More Than Perfect. Day Leclaire

to reply and flew up the steps of her 1940s era Craftsman cottage. She fumbled in her envelope purse for her key, found it and was just about to jam it into the lock when she heard the slow, deliberate footsteps climbing the stairs behind her. She spun around. The cab was gone.

      Lucius wasn’t.

      “Well?” he asked. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

      Bad idea. Very bad idea. “Sure.” Idiot. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

      “Sounds perfect.”

      She fought to address him with a casual air and came within waving distance. Not that she fooled him. Lucius wasn’t a man to fool, or a man to make a fool of. He continued to regard her with a watchful gaze, seeing far too much for her peace of mind. “I’ll give you the grand tour while it’s brewing. Not that it’s all that grand,” she chattered. It took four tries to get her key into the lock and the door opened. She threw a brilliant smile over her shoulder. “I guess the first improvement on my list is better lighting so I can see to open the door.”

      He returned her smile, though his eyes were knowing. Of course they were, damn him. Devlin never missed a thing. He stepped across the threshold and closed the door behind him, overpowering the dainty, feminine foyer with an excess of testosterone. He glanced around, nodding in approval. “This is charming, Angie.”

      “It needs paint. Carpets. Upgraded plumbing.” Babbling! “But the electrical is sound, as is the basic structure.”

      He took his time looking around. “I like that the place has its original molding and hardwood floors. So many of the older homes have had those things stripped out and sold to restoration companies.”

      She led the way to the kitchen and started the coffee brewing. “Speaking of restoration, I was thinking about restoring the ‘40s look of the place, sort of like what Moretti did with the Diamondt building. Retro appliances. Antiques from that time period.” She removed cups and saucers from the cupboard, her enthusiasm taking over. “It has two bedrooms and baths on this level, along with a powder room. One of the baths would be perfect for a claw-foot tub and one of those elegant pedestal sinks. Then there’s the upstairs. It’s unfinished right now and I’m not sure whether I want to put in a master suite up there or an office.”

      “A master suite would add more to the resell value. You can always turn one of the downstairs bedrooms into a home office.”

      She poured the coffee and turned to hand him a cup. He was so close she almost dumped it on him. “Sorry,” she murmured, taking a swift step backward that jammed her up against the counter. For some reason she had difficulty meeting his gaze. “There are times I think this place is built more like a dollhouse than a house meant for adults.”

      “You’re nervous. That’s a first for you.” He tilted his head to one side, his eyes as black as the bowels of hell. “Why is that, Angie?”

      She made a helpless shrug. “You’re my boss. And we’re in my home.”

      “And we’re blurring the lines?”

      “Something like that,” she admitted. Honesty forced her to confess, “Okay, totally that.”

      “Normally, we aren’t the sort of people who blur lines.”

      “No.”

      But she wished she were. If she weren’t afraid it would mean losing her job, she’d accept the offer she could read in his gaze. Part of her urged her to do just that. After all, what did it matter? He’d made it clear he intended to marry. If he did, she’d quit. Why not take a chance before that happened? Why not show him that she was so much more than a piece of office furniture. That she was a woman with a woman’s emotions. All it would take was a kiss. A single kiss.

      As soon as the thought came to her, she instantly dismissed it. Just where would that kiss lead? Straight to bed. To bed, where she’d be able to prove to him beyond a shadow of a doubt that while she excelled as his PA, she was a total disaster as the sort of woman who usually graced his bed. The stunning Lisa had managed to keep two brilliant and powerful men hooked. Angie closed her eyes. She hadn’t even been able to hook one.

      “Lucius—”

      He lifted a hand, cut her off. “Tonight was a disaster. You realize that, don’t you?”

      Her brows pulled together in consternation. “You said it wasn’t my fault.”

      “I lied. It was your fault.”

      “Wait a minute. Wait just one damn minute.” She set her cup and saucer on the counter, the porcelain singing in protest. “You told me to flirt with him.”

      “I told you to distract him. You didn’t distract him.” It only took a single step in her direction to have him invading her personal space. “You distracted me. And he bloody well knew it. Knew it and took advantage of that fact.”

      “And you blame me for that?” she demanded indignantly.

      “I blame it on that damn dress.” Burning flames of desire flared to life in his gaze, sweeping like wildfire across her skin, scorching in its intensity. All she could do was stare in return, bathing in the irresistible flames. “Maybe it would help if you took it off …”

       Three

      Lucius heard the swift, panicked catch of Angie’s breath. God help him. Even that was sexy as hell. Why had he never noticed? How could he have been so blind?

      “Have you lost your mind?” she demanded.

      “Probably,” he admitted. Definitely.

      “You can’t seriously expect me to strip down—”

      “Expect? No. Hope?” He invaded the final few inches between them and caught the flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat, heard the swift give-and-take of her breath. “Oh, yeah.”

      “I work for you. And this doesn’t just blur the lines. It steps way over them.”

      He reached for her, hooked one of the curls that had taunted him all evening and allowed it to twine around his finger. It clung to him, silken soft and utterly female. He’d watched Moretti do just that and it had taken every ounce of his self-possession not to deck the bastard. Lucius shook his head in an attempt to clear it. He didn’t understand what was happening to him, couldn’t make any sense out of the strength of his reaction. Angie had worked for him over the past eighteen months and not once in all that time had he ever felt the urge to connect with her on a personal level. To take her into his arms and discover whether that sexy, impudent mouth tasted as good as it looked.