Free Resisting Nick (Wicked in Wellington) by Kris Pearson

Her eyes met his wicked dark gaze, and the sparkle of sexy suggestion there. He was deliberately winding her up. “Nothing wrong with busy,” she said, looking away.
    “Happy to get busy with you any time, Sammie.” He left a couple of seconds’ silence, then apparently thought better of teasing her further. He pointed to a large squared-off extension on the plans. “I want the living areas there.”
    She cleared her throat, sipped again, and nodded. “Makes sense.”
    “You can see right down to the South Island and across to Kapiti Island. Or you will once we’ve taken some tangled old trees out of the way.”
    She tried to drag her brain onto tree trimming, but that enticing picture of him emerging from the sheets wouldn’t desert her. The slow rhythmic pumping, the way his shoulders bunched and relaxed, the searing sexuality of a beautiful man in his prime doing what he’d been put on earth for.  
    Her internal muscles trembled and twitched as though he was sliding inside her , weighing her down on that tumbled white bed, making her arch up against him with every long languid thrust.  
    She set her half-full mug down on his desk beside a roofing tile catalogue, not daring to look at him. Too real. Too vividly explicit.
    She was grateful when his mobile intruded. He reached across to the desk for it and glanced at the caller ID.  
    “Evan—good timing. How’s it going there?”
    Sammie relaxed enough to pick up her mug again, only half listening to his conversation. Should she leave? But her attention spiked when he said, “Just on our way out now. Will you be there for another half hour? I want you to meet my new P.A., Sammie.”
    He sent her an amused glance, black eyes wandering over her red top. “No, she’s a girl. Can personally guarantee that.”
    She tried not to react. To keep her expression neutral, her smile hidden.  
    “Yup—a brain as well as a body.”
    Her heartbeat stuttered for a moment. He thought that about her?
    “Stop it!” she mouthed at him, but he simply relaxed back into his chair, hooked one foot up onto his other knee, and let his slow grin spread until it was the broadest of smiles. She easily saw why women found him irresistible, but Tyler’s words about him never getting serious clanged a warning in her brain.  
    She’d known it from the start. He was a player, not a serious prospect. That was fine—she didn’t have serious time to spare for him. But a short term affair? A few days of flirtation and no-doubt incredible sex, and then a regretful goodbye before she flew off on her long-delayed travels? That enticing cocky grin positively begged to be kissed.
    “Yup,” he said to the builder, eyes still on her. “We can do that.” He fingered the tile catalogue. “I’ll bring it with me.”  
    He reached for a grey document tube, pushed it across to her, and indicated she was to roll up the plans. She swallowed hard and drained her coffee mug.
    “This one too?” She held up the original old drawing.
    He nodded. “Okay matey, see you in thirty.” He pocketed the phone. “Yes, that one especially.”
    “You should make a copy and keep the original safe. Frame it and hang it in the house when it’s finished.”
    He shot her a considering look and then nodded again. “As I said—a brain as well as a body. Can you copy it for me before we leave?”
    She smiled inwardly at his repeated compliment, left the new plans on the table, and carried the old one out to reception. It took two passes to get the whole image. She made two copies and then trimmed the overlaps, taped the halves together, and returned to Nick’s office.
    “Where can you store this?” She handed him the old version. “Somewhere flat until you take it to the picture framer’s. Or I will, if you like?”
    His dark eyes caressed her as she turned aside, set one copy on top of the new plans, rolled them up, and inserted them in the document tube. Two days ago the sensation had unnerved her.