At The Boss's Command. Darcy Maguire

legs that tapered to a nice flat waist.

      His soft blue shirt was covered by a black suit jacket that was tailored to perfection, emphasising just how wide the guy’s shoulders were.

      His tie was the colour of sapphires…she lifted her gaze…as were his eyes, that met hers with a casual assurance that touched his lips, firm and sensual and full of promises.

      Tahlia’s breath caught in her lungs.

      She shook herself. She was going to stay focused and on track, no matter how short-back-and-sides, clean-shaven, suit-obsessed, white-collar-cute he looked.

      ‘Hello,’ he offered, his voice rich and deep, flowing over her like liquid Swiss chocolate. The world tipped.

      The man caught her arm, holding her steady, a flash of concern in his gaze. ‘Are you okay?’

      His hand was strong, hot and muddling. Blood rushed to Tahlia’s face, filling her head with a blurring that she couldn’t afford right now.

      She forced her knees to straighten, strengthen, to not fall for a ridiculous weakness that only happened in a twelve-year-old girl’s dreams.

      ‘Yes. Of course. I’m fine,’ she managed, lifting her chin and shooting him a smile of cool assurance. ‘Loose heel, that’s all.’

      She cast a glance downward to her black heels, willing that one would fall off gracefully and save her from this embarrassment.

      His gaze followed, coursing over her suit jacket, down her simple white blouse, over her short black skirt that stopped a good six inches above her knees, down her bare legs to her feet.

      His eyes glinted and she had the sudden urge to cross her arms. She felt naked, as though he’d just seen far more of her than he should have. And liked what he saw.

      Butterflies swarmed in her belly.

      Tahlia jerked her hand up to her face, pushed back her blonde-streaked long fringe and pointed to the lifts. ‘Must go. Love to…’ Die on the spot. ‘But can’t be late for work.’

      The cute-suit raised an eyebrow, his blue eyes flashing. ‘That’s it?’

      She froze. What? Did he mean to suggest that he was well aware of her disgusting weak-kneed reaction and was expecting her to fall into his arms again? What arrogance!

      ‘It?’ she enunciated clearly, crossing her arms. What else could he want? ‘As opposed to, what?’

      ‘An apology.’

      ‘Oh.’ The sound escaped her throat. Of course he did. Obviously. Manners. Why hadn’t she thought of that instead of jumping to erogenous conclusions? ‘Sorry for—’

      His mouth quirked, fighting what looked to be a smile.

      She stiffened, her blood heating anew. ‘Sorry for…running into someone who was obviously not looking where he was going.’

      ‘Either,’ he added, his voice an octave deeper.

      ‘Either,’ she echoed as casually as she could, hating to concede a point, and more than infuriated at her body’s total lack of sense. ‘Fine, but since you agree that you weren’t looking where you were going either, you could apologise…’

      His eyes sparkled. ‘You’re absolutely right, but I was brought up to believe in “ladies first”.’

      ‘I think that relates to entries, exits and queues, not to apologies.’ She glared up at him. ‘And you have to admit that men need all the practice they can get.’

      The man put down his case. ‘Apologising?’

      She nodded. ‘It’s really something they don’t do enough of.’

      ‘Bad day?’ He slipped his hands into his pockets. ‘Has your husband upset you?’

      She shook her head, a smile jumping to her mouth. ‘I’m not married.’ Gawd, no. She wasn’t going anywhere near that challenge for a long time.

      ‘Your boyfriend, then?’

      ‘No—’ Tahlia took a step back, her stomach fluttering as though there were a thousand butterflies in it. Was he interested, in her? ‘Look, I have to go or I’ll be late and you don’t know my boss—’

      He didn’t know her either.

      ‘She doesn’t let you forget any transgression, no matter how insignificant, and it’s not like she’ll be sympathetic to my bumped-into-a-cute-guy-in-the-lobby excuse, even though she is seriously in need of a good—’

      ‘You think I’m cute?’

      She touched her lips. Oh, damn. That couldn’t have been her. She never babbled, let alone incoherently. She never put her feet anywhere except where she wanted to go.

      She pointed to the lifts, opening her mouth, but no words would come out. What in blazes was going on with her?

      ‘See you around then?’ he offered, his warm mouth fighting a smile that promised to be as amazing as the rest of him.

      She nodded, swung around and forced herself to get as much distance between them as possible, counting her steps, measuring her speed to look as little like the hasty escape it was as possible.

      What was that?

      Tahlia shook her head. She wasn’t going to even think about it. So, the guy was cute and lust was a natural response. She didn’t have to concern herself about a bit of lust and there were so many reasons to lust for that guy.

      Deep sexy voice, gorgeous body, tall, commanding and handsome as hell, but she wasn’t about to listen to inappropriate primal urges.

      She needed a list of criteria for the most appropriate partner, a conservative, safe plan to dating, a timetable that would fit in with her commitments and work demands. This was not the time to get distracted or fall for anyone willy-nilly.

      She stepped into the lift, taking a deep slow breath. What was she even thinking? One thing she was sure of. She was never going to fall for anyone, especially someone like that.

      She was not going to make the same mistakes as her mother. No way in hell. Case Darrington punched the lift button, unable to stop the smile that had crept on to his lips at meeting the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on.

      It wasn’t just her looks. It was everything about her.

      The way she’d pulled her short chestnut-brown hair up and back into a wild and spiky knot intrigued him, suggesting a conservative layer covering something untamed underneath.

      The large chunk of hair that she left loose could be called a fringe, hanging down and cupping her cheek like his hands itched to.

      Her skin had beckoned to him, creamy smooth. Her lips, full and plump like peaches just begging to be tasted. Her eyes, deep dark green, pinning him to the spot.

      So much to explore…who was she?

      He should have asked her name, should have skipped getting exact directions from the guard and just followed her. He should have kept her talking instead of letting her have her escape without even getting her name, her floor, a glass shoe.

      Case put his attaché case by his feet and tried to stop smiling. Hell. She’d floored him, with her eyes, her lips, her words…

      Case couldn’t say when he’d last been so flattered so simply. Had watched such a beautiful display of…innocent reaction.

      He stiffened. What was he thinking? He wasn’t about to get carried away with any unusual aches in the heart that he’d thought had died on him.

      He’d grown wiser the hard way.

      The doors opened on the lift and he snatched up his attaché case and stepped in. He wasn’t here for anything but work.

      He gripped