Kathryn Ross - Mediterranean Boss, Convenient Mistress

He brushed a finger across the smoothness of her lips. “Whereas this…can’t.”

His hands gently cupped her face as his head lowered toward hers. The touch of his lips against hers and the way he held her as he kissed her felt incredibly sensual and possessive. It was no gentle kiss either; it was powerfully masterful, very dominant. Charlie’s senses swam with desire, and before she could think better of it, she was kissing him back with a hungry response. She was aware that his fingers moved to lace through her hair, controlling her as he thoroughly explored the sweetness of her mouth.

Charlie’s emotions were all over the place as he pulled away. A part of her wanted to go back into his arms, wanted him to continue kissing her. The other part was mortified by how easily she had just capitulated to his caress, by how wantonly she had returned his kisses. He was her boss, for heaven’s sake! This could only lead to disaster.

KATHRYN ROSS was born in Zambia, where her parents happened to live at that time. Educated in Ireland and England, she now lives in a village near Blackpool, Lancashire. Kathryn is a professional beauty therapist, but writing is her first love. As a child she wrote adventure stories, and at thirteen she was editor of her school magazine. Happily, ten writing years later, Designed with Love was accepted by Harlequin ®. A romantic Sagittarian, she loves traveling to exotic locations.

~ HIRD: FOR THE BOSS’S PLEASURE ~

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CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHARLIE opened her eyes and memories from the night before flashed through her mind with agonising clarity. The date had been a complete disaster.

She hadn’t really minded the fact that the man she’d met had turned out to be five feet two instead of six feet two, as he had described himself on his profile, or even the fact that he had been nearer to fifty than thirty…she wasn’t ageist and she didn’t think that looks were the most important things in life. However, his grey pony-tail had been a bit of a turn-off…as had the fact that they had absolutely nothing in common except that they were both divorced.

After the first fifteen minutes the date had gone rapidly downhill. Maybe internet dating wasn’t a good idea. She shouldn’t have allowed her friends to talk her into it.

The alarm clock rang and she reached sleepily to switch it off. A few moments later Jack came running into the bedroom. ‘Time to get up, Mummy,’ he sang in his usual happy tone before bounding into the bed to give her a hug.

‘Morning, darling.’ She kissed the top of his dark silky hair.

‘Nana let me have chocolate and watch TV with her when you went out last night.’

‘Did she?’ Charlie smiled. ‘Nana spoils you to bits.’

If it had been a weekend they would have snuggled down for a little while and chatted. For a four-year-old Jack was a great conversationalist…. probably better than her date last night, she thought with a smile. But this was Friday and there was no time for frivolity.

‘Come on, then we’d better get you ready for school.’

The cottage felt cold, Charlie thought, and she put her hand on the radiator as they padded through to the bathroom. The central heating hadn’t come on, which meant there was very little hot water.

Once she had dressed Jack she went to investigate the problem, but she couldn’t fix it, so it was a job for the plumber again. She dreaded to think how much the repairs were going to cost.

After that there was just time for her to tie her long blonde hair back from her face, grab a piece of toast and flick through the morning post. Bills, bills and more bills…pretty much the norm. The terraced cottage was small but it cost a fortune to maintain.

At the moment Charlie was a PA and worked as a temp for an agency owned by her friend Karen. Her current position working for a doctor of psychology, who was also a bestselling author, was her most profitable assignment to date. But she still found it hard to balance her finances. The truth was that running a house and being a single mum wasn’t easy and at the end of the month there wasn’t a lot left over for luxuries…let alone boiler repairs!

But she would manage, she told herself firmly as they left the house. She always did.

It was a misty September morning and her old car coughed and spluttered before flaring into life. Then Jack pushed a CD into the player and they sang along with some classic love songs all the way through the rush-hour traffic.

Twenty minutes later, with Jack safely ensconced at school, she pulled back out into the traffic. She turned the volume up and hummed along to the CD as she headed for Oxford and her heart lifted. OK, so her date last night had been dreadful and there had been nothing but bills in the post, but she had the best son in the world and at the moment she was working for a very dishy boss. Just thinking about Marco Delmari gave her a little flip of anticipation.

When she had first started working for him she had instantly been attracted to his sizzling good looks. Then reluctantly her common sense had taken over and told her not to even think about it, because the job was too good to put at risk, and besides, she had priorities, she had Jack. Anyway, she realised she wasn’t his type. Marco preferred stick-thin, model-perfect and incredibly glamorous women. She on the other hand was none of those things and, although she had nice hair and skin and large green eyes, unfortunately she had to wear spectacles most of the time at the office; otherwise she couldn’t read the computer screen.

So not even by the flicker of an eyelash had she let him guess she thought he was gorgeous. Instead she had made herself indispensable and politely businesslike, with the result that he sang her praises, and told her how pleased he was that she had streamlined his office system and his diary. And in the last few months they had relaxed around each other and formed a repartee that was very enjoyable.

She glanced at the clock on the dashboard. Marco had to go into London to give a radio interview this morning and she wasn’t sure if she’d see him before he left the office.

She took a few shortcuts down narrow, leafy lanes and arrived outside her boss’s Georgian red-brick house on the outskirts of Oxford ten minutes early. His car was still parked in the courtyard and she felt a flash of exhilaration as she grabbed her briefcase and hurried up the steps to open his front door.