Free Overtime in the Boss's Bed by Nicola Marsh Page A

noting how his dark haircurled when wet, how the rain added a sheen to his bronzed skin.
    He was incredible. And she’d be spending the night with him. Spare room or not.
    He must have sensed the direction of her thoughts—that or the dribble of saliva escaping her mouth as she drooled over him—for he gave her a gentle shove in the direction of the guest room.
    ‘Go. I’ll take a quick shower, then head downstairs to wait for the repair man and rustle up that hot chocolate.’
    ‘Okay, I’ll meet you down there.’
    He shook his head, reached out to trace a fingertip under her eyes.
    ‘You look beat. Relax up here—go to bed. I’ll leave the drink on the bedside table if you’re asleep.’
    The thought of slipping between clean sheets after a cleansing shower sounded like heaven, yet she hesitated, wondering how she’d ever let him leave the bedroom if he entered it.
    As if to remind her she had the energy reserves of a depleted marathon runner she yawned, unable to stifle another.
    ‘Off you go.’
    ‘Bossy,’ she muttered, tempering it with a grateful smile.
    ‘Don’t you forget it.’
    He waited until she’d opened the bedroom door, giving her a funny half-salute before heading down the corridor, leaving her with residual warmth despite her frozen body.
    She wasn’t supposed to feel anything for this guy. Whatever happened was supposed to be a bit of fun, a transient fling.
    Yeah, right—tell that to her stupid, gullible heart, already half in love with him.

CHAPTER NINE
    C ALLUM knocked softly on the bedroom door before opening it, carefully balancing the supper tray with his other hand. He strained his ears for a response, heard none, and proceeded into the room with caution.
    Logically, silence said Starr had drifted off to sleep, just as he’d advised. But nothing in his life had been logical since this blonde dervish had whirled into his life.
    He’d been thinking about her, replaying their tension-fraught day, when he’d seen lightning strike the cottage and almost had a heart attack on the spot. He’d never moved so fast, even in his championship hockey days, and all he could think as he ran downstairs was let her be all right.
    ‘Callum?’
    She sat up in bed, all mussed and ruffled and adorable, her hair tangled, her eyes blinking, her features blurred by sleep, and he’d never seen a woman so desirable.
    ‘Shh…I’ll leave your supper here.’
    She sat up straighter, rubbed her eyes, and he struggledto keep his eyes from dipping to the tantalising glimpse of cleavage just visible in the gaping vee of her robe.
    She watched him as he neared the bed, and with every step he knew it would damn near impossible to turn around and leave when he’d deposited the tray.
    ‘Smells good.’
    ‘Yeah, it does.’
    He wasn’t talking about the hot chocolate and toasted cheese sandwich. Rather the seductive scent of rose wafted from the bed towards him, wrapping him in a heady cocoon. Other guests had stayed here, had used the toiletries, but none had smelled as sweetly seductive as Starr.
    ‘Here you go.’
    He’d almost completed his mission of leaving the tray and escaping when she rested a hand on his forearm, sending lust licking along his veins.
    ‘Stay.’
    His gaze flew to hers, and he was surprised to see a flicker of fear rather than the desire he wished for.
    ‘What’s wrong?’
    She released him as he sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers plucking at the hand-woven duvet cover.
    ‘It’s silly, but I’ve always been petrified of thunderstorms.’
    ‘You’re safe now. And I’m just down the corridor.’
    He couldn’t stay.
    She was asking too much.
    What did she think he was? A goddamn saint?
    Her teeth worried her bottom lip and he bit back a groan at the swift surge of longing to do the same.
    Uh-uh, there was no way in hell he could stay.
    Then she raised her eyes to his—wide, luminous blue pools filled with vulnerability.
    ‘Please. I need you to hold me.’
    And