Nikki Logan - Her Enemy With Benefits - Her Deal with the Devil / My Boyfriend and Other Enemies / Blind Date Rivals

Maybe even before, considering her mum had spent every Saturday afternoon poring over the company’s finances and making Sapphie sit next to her.

When kids her age had been riding their scooters or playing netball on the weekend, she’d been tagging along on buying expeditions, or scouting the opposition, or hanging around at fancy tea parties, listening to her mum talk shop.

Sure, she’d learned to love Seaborns, and had strived to gain great grades to enter her chosen Economics and Management degree, but over the years it had become ingrained to maintain a calm outer persona. To pretend everything was right with the world. When in fact she’d had bad hair days and hated the school bully and crushed on the football captain.

That persona would serve her well now, when she had to sit next to Patrick during a preview and pretend he hadn’t just rocked her world again.

What he’d done…What she’d let him do…

Her fingers convulsed, digging into her thighs. She’d never been wild or wanton. Maybe that was her problem. When an experienced playboy like Patrick glanced sideways at her she was ready to jump him.

She blamed Ruby and all that talk of getting laid. Sure, it had been a while since she’d been with a guy, but she hadn’t really been interested, what with the fatigue.

Ironic that coming back to work and throwing herself into this campaign was all about physically proving she could handle leading Seaborns, but what if there was a better way to test her endurance? Or at least a more fun way?

For she had little doubt sex with Patrick would involve an aerobic capacity workout to push her to the limit.

As if sensing her wicked, wayward thoughts he cast her a glance, which she deftly deflected by pretending to concentrate on the models strutting into the room.

Thankfully he returned to muttering into his smartphone, dictating changes and minor adjustments on the gowns to follow up later: hem too low here, stray seam there. He was so focussed, so tuned in to his work, she couldn’t help but stare a little.

He’d surprised her. She’d wondered if he could pull off his mega idea for old-world Hollywood glamour, and by the looks of the early designs he’d come through in a big way.

It pained her to admit, even to herself, that she’d doubted him. But she had, and now she was going to have to eat her words.

How could the guy who’d laughed his way through school before absconding to Paris be responsible for these exquisite designs?

She glanced at the models, poised in a holding pattern on a makeshift runway, stunned anew by the colours and gowns before her eyes.

A riot of rich hues: deep crimson, emerald, peacock-blue. Lush satins, shimmering silks. Strapless evening gowns. Timeless cocktail frocks. Curves and class. Absolutely stunning.

Patrick might not have personally drawn the designs, but he’d come up with the concept, had supervised the designers night and day to get them to this point.

Not only did the guy have a sound business head, he had creativity to burn.

And not just for this fashion show.

She resisted the urge to squirm in her seat—and tried to ignore the occasional brush of his shoulder against hers or the touch of his thigh pressing close as he leaned over to point out a minor detail. Perfectly innocuous actions that shouldn’t have made her burn but she did. For him. With an unrelenting heat that sparked every time he touched her and shot off at tangents throughout her body, zapping and scalding and corroding her resistance slowly but surely.

This wasn’t good.

Their bathroom interlude should have taken the edge off her sudden interest in seeing him naked.

Instead it had put her on some heightened awareness where having him near sent her pheromones into overdrive.

The preview concluded way too quickly. Serge departed and the models filed out after him, leaving her rueing the approaching time where she’d have to do some fast thinking, fast talking, or both.

She’d had an orgasm.

In Fourde Fashion’s boardroom.

With an unlocked door.

Seconds before people had come traipsing in.

It had been phenomenal, but the fact she was becoming like him—reckless, live in the moment—was not good.

That might have been one of her goals after leaving Tenang—to make the most of every second and not dwell on things she couldn’t change—but now she had Patrick urging her, how far would she go to test her newfound strength?

Pushing it physically was one thing, but seeing how far she could push with Patrick…

Danger with a capital D.

For sex with a guy like him could become addictive, and she had no intention of getting hooked.

‘Thoughts?’

He really didn’t want to know.

By the amused glint in his eyes, maybe he did.

She took a deep breath and pushed her notepad towards him. ‘On what you’ve done? Amazing. Here are a few things I jotted down to capitalise on the theme you’re going for.’

He sped read her dot-point list, nodding thoughtfully, pen tapping against the pad, so absorbed in business that she wondered if she’d dreamt the whole dirty-talk orgasm incident.

‘Great pick-ups. I’ll get onto Serge right away to get the designers to incorporate.’

He glanced up and her heart leapt.

‘Sure Ruby’s the only creative genius in your family?’ He pointed at the list. ‘These are insightful suggestions.’

Chuffed by his praise, she shrugged. ‘This coming from the guy who has single-handedly come up with an amazing concept and is seeing it through to the most glorious designs I’ve ever seen.’

He winked. ‘Flattery will get you everywhere.’

That was what she was afraid of.

Now was the time she had to lay down the law about mixing business with pleasure, about setting boundaries. But with her body still humming and her mind still reeling at how sexual he made her feel, maybe now wasn’t the best time.

He touched her arm, the barest brush of his fingertips against her skin, and she jumped.

‘Your reaction just answered my next question.’

‘What’s that?’

‘That until we get this thing out of our systems are we going to be useless working together?’

She should disagree. Should give him a spiel about her ability to remain professional and focussed at all times.

Totally hypocritical, considering she’d almost screamed his name less than thirty minutes ago.

‘What do you suggest?’

‘Damned if I know.’ He pinched the bridge of his nose. It did little to clear the frown above it. ‘We have three weeks left ’til Fashion Week, so the next seven days are crucial in finalising the designs and incorporating changes.’

No argument there.

‘That means we both need to work our butts off without interruptions.’ He sent her a pointed glare. ‘Or distractions.’

‘Hey, I’m not the one going around…’ She trailed off, unwilling to articulate exactly what he’d been doing to her. ‘So you’re saying we work apart?’

Was that even feasible with the workload they had?

He nodded, and while her head said this was the perfect solution, her body wailed a loud, resounding nooooo!

‘We talk on the phone, e-mail, Skype. But this?’ He gestured to the limited space between them. ‘Too distracting when I can’t keep my hands off you.’

His declaration soothed her wailing body somewhat.

‘But some time in the future, when the campaign is done…’ He snagged a tendril curling around her ear and wound it slowly around his finger, caressing the top of her ear, tracing its shape, sending a shiver of longing vibrating downwards. ‘We play.’

How two words could hold so much promise she’d never know.

‘Define play.’