?
She had no freaking idea because in seizing the moment, she’d moved so far out of her comfort zone she’d ended up on another planet, one where good girls did bad things and didn’t regret it. Especially when that bad thing had been oh, so good.
But no matter how incredible her momentary lapse had been, it couldn’t happen again. She needed to move on and refocus on the priorities in her life. Like finding a genuine guy who’d want more than a quickie on a table in the back room of a warehouse.
He paused at the door, as if he wanted to say something. Ask for her phone number? Ask her out to dinner? Her inner romantic yearned for some gesture to indicate that this hadn’t been just sex to him.
She should have been relieved when he half shrugged and held up a hand in farewell before closing the door behind him.
She wasn’t. All she could think was that she’d found the bad boy she’d been craving but had let him go far too easily.

CHAPTER FOUR (#u6982bd65-25ed-5fe4-a87d-3cbee9cbe4a2)
ALEX HAD DONE something bad.
The kind of bad that could get him a lifetime membership to hell alongside the naughty guy with horns and a pitchfork, ensuring he danced on hot coals for all eternity.
On his first day back in Sydney, he’d envisaged having a quiet afternoon inspecting his property investments.
He hadn’t expected to have sex with the woman he’d earmarked to take The Number Makers into the future.
Even now, hunkered behind a solid wooden door in a rather ugly office, he couldn’t believe he’d been stupid enough to have sex with Charlotte Baxter.
Not that he’d recognised her until it was too late, with her hair down, no glasses and wearing the kind of lingerie to fuel wet dreams.
Because the woman he’d researched online once he’d taken this job looked nothing like the woman he’d had scorching sex with in that warehouse.
The headshot on The Number Makers website depicted a prim woman wearing a bland white blouse, minimal make-up, steel-rimmed glasses and a dorky headband, with her hair pulled tight in a high ponytail.
Never in his wildest dreams had he expected Charlotte to be wearing leather underwear and looking nothing like her picture when they first met.
There’d been a vague familiarity about her at the time, but he’d put it down to wishful thinking. His little head overriding his big one because he’d wanted to get laid and the intriguing woman in the leather underwear had seemed up for it.
It wasn’t until they’d done the deed that the truth had detonated. The moment he’d heard her say, ‘I really need to get this tidied up now,’ he’d known.
Charlotte had used that same phrase many times over the last few weeks when he’d assigned her tasks. Usually in reference to cleaning up work, where she had to deal with the mess left by the old manager.
When it came to work, she’d always been agreeable. It was only when he tried to be friendly, to get to know her better, that she became abrupt and shut him down.
I really need to get this tidied up now.
Fuck. He’d been struck dumb when he’d realised he’d slept with an employee. That was when he’d taken a closer look and realised that without the uptight hairdo and the glasses, she had the same eyes. A captivating slate grey that held secrets.
Like the fact she could masquerade as a vixen after hours once she shed her librarian persona.
He should have trusted his gut that she looked vaguely familiar, should have taken a closer look at her face. Unfortunately, he’d taken one look at her lithe body and lost it. Not because she was a bombshell—she had small, pert breasts thrust heavenward by that saucy bustier, a trim waist, slim legs and an ass that fitted in his hands nicely.
No, he’d lost it because he’d seen something in her eyes...a wistful yearning, a war waged between boldness and fear, like she wanted to jump him but didn’t know how.
It had captured his interest like nothing else.
After he’d realised her true identity, he hadn’t been able to get over the startling contrast between the woman he’d imagined and the woman who’d made him hard by fixing those cool grey eyes on him.
He could read most people. But after he’d twigged that he’d screwed Charlotte, he couldn’t fathom how the hell she’d been so into it. How did a no-nonsense woman switch from being contained at work to confident enough to strip down, try on raunchy underwear and fuck a stranger in a warehouse? It left him completely baffled.
She’d intrigued him during their many phone conversations and he’d wanted to see how far he could push her. He’d deliberately teased her over the last few weeks, chuckling at the curt shutdowns she reserved for him—and probably every male on the planet.
To think how she’d responded to his touch...at the time, he hadn’t been able to explain rationally his over-the-top urge to possess her. Sure, he’d been too busy to date lately and hadn’t had sex in three months, but he’d never been driven by urges before. Celibacy didn’t bother him, especially when he had a new job in the pipeline. Yet he’d taken one look at Charlotte—not that he’d known it was her at the time—and wanted her.
His cock hardened and he shifted in the uncomfortable ergonomic chair. First item of business on the agenda at The Number Makers: change the furniture and make it more comfortable for staff so they wanted to stick around and work.
Though when he met Charlotte in a few minutes’ time and she realised who she’d had scorching sex with on a table in a back room of his warehouse, he had a feeling nothing would make her stick around.
He had to convince her otherwise.
Her work spoke for itself. She went above and beyond for her clients. She put in extra hours without expecting remuneration. She carried the load for her team. And she’d completed every task he’d set for her over the last few weeks. He’d been testing her, seeing how willing she was to take on extra work and she’d passed.
He hoped to God she wouldn’t quit because he hadn’t kept his dick in his pants.
Worse, he couldn’t get the image of her splayed on that table out of his head. He’d never seen anything so damned erotic as a woman he’d just met being so willing and eager. She’d been absolutely wanton and it had turned him on big time. Later, when he’d discovered her identity, it had made him wonder how he could have gotten her so wrong. Had that bold, fiery woman always been hidden beneath her brusque exterior? And if so, what would it be like to coax her to come out and play again?
He couldn’t afford to think that way. He’d made a mistake by sleeping with an employee, a mistake he had no intention of replicating.
But the fact he couldn’t stop thinking about her, had lain awake most of last night because of it, didn’t bode well for when she entered this office shortly.
He needed to focus on work. On making The Number Makers a strong, viable company. The more money he made, the further he left his old life behind. He couldn’t afford a slip-up.
But what if he’d already slipped up in slaking his unexpected lust for her?

CHAPTER FIVE (#u6982bd65-25ed-5fe4-a87d-3cbee9cbe4a2)
CHARLOTTE LIKED TICKING off tasks in her head.
Pack up Aunt Dee’s merchandise? Check.
Have the boxes couriered to her flat? Check.
Enjoy sizzling sex with random stranger? Check.
Even now, the next morning, heat surged to her cheeks every time she thought about what she’d done in that warehouse.
She, the queen of introverts, having two mind-blowing orgasms with a guy whose name she didn’t even know.
It had been preposterous. Ludicrous. And so freaking incredible that she’d found herself smiling at random times last night, and several times first thing this morning.
After he’d left and she’d got over her funk at doing something so completely illogically bizarre, she’d expected embarrassment and shame to follow her initial remorse. It hadn’t happened. Instead, she’d felt oddly empowered, like she’d taken control of her sexuality and wielded it in a way she’d never anticipated.
Of course it hadn’t lasted and by the time she’d got home, her newfound boldness had faded and humiliation had set in.
How could she have done that?
Obsessing about sex with a stranger was the last thing she needed, especially when she had to meet her pain-in-the-ass boss in person for the first time in ten minutes.
Her confidence had taken more hits than a boxer over the years and while her sexy encounter yesterday had given her a momentary boost, she’d reverted to type today, envisaging their first meeting to be more of the usual: him demanding, her deferent.
To give herself confidence she’d dressed to impress today, wearing her version of a power suit. A deep burgundy knee-length skirt, an ivory silk blouse that tied in a bow at the neck, a fitted black jacket and low kitten heels. She’d even gone all out and straightened her hair. Not in any effort to impress Alexander bloody Bronson but to ensure she exuded self-assurance when she faced her nemesis.
Okay, so she was being a tad overdramatic, but he’d really riled her these last few weeks, barking orders, demanding perfection and teasing her with that ridiculous nickname. Charlie. Made her sound like a boy. And hit a little too close to home because of how asexual she felt at times, languishing in her single life and wishing things could be different. That she could be different.
Courtesy of that sexy stranger yesterday, maybe she could be.
That was what her brain-fade in that warehouse had ultimately been about: embracing her dormant sexy side, indulging in a little excitement, seeing exactly what she was capable of if she let go a little. Because, although she craved a stable, loving guy, deep down she wanted him to rock her world in more ways than one.
Trying not to cringe with embarrassment at the indignity of having sex with a man whose name she didn’t know, she gathered her files, checked them for the third time to ensure she’d stacked them in alphabetical order then rested her electronic tablet on the top, ready to show Mr Bronson exactly how competent she could be.
She hadn’t seen him arrive but the receptionist assured her he’d been holed up in the old manager’s office since early this morning and hadn’t opened his door since.
She’d be the first staff member he would interview.
‘Woo-hoo, lucky me,’ she muttered, glancing at the old-fashioned round clock opposite her desk. She valued punctuality so surely her new boss would be impressed if she arrived five minutes early for their meeting?
Not giving herself time to ponder the upcoming face-to-face she’d been dreading ever since he’d told her of his arrival in Sydney, she swept up her work in her arms and headed for his office.
The receptionist mouthed ‘good luck’ and Charlotte grimaced in response, before knocking twice on Mr Bronson’s door.
When she heard a clipped, ‘Come in,’ she opened the door and stepped inside. He had his back to her, his butt resting on the desk while he spoke into a cell pressed to his ear.
Her first impressions: dark wavy hair a tad too long to be conventional, broad shoulders, designer suit, nice ass.
Wow, that guy yesterday must have really done a number on her if one of the first things she noticed about Mr Tall, Dark and Demanding was his ass.
She closed the door and crossed the room, mentally reciting all the ways she’d like to torture him in response to how he’d tortured her over the last few weeks.
However, all thought fled when he ended his call and turned to face her.
Shock rendered her muscles useless and the files in her hands tumbled to the floor, along with her tablet, the numbness flooding her body soon replaced by something far more sinister.
Soul-deep, soul-destroying mortification.
Because the boss she had to impress to keep this job, the boss who’d made her life hell with his demands, the boss who could make or break this company, was the sexy guy who’d turned her world upside down yesterday in the warehouse.

CHAPTER SIX (#u6982bd65-25ed-5fe4-a87d-3cbee9cbe4a2)
WHEN ALEX TOOK on a new client he threw himself into the business of rejuvenating that company one hundred per cent. He’d gained a reputation as astute, driven and results-focused because of it. Clients came to him these days. He rarely advertised. And he’d treated The Number Makers job with the same industrious approach. Meaning he’d researched the key players before he started. Meaning he knew Charlotte Baxter was dedicated, conscientious and goal-orientated before she walked through his door.
He also knew she’d probably want to eviscerate him once she got past the shock.
‘Need some help?’ He didn’t wait for a response, moving around the desk to squat and gather up her files. It would give her time to compose herself, as a small part of him felt like a complete bastard for springing a surprise of this magnitude on her when he could have called her last night and warned her.
If he’d been blown away when he’d realised the truth yesterday he could only imagine how she’d be feeling now.
When he stood and placed her files and tablet on the desk, she still hadn’t moved but some of her colour had returned.
‘Why don’t you have a seat and we’ll talk?’ He laid a hand in the small of her back and she jumped as if he’d electrocuted her.
He didn’t know whether to be flattered or appalled.
‘I know this is awkward, but it doesn’t have to be—’
‘You knew?’ She sank onto the chair opposite, her eyes wide and accusing, her mouth open slightly, shell-shocked. ‘I mean, yesterday, when we...you know...you knew who I was?’
Hell.
Alex had intended on coming clean but not this soon. He’d wanted to smooth the way, reassure her that what had happened wouldn’t interfere with their working relationship at all. But one look at her mouth twisting in disgust told him he’d be fighting a monstrous battle to convince her to stay, let alone listen.
‘Charlie, look—’
‘Don’t call me that,’ she growled. ‘Don’t you dare call me that.’
She shook her head, sending a sleek fall of hair over one shoulder. He preferred the way she’d looked yesterday, tousled and make-up–free, and the fact she’d gone to so much trouble today to impress her new boss made him feel bad anew.
‘Let me explain.’ He laid out his hands, palms up, like he had nothing to hide. Yeah, like that would placate her. ‘I know I should have said something yesterday. I’m a businessman and I’m good at what I do, so I researched this company before taking on the job.’
Her eyes narrowed, fiery slate slits pinning him with a disdain he deserved. ‘What do you want, a medal?’
He bit back his first instinct to laugh. Good to know she had a sense of humour beneath that austere front. Along with lingerie designed to make a man lose his mind.
‘What I’m trying to say is, I didn’t recognise you when I set foot in that warehouse. You had your hair down and glasses off and were wearing that lingerie...’
Crap, how could he explain the next bit without sounding like a total sleaze?
‘And?’ Disgust had given way to audible animosity. He hoped it was an improvement.
‘You blew me away and I couldn’t control my baser instincts. We had phenomenal sex, but it wasn’t until you said something afterward that I realised who you were.’
He could have sworn her upper lip curled in derision. ‘And what was that?’
‘You said “I really need to get this tidied up now”, referring to your aunt’s merchandise in the warehouse, but it’s a phrase you’ve used often in reference to tasks I’ve set you over the last few weeks.’
Her frosty expression didn’t change, as if she was unsure whether to believe him or not, but she gave a begrudging nod and he pinched the bridge of his nose, searching for the right words to make her understand. ‘I was honest about one thing yesterday. I don’t do things like that, meet women and have sex with them in under ten minutes. But seeing you like that...it blew my mind.’
At last, a breakthrough, when her rigid shoulders relaxed a tad. Not a complete thaw but he’d work on it, whatever it took. He needed Charlotte on board for his revamp of this company. And if having to work alongside this intriguing woman while he did it was a side benefit, he was all for it.
‘You seriously couldn’t control yourself around me?’
Out of all the responses he’d imagined, that wasn’t it. She sounded hesitant, slightly awed, as if she couldn’t believe he’d want her.
Some asshole must have really done a number on her for her confidence to be that low. It made him want to vault the desk, sweep her into his arms and show her exactly how sexy she was.
‘You’re incredible, and when I saw you I wanted you.’ He shrugged, hoping the simple truth would appease more than an apology. ‘And at the risk of having you fling that tablet at my head, seeing you strut in here only reinforces that snap judgement I made yesterday. But I know we have to work together and we’re professionals. So let’s chalk up yesterday to what it was—phenomenal, impulsive, amazing sex between consulting adults—and move on to business.’
She stared at him, dazed, but the faint pink in her cheeks indicated he’d hit the mark by articulating just how incredible it had been between them.
‘You expect us to work together and pretend like nothing happened?’
She’d lost the biting, sarcastic edge and it gave him hope.
‘I don’t know about you, but I’m not that good a pretender.’ He steepled his fingers together and rested them on the desk, trying to project a professional picture, when forgetting what they’d done in that warehouse was the furthest thing from his mind.
Seeing her again, sitting opposite him in her conservative work attire, only made him want to see what was under it all the more. Would she be wearing lace? Satin? Or that risqué leather again?
Damn, not helping the hard-on situation.
‘But doing the best job I can for this company is important to me and I want you to work alongside me to achieve that goal. Can you do it?’
He half expected her to tell him to stick his offer. To tender her resignation and sue the pants off him.
Instead, after a long pause where she studied him with disconcerting intensity, she nodded.
‘I can do this if you can.’
Hot damn, that almost sounded like a challenge.
As if she thought he couldn’t work with her without reverting to the horny caveman he’d been yesterday. He’d show her.
But in agreeing to keep this all business, he’d be deprived of some serious pleasure.
Their first encounter had been colossal.
What would prim Charlotte be like if she really let go?

CHAPTER SEVEN (#u6982bd65-25ed-5fe4-a87d-3cbee9cbe4a2)
CHARLOTTE LEFT THE office in a daze. She couldn’t return to her desk to focus on work and pretend her carefully ordered world hadn’t just been tipped on its head.
She’d had sex with her new boss.
Not just sex. Amazing, stupendous, multi-orgasmic sex. The kind of sex she’d only ever read about but never dreamed could happen for real.
As she walked aimlessly in the bright Sydney sunshine, she remembered one of the last things she’d said to her flatmate Mak before she’d left to take Broadway by storm.
‘I need a bad boy. Some big, bold, annoying, arrogant guy to rattle my cage.’
Well, she’d got her wish and then some.
In what weird alternate universe, in what giant cosmic twist of fate, did she have the best sex of her life only to discover she’d have to work alongside the hot guy who’d rocked her world? The guy who held her dream of owning her perfect house in the palm of his hand and had the power to make or break it with a snap of his talented fingers?
It didn’t seem possible. But it was and now Alexander Bronson expected her to work with him and act like he hadn’t been inside her in the most intimate way?
Impossible. Improbable. Improper.
Because Charlotte couldn’t forget, despite what she’d told him.
She blamed him, for saying all that stuff about how badly he’d wanted her and how he couldn’t control himself around her. As if she were some glamorous femme fatale who inspired that kind of passion in a man. She wished.
There’d been a moment when she’d first seen him behind his desk, an infinitesimal moment, where she’d seen hunger in his eyes. As if he still wanted her. It should have sent her running. It didn’t.
For the simple fact she liked feeling wanted.
Men didn’t turn their heads to stare as she walked down the street. She didn’t inspire sexist wolf whistles or lewd comments. And the one and only time she’d succumbed to searching for a date online, she’d taken down her profile from the app after a day when she’d received a mortifying two less-than-stellar requests.
Besides, she valued her job. She needed her job. And she couldn’t walk away now, not when she was so close to realising one of her long-held dreams.
Having nomadic parents, being raised by a kooky aunt, meant Charlotte craved security like nothing else. And the quirky cottage on the outskirts of Sydney that she’d fallen in love with represented that to her.
A home.
A house all of her own, where she could establish the life she wanted before following the rest of her dreams: a husband, kids, the works. Charlotte wanted it all and knew the only way she could make it happen was to go after it.
It wouldn’t be easy, finding her perfect guy. She knew this, considering she’d have to date regularly to discover what she really wanted in a man and her track record in the dating stakes had been abysmal until now. But the house was a first step in the right direction and somehow, with her twisted logic, she thought that once she had the house she could set about finding a guy happy to live in it.
She almost had enough for a deposit, enough for the bank to take her seriously for a hefty loan application. Just another fortnight and she could start living her dream.
But to do so, she had to tolerate working with Alexander Bronson.
‘You can do this,’ she muttered, kicking at a stone on the footpath, as her cell buzzed in her pocket.
She fished it out, her palms growing clammy as his name popped up on the screen. She’d entered it the moment she’d left his office, ensuring she could ignore his calls if needed.
But this wasn’t a call; he’d sent a text.
Have ordered morning tea for staff. Please pick up the order from Le Miel on your way back.
Will be good to have staff bonding session.
Alex
Charlotte muttered an unsavoury curse under her breath and shoved her cell back in her pocket. She didn’t need a staff bonding session. She’d already bonded with her boss and it had been so damn monumental she couldn’t forget it.
Le Miel was a café they often used for work functions, and she figured he’d probably got the recommendation from the receptionist. Heading there would be good—she needed a friendly ear and Abby was a great listener. Though what her friend would say when she heard about the events of the last few days... Charlotte picked up the pace. The faster Abby talked sense into her, the better.
Ten minutes later, she had two bags filled with Abby’s delectable pastries ready to take back to the office. But she couldn’t leave without talking to her friend so she perched at her favourite table, ordered a cappuccino and waited.
Abby always popped out from the kitchen when she visited, which was several times a week. Charlotte couldn’t resist her friend’s melt-in-the-mouth beignets, croissants and pain au chocolat, eternally grateful for her fast metabolism that ensured a thirty-minute walk a day burned off the calories.
That leather bustier yesterday had been tighter than her usual size—a moderate B cup—so maybe she should lay off... She stopped eyeing up a giant almond croissant and sipped at her coffee instead, wishing she hadn’t thought about that damn lingerie. She blamed it for her entire lapse in judgement. That, and Alex’s inherent hotness.
Alex.
That was what he’d said to call him. Informal, casual, implying intimacy.
Hell, it was going to be a tough four weeks, waiting until the wunderkind yanked the accountancy firm out of the mire. It could only be a good thing, ensuring she had a job to support her impending loan. But four weeks of working alongside the guy who’d haunted her dreams last night would be torture.
‘Hey, Char, what brings you by this time of day?’ Abby collapsed into the chair opposite after placing a plate of freshly baked strawberry tartlets on the table between them. ‘Your firm only ever orders afternoon tea and only then infrequently.’
‘The new boss is trying to suck up to the employees.’
Abby smiled. ‘So how is the boss from hell? Is he as intimidating in person as he was on the phone to you all these weeks?’
She’d whined about Alex for weeks—his condescending teasing, his constant demands, his infernal tasks—and Abby had been a sympathetic ear. Which would make what she had to divulge all the more shocking. Her friend would think she’d lost her mind.
‘Uh... Alex is good.’
Abby’s eyebrows shot up. ‘That’s interesting.’
‘What?’
‘You’ve never called him anything other than nasty names before. What’s with the breathy tone? Is he hot?’
‘You don’t know the half of it,’ Charlotte muttered, wishing she’d grabbed the morning tea order and made a run for it.
Abby grinned and rubbed her hands together. ‘I sense a story.’
‘Yeah, a horror story.’ Charlotte sighed and internally debated how much to tell her friend.
‘That bad, huh?’ Abby patted her hand. ‘Why don’t you tell dear Abby all about it?’
Charlotte usually laughed at her friend’s corny joke whenever she used that line. She barely mustered a wan smile today.
‘I had sex with him.’
The tartlet Abby had halfway to her mouth fell to the floor and landed upside down with a small splat. ‘What did you just say?’
‘You heard me.’ Charlotte grimaced, hating the way her stomach churned. She could have blamed it on hunger, considering she hadn’t eaten a thing since last night, but she knew better. ‘I did something crazy yesterday and now the karma gods are paying me back big time.’
Abby gaped at her and she didn’t blame her. Charlotte hadn’t had a date in all the time she’d known her so the fact she’d just announced she’d had sex with her boss would be as unbelievable as flying to the moon.
‘I think you better start at the beginning.’ Abby grabbed a serviette, scooped up the smashed tartlet, and placed it on the table. ‘Though you’ll have to make it the quick version because I’ve got another batch of croissants in the oven.’
Charlotte inhaled a breath and blew it out. Yeah, like that would calm her nerves. Thinking about what she’d done was bad enough. Articulating it would make it all too real.
‘Short version. My aunt got called away to Byron Bay to help a sick friend. She had to urgently vacate the warehouse she rents to store her merchandise and asked me to do it. So I was there, packing stuff, when the hottest guy on the planet walked in and we ended up having sex.’
Jeez, it did sound crazier spoken out loud.
Abby, astute as ever, eyed her with speculation. ‘You’re not telling me everything. Why would you have sex with some random stranger, hot or otherwise?’
Heat flushed Charlotte’s cheeks as she remembered exactly how hot sex with Alex had been. The way he’d looked at her, the way he’d touched her, the way he’d pounded into her...her insides clenched at the incredible, erotic memory. ‘Well, I was in a weird mood, lamenting my rather pitiful social life, so decided to try on some of the lingerie.’
Abby let out a whoop of laughter. ‘No way. He walked in on you?’
‘In faux leather, no less. Bustier and thong. A real eye-opener.’ Her sardonic response elicited more laughter.
‘So you’re blaming the lingerie?’
‘If only.’ Charlotte shook her head, wishing she could blame her lapse in judgement on something so trivial. ‘The lingerie made me feel bold but it was more than that...he really looked at me and I liked it.’
‘Oh, sweetie.’ Abby leaned over and hugged her. ‘You’re beautiful. The guy has good taste.’
She snorted. ‘I’m average at best and he must have thought I was easy in that get-up.’
Abby frowned and tut-tutted. ‘Why do you put yourself down like that?’
‘Habit,’ Charlotte wanted to say, but she wisely kept silent. Abby had always chastised her for being self-pitying and Charlotte agreed it wasn’t an attractive trait. Didn’t mean it stopped her from lamenting her lack of a love life in her quieter moments.
‘Anyway, I lost my head, had the best sex of my life, then walk into my new boss’s office this morning and realise he’s the hot-sex guy.’
‘I can’t believe this.’ Abby’s eyes widened, her expression awestruck. ‘It’s like something out of those romance novels you devour.’
‘I know, right?’ Charlotte couldn’t help but smirk. ‘Who knew I had an inner vixen?’
Abby squared her shoulders, her nod emphatic. ‘Well, I think it’s great. About time you had some fun.’
‘It’s not going to happen again.’
Despite that tiny, insistent voice deep inside that whispered how great it would be to feel that good again.
‘How did he react when he saw you this morning?’
‘Not surprised.’
Abby startled. ‘You mean he knew? About you working for him?’
Charlotte nodded, anger quashing her momentarily lapse into wistful. ‘Yeah. He’s good at his job. Has a mega reputation in the accountancy world for taking ailing firms and turning them around. So he researched me. In his defence, he said he didn’t recognise me—’
‘I bet he didn’t,’ Abby chortled.
‘I’d taken my hair down and my glasses off before trying on the lingerie, trying to get into some vampy character to see if I’d feel any different, so I guess I didn’t look anything like my work picture.’ She dabbed at pastry crumbs with her fingertip, pushing them around the plate, embarrassed to admit how she’d been role playing for a brief moment in time at that warehouse. ‘He said he only recognised me later, when I used a phrase I’ve been using a lot in our business dealings.’
‘Well, I’m assuming it wasn’t take me now?’
Charlotte shot Abby a death glare and she laughed.
‘He sounds like a bad, bad boy, not telling you the truth immediately when he recognised you.’ Abby snapped her fingers. ‘Hey, isn’t that what you said you wanted before Mak left, a bad boy?’
‘Yeah, be careful what you wish for.’ Charlotte rolled her eyes. ‘Now I have to work with that bad boy for a month and pretend he didn’t rock my world. Several times.’
Abby beamed. ‘You go, girl.’
Charlotte managed a wry smile. ‘The only place I’m going right now is back to work with some of your amazing pastries, so the ratfink can try and buy us off with treats.’
Abby’s smile faded. ‘You’ll be okay, yeah? Working with him?’
‘I’ll be fine,’ Charlotte said, hoping her conviction lasted when faced with the prospect of working one-on-one with her dishy boss for the foreseeable future.

CHAPTER EIGHT (#u6982bd65-25ed-5fe4-a87d-3cbee9cbe4a2)
ALEX FOUND HIS gaze drifting to the elevator all too often as he mingled with staff in their cubicles. Charlotte should have been back by now and the longer she stayed away, the more he wondered whether she had done a runner.
Not that she struck him as the flighty type. Not if her work record was any indication. But if she’d been half as rattled as him after their earlier meeting...
Damn, he hadn’t expected to be so affected by her. He’d been prepared to make his confession, ensure she understood and move on to work. He hadn’t expected to be so confused.
His visceral reaction to seeing her again startled him. His gut had griped like he’d drunk too much fine cab sav when he’d seen her in that professional get-up. There’d been nothing remotely sexy about her skirt, blouse and jacket, but when she’d looked at him—albeit in stunned horror—he’d felt it like a kick in the head.
It had something to do with her eyes. Those cool, grey orbs held a world of secrets and he’d love to discover each and every one.
Yeah, like that was going to happen.
Alex had a job to do. Turn this company around. And Charlotte was a big part of making that happen.
As if thoughts of her had conjured her up, the elevator doors slid open and she stepped out, laden bags in each hand. The staff clearly looked forward to Le Miel’s delights because they flocked to her, quickly taking the bags and heading for the mini conference room where they’d set up cutlery and crockery.
Her gaze homed in on him like a radar and he felt that kick again. It unsettled him and he reacted with a goofy grin. It didn’t go over well if her raised eyebrow and supercilious expression were any indication.
He crossed the office, determined to set her at ease. They had a lot of work to do. ‘Thanks for picking up the morning tea.’ He gestured towards the conference room. ‘Shall we?’
She didn’t respond, other than a curt nod. He much preferred the warm, willing woman he’d held in his arms yesterday but knew her frosty counterpart would be much more conducive to work.
He followed her into the conference room, not surprised when she kept her distance. He chatted with staff, made small talk, discovering that Edgar had worked here the longest, an impressive twenty-four years, that Suzie had five kids, that Viola would happily take a redundancy to go farm alpacas and that Charlotte was the glue that held everyone together.
Staff raved about her, vindicating his choice to make her the new manager. She had smarts, kindness and respect, three traits that would ensure she excelled in the job.
But appointing her in that role meant they’d be working a lot closer together for his time here. The old manager had been responsible for running the place into the ground almost single-handedly and a lot of work had to be done to ensure it prospered again. He was up for the challenge. Would Charlotte be?
If she could barely stand to be in the same room as him, he doubted it.
As some of the workers drifted back to their cubicles, she finally approached him. ‘You did a good thing with this morning tea, thanks.’
‘Good working relations are important to me.’
Her eyes widened imperceptibly, pinning him with what he’d quickly come to recognise as her signature scepticism.
He hadn’t meant it as anything other than what it was: a declaration to foster a solid work ethic. But she glared at him as if he’d made some gross sexual innuendo.
‘We need to talk,’ he said, making a grand show of glancing at his watch. ‘You’re a team leader here and I need to pick your brains about some of the ideas I’ve been kicking around.’
‘Sure.’ Her brisk nod was as terse as her response. ‘I’ve got clients all afternoon so does first thing in the morning suit?’
Usually, he’d insist they work through dinner but in this case he’d be better off keeping his distance for now.
‘Fine, see you at nine.’
She stared at him a second too long, as if she couldn’t quite figure him out. That made two of them. Because as Charlotte stalked out of the conference room, he couldn’t tear his gaze off her ass, the memory of how it had felt in his hands making his palms tingle.
After all his self-talk, he still wanted her.
Not good.
The smart thing to do would be to lock himself away in his office for the rest of the day, but that plan was shot to shit when he reviewed the latest performance reviews.
Staff cuts would have to be made if certain sectors of the company didn’t start shouldering their load.
Which meant he had to play hardball.
He called the staff back into the conference at one and made his usual speech when he arrived at companies like this one.
‘Thanks for taking a few minutes out of your busy day.’ He pointed at the empty conference table. ‘Sorry I didn’t have time to organise a banquet lunch too.’
A few titters echoed through the group and he continued. ‘As you know, I’m here to ensure The Number Makers becomes a viable company moving forward and the go-to accountancy firm in Sydney’s eastern suburbs. To do that, the profit margins need to improve alongside work productivity.’
He paused, letting the implication sink in. He heard the sharp intake of breaths, the furtive glances, the stricken expressions. This part of his job sucked.
‘I’m still in the process of reviewing all personnel’s billable hours but I won’t sugar-coat this. Cuts may need to be made.’
A paper clip bouncing off the carpet could have been heard at that point, the silence was that profound.
‘Rest assured, that will be my last resort, but I wanted to be upfront with you on the first day so we all know where we stand.’
Feeling like an ogre trampling Lilliputians, he tried his best reassuring smile. By the number of round eyes fixed on him, it didn’t work.
‘I’ll be moving forward with a plan of action over the next week. In the meantime, keep up the good work.’
Damn, that sounded trite and condescending, considering he’d virtually threatened some of their jobs. He’d avoided making eye contact with Charlotte during his little speech but as the staff trickled out of the room, he couldn’t resist.
Her reaction surprised him. That gleam in her eyes almost looked like admiration, before she turned her back and followed her co-workers out.
It gave him hope. Maybe this could work out after all.
If only he could stop staring at her cute ass.

CHAPTER NINE (#u6982bd65-25ed-5fe4-a87d-3cbee9cbe4a2)
WHEN ALEX HAD called the staff into the conference room at lunchtime, Charlotte had expected a pep talk.
She’d been impressed by his team-bonding exercise at morning tea and hadn’t been afraid to tell him. It boded well that they’d resorted to polite indifference. She could do this. Work alongside him. Without constantly thinking about how damn incredible he’d felt inside her.
Yikes. That was the fifth time this afternoon she’d let her mind slip back to yesterday. She blamed him. If he didn’t keep strutting around the office looking delectable in a navy suit, pale blue shirt and trendy stripy tie, she wouldn’t be reminded of how hard his muscles had felt beneath that suit when she’d hung on for the ride of her life.
‘Not helping,’ she muttered as she prepared for the last client of the day. A call-up that she usually would have postponed until tomorrow considering she’d officially clocked off thirty minutes ago.
But with Alex’s less than encouraging speech ringing in her ears, she needed to prove her indispensability and what better way than working late?
Her co-workers had skedaddled at five, either too intimidated by Alex’s threatening speech or too stupid to care. Whatever their reasoning, it didn’t affect her. She had a job to do: to prove to the boss she’d inadvertently shagged that she’d become essential to taking the company forward.
Hopefully, taking on an unexpected client and working late would go some way to convincing him she’d do whatever it took to consolidate her position.
She also had an ulterior motive. If she impressed him with her work and appeared keen to toe his new company line, it would show him she’d forgotten their encounter. That it meant little in the grand scheme of their working relationship.
Utter bollocks, but it was her excuse and she was sticking to it.
Her new client turned out to be an ex-rugby league player who needed a new accountant to manage his business interests, a string of lucrative pubs. He dwarfed her office with his height and broad shoulders, which she couldn’t help but notice in the vest top he wore, with shorts that accentuated well-toned legs.
In the past she’d surreptitiously ogle a guy like this, lamenting the fact he’d never notice a girl like her beyond her mathematical skills. But today, something had changed. The client openly flirted with her—and she enjoyed it.
Maybe the wild sex she’d had with Alex had given her a much-needed confidence boost, maybe wearing sensuous satin underwear for the first time made her meet the guy’s eye when she’d usually look away. Whatever it was, she liked feeling this empowered. It boded well for chasing her dream.
‘You’ve done a great job with keeping accurate records.’ She turned the computer screen towards him. ‘This is the program we use so whatever you need, don’t hesitate to get in touch.’
His wolfish smile revealed a row of startlingly white teeth. ‘Does that include calling you after hours?’
Her inner vixen did a little shimmy that he’d be remotely interested in her ‘after hours’.
Her inner accountant shut down that vapid vixen quick smart.
‘I’m available to answer your accountancy questions from nine ’til five.’
‘Pity,’ he said, his grin widening. ‘If you ever fancy a drink, drop by one of my pubs and the staff will let me know you’re around.’
‘Thanks.’ She stood to escort him to the door. ‘But I don’t mix business with pleasure. It’s unprofessional and you wouldn’t want someone like that handling your finances.’
He managed a rueful shrug while she hoped her nose wouldn’t grow from telling that whopping great lie.
Because she had mixed business with pleasure, even if she hadn’t known it at the time, and she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Worse, how it might feel to do it again.
‘I’ll be in touch,’ she said, waiting until the elevator doors had slid shut to toe off her shoes, pick them up and head to her office to pack up her things.
She’d almost reached her office when Alex’s door flung open and she jumped. ‘I thought you’d left with everyone else?’

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