Nicola Marsh - Contract To Marry

He stifled a grin. Though she hadn’t told him anything he didn’t already know, he’d been surprised that his employees felt that way about him. He knew he’d lost his spark, feeling as if he was just going through the motions most days. He wished he could be more like Sean, able to shun his responsibilities and travel the world in search of the next best thing. But he couldn’t. He’d seen his father do that and look how that had ended, with both his parents dead in the process.

So he trudged along, throwing himself into his work yet knowing that he’d become more and more introverted along the way. He rarely socialised, dated or went out any more, unless it pertained to business, and it obviously showed. All work and no play had definitely made him a dull boy—with a woman like Fleur around, maybe it was time to change all that?

‘OK, let’s say for argument’s sake that you’re right. How are you going to get me to loosen up?’ Darcy couldn’t wait to hear this.

She fiddled with the top button on her jacket, drawing his attention to the hint of black camisole underneath. And just like that, Darcy knew exactly how his delicious new employee could help him loosen up while simultaneously chastising himself for fantasising about the unattainable.

For that was what Fleur was—he couldn’t dare let himself get close to her, for she was the epitome of every characteristic he’d schooled himself to avoid: brash, daring to be different, needing to break out of a mould. She was just like Sean and his father and he’d be damned if he ended up like them. Living for the moment ended in pain and he’d learned to block out anything—or anyone—that could instigate that emotion.

‘You need to have fun. I’m going to show you the ropes.’ She stood and gathered her bag and laptop. ‘Meet me out the front of this building at eight tomorrow morning. And wear something casual.’

He watched her stride towards the door, admiring her slim legs and the way her skirt hugged her butt, wondering how both would feel beneath his hands.

‘But tomorrow’s Saturday,’ he said, wondering if she thought he was such a sad case that they needed to get started on her plan immediately.

She stopped, hand poised on the doorknob. ‘So? Or would you prefer to start tonight?’

He glimpsed the challenge in her eyes, curious to know more and ready to face what she had in mind. ‘The sooner the better.’

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