reappear at any moment she dressed in a flash, a surprising achievement considering that her hands were shaking as much as her legs. Switching on her phone, she saw that it was eight a.m. And she already had five missed calls from Jamie.
Oh God, Jamie.
It was like a thump in her stomach. The warm glow that had surrounded her when she’d woken had vanished and all that was left was cold panic.
What had she done? From the moment she’d put her hand on Lucas’s shoulder, she hadn’t given her life a single thought. It had all been about the moment, not about what would happen afterwards. With a groan of remorse, she sank onto the edge of the bed.
‘This looks like a serious case of morning-after regret to me.’ A dark male drawl came from the doorway and Emma gave a start because she’d been hoping for some time to pull herself together before having to face him and now there was no hope of that.
This was a scenario she’d never had to handle before and she was clueless.
She looked at him and felt her stomach drop. He was insanely attractive. Not just good-looking, but truly gorgeous in a deliciously sexy, bad boy sort of way, with those strands of dark hair flopping over his forehead and his jaw unshaven. Was it wrong to wish he hadn’t decided to leave the bed before she woke? Wrong to wish they’d woken together?
Sex with him had been unforgettable.
And that was the problem.
He was her boss. She had to forget it. She had to ignore that tiny, ridiculous part of her that just wanted to resign on the spot and see if this thing between them could go somewhere. She had to ignore that part of her that wanted to forget the professional so that they could pursue the personal. That would have been crazy and impulsive and she was neither of those things. She had responsibilities. Commitments. She always made sensible decisions and the sensible decision was to lock last night away in her brain and forget it had ever happened. She had to forget everything personal that she knew about him.
The question was—how?
She wondered if he was asking himself the same question but one glance at his face told her that he wasn’t. There was no doubt or uncertainty there. Nothing that suggested that what they’d shared had meant anything to him but a way of getting through a bad time. There was no evidence now of the unspeakable agony she’d witnessed the night before. Whatever dark, savage emotions had gripped him in the bitter cold of the night had been chased away by the morning light. Lucas Jackson was back in control, those secrets buried deep under layers of self-discipline.
She, however, felt emotionally and physically wrecked.
He was already dressed, in black jeans and a black sweater that added emphasis to powerful shoulders. His choice of clothes was casual, and yet there was still an innate sophistication about him, an effortless style that was evident in everything he did.
Through her moment of panic came the memories. Memories of how those shoulders had felt under her fingers, the ripple of male muscle and hard strength. Memories of how it had felt to touch him and be touched. Strange, she thought, how even that unscheduled glimpse of vulnerability hadn’t seemed like weakness. There was nothing weak about this man.
They hadn’t even talked about it, she realised. Not really. All she knew was that he blamed himself for the death of his daughter. Other than that she had no details and, judging from the grim set of his mouth, he had no intention of offering any.
This was the man she knew. The Lucas Jackson she recognised. And of course that made it worse, because this man was her boss.
Which really only left her with one course of action.
Emma stood up slowly, as if by taking her time a miracle might happen and she might somehow know what to say. And he was obviously waiting for her to speak. That intense blue gaze, always more perceptive than most people’s, held hers for longer than was comfortable. And although it seemed shallow to care about such things, she was acutely conscious of how appalling she must look. She had that exhausted, gritty-eyed feeling that followed a night of seriously reduced sleep so she knew she’d be pale. And she knew she’d look rumpled because, although she’d pulled on clothes, she hadn’t had time to do more than smooth her hair and after the way he’d treated it the night before it tumbled in a wild mess over her shoulders.
As awkward moments went, this one reigned supreme.
‘Hi. Good morning—’ Oh God, this was awful. She cleared her throat, thinking that it was impossible to sound businesslike when faced with a man who had intimate knowledge of every part of your body. ‘I just need to make a quick phone call and then I’ll be out of your way.’
The last thing she wanted was to talk about what had happened, so she was relieved when he said nothing. Instead, he continued to study her as if he were seeking an answer to something. And Emma soon discovered that his scrutiny was every bit as uncomfortable as any conversation would have been. The way he was looking at her unsettled her so badly that in the end she turned away and rescued her shoes from their place in front of the fire. The snow had made a mess of them, but at least they were dry and putting them on gave her something to do and made her feel more dressed, somehow.
Wanting to escape as fast as possible, knowing that she was already going to be in trouble, she dug her hand in her bag and pulled out her phone. ‘I need to call Jamie,’ she muttered, ‘and tell him I’ll be back later. He’ll be worried that I didn’t make it home last night. He’s already called this morning but my phone was off.’
‘Are you sure he’ll be worried? You’re that close, are you?’ His hard tone held a hint of scepticism and she looked up, shocked and confused by the question.
Was this just about the fact he was annoyed with her for staying when he’d wanted to be alone? Was he cross that he’d woken to find that someone was the wrong side of his castle moat?
‘Of course. I did tell him I’d be late but he wasn’t expecting me to not make it home at all.’
Those blue eyes didn’t shift from her face. ‘And how is he going to feel when he finds out you had sex with me?’ His blunt question was so unexpected she gave a soft gasp.
‘Well, obviously I won’t be mentioning that part.’
One dark eyebrow lifted and the faintest of smiles touched his hard mouth. That same mouth that had kissed her to oblivion the night before. The same mouth that had caressed its way down her shivering, compliant body. ‘If that’s your plan then you’d better learn not to blush or he’ll see right through you.’
Suddenly she was angry with him. And yes, with herself. It was embarrassingly unsophisticated to have a morning-after encounter with a face the shade of a tomato, especially when he seemed to be treating the whole episode with something that came close to indifference. No romantic words then, she thought numbly. No soft smiles or gentle touches to smooth the transition from passionate to professional. And maybe she should be grateful for that, Emma thought, as she strived to match his detached approach. She would have liked to look calm and businesslike and sail out of his life with her dignity intact but she knew there was very little chance of that. ‘Jamie doesn’t think the way you do.’
‘No?’ His expression revealed nothing of his thoughts. ‘What if you’re wrong? What if he guesses?’
‘Why would he guess? It’s not exactly the sort of thing we talk about.’
‘And
