The Parisian Playboy. Helen Brooks

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      “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Querruel.”

      As Holly stepped out of the elevator, in a world of her own, she found herself in Jacques Querruel’s arms, the file he was holding spreading its pages over the floor as he dropped it to steady them both.

      He looked devastating. “I thought we decided last night it was Jacques?” he asked, still holding her.

      Holly was mesmerized. “But that was away from the office,” she said weakly.

      “And this is in the office, and I still wish you to call me by my first name, mademoiselle.”

      “People might get the wrong idea,” she insisted.

      “I am the boss, am I not? I can do whatever I want.”

      It used to be just a nine-to-five job…

      until she realized she was

      Now it’s an after-hours affair!

      Getting to know him in the boardroom…and the bedroom!

      Coming soon:

      The Boss’s Secret Mistress

       by Alison Fraser

       #2378

      His Boardroom Mistress

       by Emma Darcy

       #2380

      Mistress by Agreement

       by Helen Brooks

       #2390

      The Parisian Playboy

      Helen Brooks

      MILLS & BOON

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      CONTENTS

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER TEN

      CHAPTER ONE

      ‘AND how is the lovely Holly this morning? Had fun over the weekend, darling? You look like a girl who knows how to have a good time.’

      As Holly raised her eyes from her word processor she steeled herself to show no reaction at all when she saw Jeff Roberts’s podgy face leering at her from the doorway. ‘Good morning, Mr Roberts,’ she said flatly, her voice dismissive. And then she felt her stomach muscles contract as he sauntered over to her desk.

      He was close enough now for his eye-wateringly pungent aftershave to invade her air space, but Holly continued typing without glancing at him again, hoping he would take the hint and leave.

      There were basically three ways to deal with the problem of a serial groper in the office, Holly had decided some weeks before, when she had first started work at Querruel International.

      One—ignore and avoid the sad individual in question, whilst letting him know by as icy a manner as possible that his advances were not appreciated.

      Two—yell sexual harassment and take it as high as it needed.

      Three—go for ultimate satisfaction and sock the scumbag a strong right hook on the jaw.

      Holly had been trying the rational approach for eight weeks on the scumbag concerned with no visible result, and reporting him was a no-go unless she was prepared to lose her job because Jeff Roberts was the son of the managing director and the apple of his doting father’s eye.

      The third option would definitely mean she sacrificed all possibility of a future reference as well as the job—a job which had promised bright prospects and an interesting and rosy future at her initial interview. But—and the but had become increasingly attractive over the last couple of months—it would certainly teach the little wimp a lesson he wouldn’t forget in a hurry.

      He leant over her, reading the report she was copying from the draft on her desk, and his voice was low when he said, ‘I’ve told you before, call me Jeff when there’s just the two of us.’

      There was always a faintly musty, almost unwashed odour emanating from his clothes, or maybe his skin, and Holly had to suppress a shudder of distaste. It didn’t help that her tiny office was little more than a cubby-hole off Jeff’s father’s secretary’s office, with one small window and wall-to-wall filing cabinets. There was one other door apart from that opening into the secretary’s domain, and this would have led into the corridor outside but for the fact that two filing cabinets had been placed in front of it. Now necessity dictated one entered and left through the one door; something Jeff hadn’t been slow to take advantage of from her first week.

      ‘If you are looking for Margaret she should be back from the canteen in just a moment,’ Holly said pointedly.

      ‘Is that so?’ As she continued with her work he adjusted his position, bending down and reaching across her for a pen and managing to brush the side of her breast as he did so. ‘I’ll just borrow this for a moment, if I may?’

      Holly stopped typing, forcing herself to stare up into his sallow, moist face as she said steadily, ‘I’ve told you before, Mr. Roberts, I don’t want you to do that.’

      ‘Do what?’ He didn’t even bother to try to sound indignant, and when his gaze moved over her breasts and then down to her legs before returning to her face his tongue wet his lower lip.

      ‘I don’t want you to touch me,’ she spelt out tightly.

      ‘Did I touch you?’ He smiled, bending closer again and giving her the full benefit of his bad breath as he murmured, ‘Why don’t we go for a nice little drink after work, eh? I know just the place. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

      When hell froze over! ‘I’m afraid I’ve got other plans,’ Holly said stiffly.

      ‘Tomorrow, then?’ Speckled hazel eyes of a muddy hue slithered over her greedily. ‘I’ll buy you dinner too if you’re a good girl. Can’t say fairer than that.’

      Where was this man coming from? What did it take to puncture this inflated ego that thought because of his standing in the firm he could behave however he liked? Holly knew from talk she’d heard in the canteen during her coffee breaks that Jeff Roberts pawed whomsoever he could, but most of the other girls worked in conditions where there was safety in numbers.

      She stared him straight in the eye as she said coldly, ‘I’m sorry but I can’t go for a drink with you tomorrow or any other time, Mr. Roberts.’

      His face changed. ‘I can