Out of Hours...His Feisty Assistant. Heidi Rice

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did as she was told, suddenly at a loss as to what to think. Okay, so they hadn’t slept together, but why was he being so nice to her, then? They’d hardly been on good terms the night before.

      As soon as she tasted her breakfast, Kate’s appetite pushed the doubts to one side in a surge of hunger. She tucked into the light fluffy scrambled eggs, crispy bacon and hot buttered muffins, savouring every delicious bite. She was polishing off her second cup of coffee when she noticed he’d finished his breakfast and was watching her.

      She put down her cup.

      ‘I see you found the robe,’ he said casually. ‘It suits you,’

      Kate looked down at the luxurious blue silk kimono embroidered with a flame-breathing dragon down one side. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she murmured, pulling on the lapels. ‘Whose is it?’

      As soon as she’d asked the question, she wished she could take it back. No doubt one of his other conquests had left the silk robe behind. She knew she had no claim on him, but somehow the thought of sitting in his kitchen in some other woman’s clothes made her lose her appetite.

      ‘I was given it on a business trip to Japan,’ he said, refilling his coffee-cup. ‘Over there, guys wear those things, too. It’s not really my style, though.’ His gaze wandered over her figure. ‘It looks better on you.’

      Kate let out the breath she’d been holding, and then felt annoyed by her reaction. Why should she care who the kimono belonged to?

      She wiped her mouth with her napkin. ‘Breakfast was delicious, Zack. Thanks, it was nice of you.’

      ‘Not really,’ he said, his expression unreadable. ‘I owed you an apology.’

      ‘You did?’ Why did she feel as if she was missing something vitally important here? ‘What for?’

      ‘For behaving like a jerk yesterday morning and last night in the bar.’

      She blinked, surprised by the admission. She had assumed apologies weren’t his style any more than silk kimonos were. ‘Apology accepted, then.’

      Time to leave, she decided, before she let that smouldering look get the better of her again. Popping off the stool, she reached for his plate.

      He took her wrist, stilled her hand. ‘What are you doing?’

      ‘I thought I’d clean up, before I go.’

      ‘No need,’ he said, turning her hand over. ‘The housekeeping staff’ll get it later.’ He stroked his thumb across the pulse point, making her shiver. Then he lifted her hand to his lips and bit softly into the pad of flesh at the base of her thumb.

      A sharp dart of desire shot straight down to Kate’s core.

      ‘Don’t,’ she said, curling her fingers into a fist. She tugged on her hand.

      His eyes locked on hers, making her feel both trapped and needy. ‘Why not?’ he said, his voice gentle but firm. ‘What are you afraid of, Kate?’

      You, she thought, the panic making her throat constrict. It had been hard enough walking away from him yesterday morning. Kind and considerate were the last things she would have expected from him. They pulled at a place deep inside her she didn’t want pulled at. There was nothing between them except one night of spectacular sex, and it would cost her if she ever forgot it.

      ‘I have to go,’ she said, struggling to ignore the jackhammer thumps of her heartbeat. ‘I need to check out of my suite today, and then I have to find another job.’

      He let her hand go, swore under his breath. ‘Why are you so hung up on paying your way?’

      ‘I’m not hung up on it.’ She’d rather die than tell him the real reason—it was far too personal. ‘It’s just, it’s important to me, that’s all.’

      ‘Yeah, I get that.’ Frustration hardened his voice. ‘I was the one who stopped you falling on your face after you’d worked yourself into a coma, remember.’

      The words came out harsher than Zack had intended. When he saw her flinch he could have kicked himself. Here he was trying to persuade her to stick around and he’d blown it, already. How did the woman get him worked up quicker than a wolf at a rabbit convention? He was famous for being smooth with women, and yet with her he found it all but impossible to keep his cool.

      ‘Yes, I do remember,’she said, her shoulders ramrod straight under the floating silk. ‘I also recall you telling me to leave your hotel. Which is what I intend to do, so you won’t have to pick me up off the floor again.’

      ‘Kate,’ he said, aiming for easygoing. ‘I’m not having that same argument all over again.’ Okay, maybe easygoing was going to be a stretch.

      ‘Good, because neither am I.’

      She tried to walk past him. He stepped in front of her.

      Defiance flashed in her eyes but behind it was something else. Something he’d seen the night before when he’d held her. Something that looked a lot like vulnerability. It gave him the cue he needed to say what he had to say.

      ‘I’ve got a proposition for you.’

      Her eyes flared and he had to suppress a grin.

      ‘Not that kind of proposition.’Well, not quite anyway. ‘It’ll be worth your while. I swear. If you’ll sit down and listen.’

      She still looked mutinous.

      ‘Please.’ The word made him feel uncomfortable, but when she huffed and sat back on her stool he figured it had been worth it.

      ‘All right, I’m listening,’ she said, her chin still thrust out.

      She looked stiff as a poker, perched precariously on the edge of the stool, but at least he wasn’t watching her cute rear end walking out the door.

      Now, how to say what he wanted to without setting her off again?

      Luckily for him, he’d spent most of the night giving the problem a whole lot of thought and he had a plan. All he had to do was stick to it.

      When he’d got her up to the penthouse the night before, his first concern had been getting her out of her outfit without waking her up.

      It had been an exquisite kind of torture, the flowery scent she wore making him instantly hard as he’d recalled just how hot and ready she’d been in his arms the previous evening. He’d had no trouble keeping his thoughts G-rated, though, once he’d eased off her shoes and seen the raw, reddened skin on her heels and toes.

      The guilt had swamped him. He’d tried to tell himself it wasn’t his fault that she’d worked herself to exhaustion. He wasn’t the bastard who’d stranded her in a foreign city with no clothes, no money. But he hadn’t quite managed to convince himself. The feeling of responsibility and the urge to keep her safe were as strong, if not stronger, than they had been when he’d carried her out of the bar.

      He’d never met a woman as independent, as self-sufficient as she was or as determined to prove it. And he’d certainly never met a woman

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