Free The Boss and Her Billionaire by Michelel de Winton

pulled her body closer. “Why would I bother to play those sort of games? Especially with you?”

    Michaela looked him full in the eye. There was no artifice there. Plenty of heat and promise, though. “So you’re not just talking to me to keep me out of the way?”

    “You talked to me last night, and you sat at dinner with me, too. I didn’t make you.”

    His earlier conversation in the canteen line played over in her head again. What had he actually said? It wasn’t Dylan who had promised to keep her out of the way of the others. He’d just nodded and smiled,
    perhaps humoring the other dancer the same way he humored the hungry female guests. Her heart
    hiccupped at the thought.

    “If you don’t want to talk, we can just dance. You really aren’t all bad on the dance floor,” he said.

    Good idea. She was just digging herself into a hole here. What a bitch she’d been—pumping him for
    advice, using him as a shield when she saw the captain at dinner, and then believing everything some
    practically teenaged dancer had said.

    Michaela tried to take the compliment gracefully and be a grown up. “Thanks, although I don’t have any of your training. It obviously makes a huge difference.”

    Nodding, he gave her an odd look.

    “I can see why all the women have been hogging you,” Michaela continued. “There’s something about
    the way you move.”

    Dylan’s eyes seemed to smolder at the compliment. “Is there, now?”

    She gave his shoulder what was meant to be a playful slap, though it turned into something more like
    a…oh hell, she was stroking him. He had such nice shoulders. She forced her fingers to behave. “Don’t be a pig. I meant what I said earlier at the rehearsal, you’re a great dancer. I should know. I’ve seen hundreds.”

    Shut up.

    Why was she building his ego up like this? Okay, maybe he didn’t agree with the other dancers that she was useless on the dance floor, but she didn’t need to massage his obviously well-endowed self-esteem.
    He’d kissed her just to prove a point, for goodness’ sake.

    Maybe he needed a little lesson in humility. Yes, maybe. Well, her activity schedule was definitely going to give him that. So why didn’t she feel smug about it anymore?

    Because you like him.

    She sure liked the way he made her feel. Feminine and delicate, like she needed protecting, rather than like the cold-hearted bully some of her other staff made her out to be. She wriggled her closer, feeling his hand tighten on her back in response.

    The song finished, but Dylan made no move to let her go. “I didn’t see you demonstrating to anyone
    there,” she said.

    Her heart sped up at the look he gave her. “It was just an excuse, really. I needed to get out of there, and no one is going to interrupt me dancing with you.”

    “You really don’t have to look after me to keep me off everyone’s backs,” she said, repeating herself because she felt a little guilty about all the activities she had given him in order to keep him out of her way.

    “Well, it seems a good way to while away the hours. And at least we might have a normal conversation, you know, rather than talking about what Demi Moore Twittered or something equally inane,” Dylan
    said wryly.

    “Are you calling me old?”

    “I think you’re probably the perfect age.”

    The easy conversation disarmed her, and every time Michaela looked into those eyes she melted a little more in his arms. Damn. This was not how it was supposed to go.

    They kept dancing through the next two tracks, but then she noticed a number of the remaining
    passengers giving her frosty looks. “I think it’s time for me to call it a night,” she said.

    “Yeah, I guess it’s quite late,” Dylan said. “Perhaps I’ll call it a night, too.”

    “I don’t think you’ll be allowed to.” She indicated the closest group of staring women.

    “You sure I have to?” he whispered into her hair.

    Michaela stiffened. His