Bedded By The Boss. Yvonne Lindsay

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Bedded By The Boss - Yvonne Lindsay Mills & Boon By Request

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breath came in quick gasps and his blood surged along with hers as her heart pounded against his chest. Her eyelashes flickered against the harsh spotlight illuminating their descent to the ground. He knew she was shaken by what had happened, and that only fired the protective instincts tightening his arms around her slender body.

      Slender, yet substantial. Muscled, taut, the body of a woman who knew how to fight for what she wanted.

      And at that moment he knew far too well what he wanted. He was glad the blackness of the night hid the evidence of his desire.

      Why on earth was she struggling in such a childish fashion? She could tell he found her resistance entertaining.

      His arms had closed around her like steel bands, lifting her from the ground against her will. The urge to resist was instinctive, but hopeless against the solid mass of muscle that was Elan. How on earth a businessman came to be built like an ancient Olympian, she could not begin to imagine.

      As she kicked and wriggled, his arms simply tightened more firmly around her in an embrace that clearly demonstrated his superior strength. Heat gathered low in her belly as the hard muscles of his torso crushed against her. His broad hands supported her with an ease that made her feel ridiculously feminine, and she struggled not to enjoy the odd primal pleasure of being gathered and held by such a powerful man.

      At the bottom of the stairs he released her and settled her carefully on her feet. She stumbled back, burning hot, her heart slamming against her ribs, her limbs weak.

      She was ready to get down on her knees and kiss the blacktop as she recalled the sudden rush of terror that had deprived her of her senses as the plane plunged toward the dark runway.

      “Are you all right?”

      “Yes.” She forced out the lie.

      “Can you walk to the car, or would you like me to carry you?” His throaty voice sounded deeper than usual.

      Carry me.

      “I can walk.” Her voice emerged as a squeak.

      She concentrated on putting one wobbly leg in front of the other as Elan took their briefcases from the pilot and strode to his long black sedan. He flung their bags in the back and helped her into the passenger seat before bidding the pilot good-night. Then he settled in behind the wheel and loosened his tie.

      “Your address.”

      “What?”

      “Where do you live? I need to drive you home. Unless you plan on walking.”

      “Oh, of course. Five-fifty Railroad Avenue. You take a right off Main.” She wondered what Elan would think of her rather dingy apartment building. The salary he paid could buy her a nice house, but she had other financial obligations. Last week she’d made the first significant payments on her college loans and on her mother’s gargantuan hospital bill, and that was a far greater concern than any luxury dwelling.

      He drove away from the airport, silent. The dark roads were deserted, the moon dimmed by wispy clouds. Sara gasped as he braked hard.

      “A coyote.”

      She saw the flash of reflective eyes in the headlights as the nocturnal creature studied them for a second before slinking off into the desert.

      “Wow. That scared me.”

      “I’m sure the animal’s fear was greater than yours. The twin moons of our headlights sweeping though the desert must be an alarming sight for the night creatures.”

      “I know how they feel. Apparently I haven’t evolved along with the rest of Western civilization because my body didn’t take too kindly to flying through the air. I’m sorry to cause such a scene at both ends of the trip.”

      “Don’t worry about it.” He turned to her and his warm smile made her suck in an unexpected breath.

       Stop it, Sara!

      Even the gentle pressure of her seat belt made her recall—with a harrowing mix of remorse and pleasure—the far more insistent pressure of Elan’s arms around her.

      He’d removed his jacket to drive and his sleeves were rolled up. One big hand gripped the wheel, holding it steady as they ate up the long, straight road through the empty desert.

      “I’m hungry,” he announced, as they entered the neon-lit oasis of the town.

      “Me, too.” In more ways than one.

      “Let’s pick up something to eat. What would you like?”

      “I don’t know the restaurants. I haven’t bought takeout since I’ve been here.” Trying too hard to squirrel away every penny.

      “The fried chicken is good. And the food at the Mexican place is always fresh.”

      Sara turned to look at Elan, who studied the neon signs with keen interest. Somehow it shocked her that he would eat takeout fried chicken like a regular person.

      “Whatever you prefer.”

      “I believe I prefer steak fajitas.” He turned to her with a raised eyebrow.

      “Sounds good.”

      Yikes. As he pulled up she could see it was a drive-through. Did this mean she should invite him into her apartment to eat it? Or would he expect to drop her off with her dinner and return home to eat his?

      Probably the latter.

      He picked up their food at the drive-through window and handed it to Sara. Lord, she was hungry. The zesty aroma of grilled steak and onions filled the car and made her stomach growl. He chuckled.

      “Your hunger is getting the better of you.”

      Don’t I know it? She shifted in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable as she watched his broad hand settle over the gear shift and push it into Drive. She resisted the urge to fan herself or turn the air-conditioning on full as they pulled back onto the road.

      “We must eat immediately. And I know just the spot.” He sped through the town and back out into the desert.

      Outside town he took a sharp turn toward the mountains. Shrubs and boulders along the roadside cast eerie shadows in the headlights. The road disintegrated into a dirt track as they climbed up toward the veiled moon and stars.

      After only a few minutes he stopped the car and climbed out. Sara gingerly opened the door and lowered a foot onto the sandy ground of the dark desert. A match flared and she followed its glow to Elan. He’d opened the trunk and now lit a small fire a few yards from the car.

      “What are you using for kindling?”

      “Mesquite wood. I keep some in the trunk. The fire will keep animals from joining us for dinner.”

      Okay.

      He spread a blanket on the ground while Sara retrieved their food and drinks from the car. The night was pleasantly warm and the fresh mountain air invigorated her tired body. The city lights twinkled below them in

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