Natalie Anderson - In Bed With Her Tall, Sexy Handsome Boss - All Night with the Boss / The Boss's Wife for a Week / My Tall Dark Greek Boss

‘It’s really such a dream for you?’

‘Oh, yeah. It’s all those years of having to watch Coronation Street, I guess.’

‘Coronation Street ?’ he echoed blankly. ‘But that’s Manchester!’

She giggled. ‘Oh, Eastenders, then, whatever. All those royal variety shows; we get them all, you know.’ She turned to look at him, wanting him to understand. ‘It’s so great here. Anything you want to do you can do in London, everything is here for the taking.’ She gestured widely with her hands.

He looked at her and smiled straight back into her eyes, and her breath caught, he had the most magnificent smile. Her heartbeat accelerated alarmingly. She looked away, hurriedly dampening the attraction raging in her.

‘You sound like such a tourist, all that fresh-eyed enthusiasm,’ he teased.

‘What’s wrong with that? It’s good to have some passion.’ Flirt alert—she willed serenity to return to her mind and body.

‘I agree. Are you as enthusiastic and passionate in other areas of life?’

She threw him a mock-evil look knowing she’d asked for that one. He grinned wickedly back at her.

She took a breath and played safe. ‘I love walking past the Tower each day, laughing at those other tourists getting ripped off by the most expensive ice-cream man in the world!’

‘Really?’ He laughed.

She nodded. ‘He has his van there by Dead Man’s Hole. The most shocking prices.’

‘Hmm. But I bet he’s not as expensive as the gelato man by Ponte Vecchio in Florence.’

‘Really? In Florence?’ She sighed longingly. ‘I didn’t make it there. I’d love to go.’

‘It’s beautiful. I’ll take you.’

She raised a brow at him, hoping her façade was as cool as her insides were hot. ‘Will you, now?’

He nodded. ‘You have to see Botticelli’s Venus. You’re a dead ringer.’

There was a silence as she absorbed the compliment. Botticelli’s masterpiece hung in the Uffizi gallery. His depiction of Venus was one of the world’s most famous works of art. Generation after generation admired the beauty of her. Lissa was amused, ‘incorrigible flirt’ was definitely the way to describe this guy. The trouble was, she couldn’t help but enjoy it.

‘Oh, you are good,’ she cooed.

He smiled back winningly. ‘And is it working?’

Yes, she thought, most definitely. ‘That’s for me to know…’ she began.

‘And for me to find out,’ he finished. ‘Good.’

What did ‘good’ mean? Had she just issued the man a challenge?

They entered St Katharine’s Dock and she directed him to her building. Part of her wanted to escape the car as quickly as possible, but a good half of her wanted to stay and explore ‘possibilities’ with Karl as Gina had suggested. Then again, he might not really be interested. He might just have been working on his ‘rapier-like wit and charm’. She glanced at him and realised he was watching her, an amused smile flitting around the corners of his mouth.

She stiffened. Had her internal debate been written all over her face? Probably. She strove for dignity. ‘Thanks very much for the ride home. It was very kind of you.’

‘No problem. It was a pleasure.’ He replied equally formally.

She undid the seat belt and opened the door, sliding out. Surprised, she saw he was mirroring her actions. He walked round to stand beside her.

‘I thought I’d see you to your door,’ he explained. ‘I wasn’t sure you could manage the stairs.’

She looked up at him, amazed. ‘Of course I can. What do you think I am? Blind drunk?’ Far from it, but she had to admit she did feel wobbly. Food, she reasoned. It was lack of food, not the proximity of the male in front of her.

‘No, but maybe a little tired.’ He laughed. It had the effect she was getting used to, making her meltingly vibrant. ‘Aren’t you?’

He was standing too close. She stood looking up at him, mesmerised as he came even closer.

‘If you’re quite sure you can manage, I’ll leave you,’ he said softly, still coming nearer.

‘Uh-huh,’ she replied, rooted to the spot. He was gorgeous. Tall, sexy, fun. She knew she should be marching straight up those stairs pronto, but she just couldn’t seem to get her legs to work. She stared up at him spellbound.

He reached out and stroked her hair gently. ‘Bye, beautiful,’ he whispered. Then he slid his hand down to the back of her neck in a loose caress, bent his head and kissed her.

It was the merest touch, light as a feather. Soft, warm, sweet, his lips just grazed hers. Then he broke the contact. She drew a sharp breath, her senses kick started and just when she knew she wanted more he returned, stealing the initiative, with full pressure. Firm, insistent, delightful. His hand cradled the back of her neck, his thumb stroking gently. Small sweeps upwards that had her softening, leaning closer, wanting yet more. She felt the weight and warmth of his other hand as it came to rest on her lower back. She wanted to touch him. She couldn’t help but kiss him back. Her mind wouldn’t focus on the fact that this was a really bad idea. It was only interested in the sensations he was stirring.

The hands she had raised in a defensive gesture didn’t push him away. Instead they slid up his chest, feeling the soft wool jumper and the hard muscle it sheathed, and reached around his neck. It was warm and smooth. He stepped closer so their bodies touched, length to length. The impact was so pleasurable she gasped. Opening her mouth to his she tasted him. Their tongues met and entwined and her mind blanked out completely. Her body reacted instinctively, her breasts tightening, tensing, her mouth softening, ripening, wanting him in. Eyes closed, she breathed in the faint lemony scent that was so heady and delicious. Her fingers curled into his hair and she held him to her. Her toes curled in her sandals and tension swelled. The magnetism, their hold, was unbreakable. The simple goodnight kiss became something much, much more.

His hands stroked down her back, pressing her against him. She loved the feel of his hard body against hers, all of it. She melted, her curves fitting to him. She worked her fingers through his hair and pressed herself against him as much as he did against her. Breathless, she trembled and gloried as he tightened his grip in answer. She felt his hands slide down over her skirt, holding her hips to his. Her bones liquefied and an almost intolerable heat washed through her. His hands stroked lower down the length of her skirt, slid under and back up her legs. His fingers encountered the top of her lace stockings and traced over and onto bare flesh. Skin on skin, incandescent. She heard him groan against her mouth as she moved her hips restlessly.

It was the alarm bell she needed. God, what was she doing? She tore her mouth from his and stepped back. Shocked and embarrassed about the ferocity of the kiss, she was unable to meet his eyes. Instead she looked across at the block of flats, begging her body to calm. She feared that if she looked at him again she would throw herself back into his arms.

He had let her pull back and said nothing, but she was aware of his deepened breathing. Her body clamoured for more of that kind of action. That had not been some chaste farewell kiss, it had been the ignition to a passion that would have led to an explosive encounter with only one conclusion. She was not about to have a one-night stand with her best mate’s friend. Especially when she knew him to be a flirt, a good-time guy. No wonder he was such a phenomenal kisser. He had plenty of experience. Attraction turned to anger, more with herself than at him. He was just doing what came natural; her response hadn’t been. No way could the depth of feeling from that one kiss be natural.