almost ran at that point, the memory of that sexy smile seconds before he’d kissed her all too fresh as she focussed on his lips.
‘You won’t owe me a thing.’
‘Oh, but I will.’
Heck, how had this turned from her doing him a favour to having him in her debt?
With that beguiling smile and heat smouldering in his eyes, she was floundering out of her depth more than ever.
‘Look, just forget it—’
‘Go ahead and take the class. Once you’re done, drop by my office.’
He straightened, brisk and businesslike, and she wondered if she’d imagined the loaded exchange a moment ago.
‘Okay.’
As she turned away he laid a hand on her arm. Her skin burned despite the innocuous touch.
‘One more thing.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Just so you know—I always pay my debts.’ He paused, his disarming smile capable of tempting a saint. ‘And I fully intend making good with you.’
While her tongue glued itself to the roof of her mouth, his eyes glittered with clear intent before he released her and walked away.
Lana tucked strands of frizz into her bristling ponytail, all too aware she was fighting a losing battle as she stared at her flushed face covered in a perspiration sheen. The polished brass nameplate on the door to Zac’s office was as highly effective as a mirror—too effective—and she belatedly realised she should’ve ducked down to her cabin before presenting herself here.
When he’d said he’d see her after the class he wouldn’t have anticipated a bedraggled, scraggly mess arriving at his office. Then again, it wasn’t as if she was trying to impress him. The opposite, in fact. The sooner he realised he couldn’t charm her like every other woman on the planet, the easier her life would be. Even if a small part of her would miss his banter.
She knocked and waited for a ‘come in’ before pushing the door open. The sight that greeted her snatched the breath from her lungs.
She’d seen his many faces—sailor Zac, resplendent in uniform, dancing Zac, dinner companion Zac—yet the sight of him behind a desk, scrawling across a daily planner with one hand, tapping a keyboard with the other, issuing instructions into a hands-free phone all the while, had her grabbing the door to steady her wobbly knees.
Here was a guy in control—a guy who could do anything he set his mind to. He made multi-tasking look easy, and when he glanced up and smiled a welcome she had to steel her resolve, for executive Zac was as appealing as the rest. More so, considering she understood work, thrived on work, her life was all work.
‘I’ll get back to you. In the meantime, make sure those timetables are correct to within a second.’
He stabbed at the disconnect button on the phone, threw his pen down and leaned back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head.
‘Well, well—if it isn’t our very own Jane Fonda.’
With a shrug, she crossed the room and plopped into a chair opposite him. ‘Jane Fonda? Aren’t you showing your age? Her exercise videos are years old.’
He laughed. ‘So how did it go? Bet those women didn’t give you a hard time.’
‘Why would they? Besides, I think they took out all their frustrations on you.’
‘Did they ever.’
He dropped his hands and stood, his sudden proximity making her rethink her choice of seat. The wide, stuffy leather chair in front of his desk had seemed perfect while he was seated, but now, with him towering over her, it wasn’t so appealing.
‘Thanks for stepping in and saving my butt.’
Oh, no. She wouldn’t think about his butt… wouldn’t go there… wouldn’t remember how she’d made a grab for it last night in that fit of insanity.
Grateful she could blame her flaming cheeks on exercise rather than embarrassment, she cleared her throat. ‘You’re welcome.’
‘Now that you’re here, it’s time we had a chat.’
‘About?’
His eyes bored into hers, challenging, determined, as he gestured towards a document on his desk.
‘Your employment contract, of course.’
‘PARDON?’
She tapped her ear, just to make sure she’d heard correctly.
He picked up the document and offered it to her. ‘Take a look. It’s your employment contract.’
‘You’re kidding, right?’
She stared at the document as if it was her marching orders to walk the plank. ‘I’m on holiday. A well-earned holiday, I might add. I helped you out of a tight spot back there, but that’s it.’
He threw the contract back on the desk and perched on the desk in front of her—way too close for comfort.
‘I understand how you feel, but I need your help. You’d only have to take two classes a day. In return, you’ll be well paid, and it won’t interfere with your holiday at all. You love your job, don’t you?’
‘My job?’
A puzzled frown knit his brow. ‘You said you’re a qualified fitness instructor?’
‘I am.’
But that wasn’t her job. Her job entailed wearing boring business suits, cataloguing boring artefacts and devising boring staff rosters.
Okay, so she did love her job, and it wasn’t always dull, but after she’d been passed over for the Egypt trip she’d started craving more, needing more, and—strangely—the opportunity now came from the most unlikely source. She stared straight at him.
Right then, it hit her like a meteor from Mars.
She needed to build her confidence this trip, and wanted to try new things in order to do so, but still she felt stifled by her conservative nature.
So what if she stepped into a new role? Became the type of person she’d like to be if she had more nerve? Besides, it wasn’t as if she was lying. She was a qualified aerobics instructor. She just didn’t do it for a living.
And who knew? Maybe doing this would give her the ability to form a coherent answer without wanting to duck her head in embarrassment every time he smiled her way?
‘Let me take a look at that.’
Trying
