Nicola Marsh - Wild Nights with her Wicked Boss

Before she’d botched it all big time and made a mess of everything.

She’d lied to him. She’d told him the kiss was forgotten when in reality it was all she could think about. She couldn’t forget the feel of his strong hands stroking her arms, his intoxicating outdoorsy-woody smell, those blue eyes heavy with passion, the sight of his lips descending towards hers…

With one last icy blast she turned off the taps and stepped out of the shower. The rush of cold air raised goose bumps over her damp skin; or was her physiological reaction a result of imagining Rhys’s kiss?

Her hands shook as she dried off, the nerves she’d managed to subdue in the shower taking flight again. How on earth was she going to face him today?

No matter how efficiently they’d brushed it off last night, pretended it never happened, she’d have to show up to her first day on the job all perky and bouncy and enthusiastic when inside she’d be a quivering mess.

Shrugging into her robe, her gaze landed on her toiletry bag propped on the bathroom counter.

There lay her answer.

Whenever she’d had to attend a big event in the past, whether afternoon tea with royalty or polo with a prince, she’d ensure she looked her best. Perfect make-up, styled hair, killer outfit. Looking good gave her confidence and if ever there was a time she needed a boost, this was it.

She donned stretch black pants, a sapphire jumper and the latest design in hiking boots, then concentrated on the onerous task of applying make-up. Keeping the colours neutral, she applied a light foundation and translucent powder, outlined her eyes with blue kohl, smudged a bronzed eyeshadow over her lids, whisked the mascara wand over her eyelashes and finished off with a smidgeon of pale pink lip gloss.

Not bad. The make-up provided an excellent confidence mask, though it was difficult to disguise the doubt in her eyes. Her windows to the soul definitely needed some new blinds.

She snacked on a bagel to quell her rolling tummy as she quickly repacked and ten minutes later joined the guys down at the wharf awaiting their JetCat transport. After handing over her backpack to the transport staff, she took a deep breath and headed down the wooden planks.

A long, low wolf whistle heralded her arrival. ‘Look at you.’ Jack gave her a thumbs up, his grin appreciative.

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