replaced it with his own.
“You don’t have to do this,” she argued.
Justin ignored the comment. “No wonder you’re hurting. Talk about tense. Relax,” he commanded, and began to massage her shoulders. Determined to prove to himself that his earlier reaction to Kim had been a fluke, a momentary aberration caused by spending too much time at work and neglecting his social life, he went to work on those stiff muscles. Satisfied that, by analyzing the situation, he now had any earlier sexual attraction he’d experienced toward Kim firmly under his command, Justin skillfully tackled the mass of knots along her spine. Using his thumbs, he applied pressure to a particularly tight spot between her shoulder-blades and began to knead it.
“This really isn’t necess— Oh…”
His control slipped a notch at the sounds coming from Kim. Steeling himself, Justin reminded himself this was Kim Lindgren. Kim his assistant. Kim his right hand. Kim, whom he had no right to think of as a woman. But when she moaned again, his body reacted. Desire fisted in his gut, sent heat firing through his veins.
So much for being a master of control, Justin decided. Calling himself ten kinds of fool, he tortured himself further by inching closer and breathing in her scent. Roses, he thought as he dragged in another whiff. Since when had the scent of roses become a turn-on?
But he forgot all about the way she smelled when Kim tipped her head forward, giving him further access to her neck. Although he knew he was playing with fire, he reached for the strands of hair trailing her nape. They slid across his fingers like wisps of silk and did nothing to cool his blood.
The sight of that pale strip of skin where the edge of her blouse ended sent another wave of heat rushing through him. Before he could stop himself, he moved his fingertips along her bare neck. Soft and warm was all he could think. And before he could shut off the voice in his head, he heard the question. Would she be this soft and warm all over?
“You have magical hands,” Kim murmured.
The husky timbre of her voice stripped off another layer of his control. “Kim, I—”
The sound of the elevator bell in the hall outside the suite sent sanity rushing back. Saved by the bell, Justin thought, and dropped his hands to his sides. Taking a step back, he dragged in a steadying breath just as the building’s chief of security entered the suite.
“Evening, Mr. Connelly. Ms. Lindgren,” Tom Jenkins said.
“Good evening, Tom,” Justin told the other man.
“Hi, Tom,” Kim said softly.
“I’m just making my rounds. You folks going to be here awhile longer?”
“I’ll be here for another hour or so, but Ms. Lindgren is leaving now. As a matter of fact, I’d appreciate if you’d see her to her car.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Connelly.”
“But, Justin, my notes—”
“Can wait until tomorrow,” he said briskly. “You’ve put in enough hours for one day. Go home, Kim. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Kim’s expression fell, and he could have sworn it was disappointment he read in those blue-green eyes. But before he could change his mind, he turned on his heels and retreated to his office, where he sat down at his desk and dropped his head into his hands.
Talk about close calls. He was lucky, Justin assured himself. He’d come dangerously close to crossing the line with Kim just now, and tomorrow he would be grateful he hadn’t done so. Because if he’d kissed her as he’d wanted to do, he had no doubt he would have made a major mistake on both a personal and a business front. Silently patting himself on the back, he told himself he’d done the right thing. He’d done the noble thing. He’d walked away when every instinct in him had wanted to pull her close, taste her mouth.
Yes, he was lucky, he reiterated. They both were. Lifting his head, Justin stared unseeingly at the work spread out across his desk. And as the memory of Kim’s scent, the feel of her skin came back to haunt him, Justin grimaced and decided that sometimes doing the honorable thing really sucked.
Two
Justin was just being kind. Don’t read anything into it.
Kim repeated the words like a litany—just as she had been doing since she’d left the office hours earlier. Not that it seemed to be doing her much good, she admitted. Because, try as she might, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the way Justin had been looking at her just before Tom’s arrival. Not as a boss would, but the way a man looks at a woman. A woman he wants. And she’d felt the heat of those oh-so-serious hazel eyes trained on her like a caress.
Even now, just remembering that look in his eyes made her shiver with excitement, with longing. Despite her limited experience with men, she knew desire when she saw it. And it had been desire she’d read in Justin’s eyes. Desire for her.
Her. Plain, polite and boring Kimberly Lindgren.
A ripple of pleasure raced over Kim even as that nagging voice inside her reared its head and warned her not to be foolish, not to delude herself by believing that Justin would ever see her as anything more than his assistant.
Be realistic, she told herself. The man was a Connelly. A member of one of Chicago’s most prestigious families. Wasn’t he just voted one of the city’s most eligible bachelors? The man dated models, socialites, gorgeous women—not nobody secretaries with less than sterling pedigrees.
But, lying in the darkness of her bedroom with morning still hours away and her thoughts so filled with Justin, she ignored the warning voices. For once she didn’t want to be the sensible and level-headed Kim Lindgren. Instead she wanted to relish the memories of how Justin had looked at her, touched her. Snuggling beneath the covers, she squeezed her eyes shut and allowed herself to relive those magical moments at the office with him. The feel of his hands—so strong, yet gentle. The warmth of his breath tickling her neck as he stood behind her. The hot, hungry look in his eyes when she’d turned around and met his gaze.
Kim clasped her hands to her throat as the image of his face swam before her closed lids. He’d been standing so close to her, close enough that she could see the faint trace of stubble darkening his chin. Close enough for her to smell the woodsy and spicy scent that he always wore. Close enough for her to feel the warmth of his body just inches from her own.
Her heart raced. That ache she got low in her belly whenever she dreamed of how it would be to have Justin hold her in his arms, to have him tell her that he loved her as she loved him, started anew. “And the chances of that ever happening are about as likely as Chicago getting snow in July,” she muttered as sanity returned at last.
Grabbing her pillow, she flopped over onto her stomach and ordered herself to go to sleep. And in sleep she allowed herself to play out the fantasy as she never dared do when she was awake. In the safety of slumber she imagined the feel of his mouth—hot and hungry on hers—tasting her, filling her, and then the sound of his voice as he whispered words of love and called out over and over, “Kim…Kim…”
“Kim? Kim, did you hear me?”
The impatient note in Justin’s voice startled Kim from her musings. Embarrassed to be caught daydreaming, she looked up and found a somber Justin
