Tempted by Her Boss. Scarlet Wilson

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Tempted by Her Boss - Scarlet Wilson Mills & Boon Medical

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strange pallor. ‘It’s only work-related things that make me spontaneously combust, Grace. I can assure you I’m well acquainted with the muffin family.’ He gave her a wicked smile. ‘And from where I was standing you certainly don’t need to worry about calories.’

      She felt her cheeks burn. How would they look in this strange light? Had she just imagined it, or had Donovan Reid just given her a backhanded compliment?

      There was no hiding her curves. She was never going to look like one of the gym bunnies he normally dated. But maybe that wasn’t his preference.

      There hadn’t been time to think earlier. No time to be shy. He’d seen every single part of her—scars and all.

      The thought of his fingers brushing over her shoulder scar sent shivers down her spine. He must have noticed it, but he certainly hadn’t mentioned it.

      He’d seen her ample breasts, rounded stomach and curved hips and thighs. Her backside didn’t even feature in her thoughts. In her head it was her best feature—round enough to rival J-Lo’s. If only she had J-Lo’s matching height...

      There was a hiss of air, doors were opening, items left to be decompressed before the second set of doors opened. Her migraine tablets were pressed into her hands, along with a glass of water, and she swallowed them gratefully.

      Donovan Reid had never struck her as the kind of man to have a good bedside manner. He wasn’t much of a people person—his mind was always focused on the job. He’d been the youngest team leader around here for the last four years.

      And the last few years had been tough. A potential outbreak of smallpox, discovered by an ex-employee, followed by one of the biggest operations the DPA had ever been involved in. Donovan had missed that call by a matter of minutes. She could only imagine how much he’d smarted about that.

      And now another member of his team was pregnant. Jokes had been circulating the office for the last year about a certain swivel chair. Callie Sawyer, Violet Hunter and now Mhairi Spencer had all sat in that chair at some point. Grace and her friends had vowed not to sit in it for the next five years.

      She swallowed her tablets and sighed, leaning back against the pillows. They were softer than she’d thought; she could almost forget about her still damp hair. If she closed her eyes just for a minute, she might feel a little better. She sank down into the comfort zone, tugging the soft blanket up around her shoulders. She could daydream for a few seconds.

      Daydream about what she really would have liked to have happened in that shower. Donovan to give her a cheeky wink and sexy smile, loving her curves and having a look of pure lust in his eyes for her. Donovan, with his light brown curls, chiselled jaw and sculpted body. For her eyes only. Ah, well, a girl could dream.

      She could hear mumbling. Donovan was in deep talks through the glass with Frank. He gave a sigh and walked over to her.

      She sat up. ‘What is it?’

      ‘Oh, good. You’re awake.’

      She rubbed her eyes and looked around. ‘Was I sleeping?’

      He nodded. ‘Just for the last thirty minutes.’

      Great. In the middle of a crisis with the man she wanted to impress and she’d fallen asleep. ‘What have I missed? Has something happened?’

      ‘Yes, well, no. It’s good,’ actually. Frank couldn’t screen the sample until it had been irradiated. At first glance it’s not anthrax and it’s not any form of plague.’

      She let out the breath she hadn’t even realised shed been holding. ‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it? Maybe it’s something stupid. Maybe it’s flour or talcum powder—something like that? Something that means we’ll be okay.’

      He ran his fingers through his already mussed-up hair. ‘It’ll take a few hours before we know anything for sure.’

      She could read in his eyes exactly how he felt about that, he was watching everyone outside rush around. ‘And you can’t stand the thought of being stuck in here? You’re wandering about like a caged animal. Don’t you know the meaning of the word “chill”?’

      As soon as the words were out of her mouth she knew she’d made a big mistake. He whipped around to face her, his eyes as black as coal. His expression matched.

      ‘How can I chill, Grace? The DPA has just received a potential biological hazard through the mail system. No note. No explanation Nothing. Just an Arkansas postmark. Hundreds of people in our department could have been exposed. Hundreds of mail workers could have come into contact with that letter. If this is a biological contagion, this could be a disaster. And you want me to chill? This is my watch, Grace, these people are my responsibility.’

      She gulped. Oh, no. She’d just killed any chance of impressing Donovan Reid. He probably thought she was a dumb-ass schoolkid. All thoughts of powerful thighs and six-packs were flying out of the window, although she reserved the right to conjure them back up in her dreams. She stammered, ‘A-and it’s m-my f-fault—because I opened the package?’

      His eyes widened. ‘Is that what you think? Why on earth would I blame you, Grace? You only did what anyone would do—you opened the envelope.’

      She held out her hands. Her migraine really wasn’t improving. The thirty-minute nap hadn’t helped. The meds hadn’t even touched the edge of her pain. ‘But look at the effect it’s had on the whole department.’

      He shook his head. ‘Don’t read too much into my ranting, Grace. I hate that I can’t be out there, doing more. It doesn’t matter who opened that envelope today, the effect was always going to be the same.’

      He moved over next to her and lifted an electronic BP cuff from the wall, switching on the monitor with his thumb.

      ‘What are you doing?’

      ‘Your migraine isn’t any better, is it?’

      She shook her head as he wrapped the cuff around her arm. ‘I’m doing what any good doctor should. I’m checking your BP. Maybe it’s not a migraine. Maybe it’s something else entirely.’

      Her stomach gave a little flip. Back to the whole ‘you’ve breathed in a contagion and are going to die’ scenario. She was trying to keep that one from her head right now. If this was a tension headache it was only going to get a whole lot worse.

      She felt the cuff inflate, cutting off the circulation to her arm. These darned things always felt as if they overinflated and any minute now her fingers would fall off. After what seemed like for ever it gave a gentle hiss and started to go down.

      Donovan’s eyes stayed on the monitor, watching the figures. He leaned over and pulled the cuff free. ‘Perfect. Your blood pressure is fine.’

      A few minutes later the food appeared and was placed in the decompression section between the doors. After the obligatory number of minutes the second set of doors hissed open and smell of pepperoni pizza and caramel latte wafted into the room.

      Their stomachs grumbled in unison and they both laughed. Donovan opened the pizza box and grabbed a slice. ‘Mmm, delicious. I hadn’t got round to having lunch earlier. I was just about to eat at my desk when someone...’ he gave her the eye ‘...decided to brighten up my day.’

      She

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