With Love From Las Vegas. Cat Schield

if she could ignore her boss’s summons.

      “Missy, open the door. I need to speak to you.”

      With Sebastian, it was always about him. What about what she needed?

      She kicked her legs free of the covers and stalked across the room. “What about?” She called through the door. He’d been a jerk all evening and she wasn’t exactly dressed to receive visitors.

      “You left the party early. Are you all right?”

      The steel in her spine bowed a little. “I’m fine. Just tired.” She rested her cheek against the door. “I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

      She didn’t mean to make the remark flirtatious, yet a cascade of sparks trickled along her nerves.

      “Please open the door.” Less demanding, more like a request.

      “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

      “Why not?”

      “Because I’m in my pajamas.”

      The silence on the other side of the door lasted so long Missy wondered if he’d left. Disappointment stormed her defenses. How was she supposed to act as if the night before meant nothing to her when she hung on his every word and look?

      “Show me.”

      At first she thought she’d misheard him. “What?”

      “Show me.”

      What was his game? “You don’t believe I’m dressed for bed?”

      “I believe you. I’m just curious what you wear.”

      She was hot and bothered before he uttered his last syllable. Damn him. She hadn’t done any flirting since high school. Her relationship with Tim had been straightforward and uneventful. He’d never given her heart palpitations or made her wet with a single glance.

      Missy unbolted and threw open the door. “Here I am.”

      Sebastian slouched, his shoulder against the wall. With his tie pulled off center and his dark hair falling forward to obscure his eyes, he looked as tired as she felt. Her caretaker gene kicked in. He had a full week ahead of him and should be in bed instead of standing outside her door. But she quashed the urge to tell him to go get some sleep. She was not his girlfriend or his mother.

      “Somehow I knew you’d be wearing red.” His weary tone was at odds with the simmer in his gray eyes as he trailed his gaze from her chin to her toes. “Are those palm trees?”

      “And surf boards. My brother brought them back from Hawaii.”

      Despite the conservative nature of her sleepwear, Missy felt edgy and vulnerable. She had no doubts that if he touched her she was a goner. But why would he? Sebastian had emphasized that he was done with her. So, why was he standing at her door so late?

      “Is there something else?” she prompted, eager for him to leave. Her muscles shivered with restrained impulses. The longer he stayed, the harder to resist the urge to grab his tie and haul him to her bed. “Because I’m really, really tired.”

      Earlier, he’d been right when he’d accused her of wanting to spend the day with him. Four years of suppressed longing hadn’t been assuaged by a mere ten hours of lovemaking. In fact, the night with Sebastian had fueled her appetite for more.

      “Missy—”

      She cut him off. “Don’t you dare.” Something about the way he said her name spurred her to action. The urge to hit him came out of nowhere. Her fist connected with his chest.

      “What the hell was that for?” His eyes flared to life, but he looked more surprised than angry.

      “I don’t know.”

      She’d sensed whatever he’d been about to say would persuade her to get naked. That couldn’t happen. One night with him was about fulfilling dozens upon dozens of erotic fantasies. A week would mean she’d fallen prey to the same unrealistic pipe dream that had gotten her heart broken in high school.

      She didn’t fit into Sebastian’s world any more than she’d fit into Chip’s. Repeating the pattern would be idiotic. She liked to think she’d gotten wiser since age sixteen. This morning with Sebastian, she’d discovered how close she’d come to making the same mistake all over again.

      He fingered the spot where she’d struck him. “I was going to compliment you on how well the cocktail party went. I couldn’t have pulled this week off without you.”

      Confusion reigned. Is that really what he’d intended to say? If so, she’d just made a fool of herself again. If not …

      No. She couldn’t think about the alternative. Sebastian had made his need for her clear. She was his assistant. That’s the only role he wanted her to play.

      “Thank you.”

      “What will it take for you to stay on? More money? A company car? An extra week of vacation? I’ll give you anything you want.”

      She wanted him to make her feel like a desirable woman, not a valuable commodity because she was organized and detail oriented.

      “Anything?” It intrigued her to see the uncompromising Sebastian offer her a blank check.

      “Anything.” His low voice slid over her skin like warm silk. She recalled its effect on her the night before. He’d coaxed her to do things that even now roused goose bumps.

      She kept her tone level so he wouldn’t see how he disturbed her. “Good thing Nathan’s in charge of acquisitions because you suck at negotiating.”

      “Not usually, but something about you brings out the worst in me.”

      “I never used to,” she complained softly.

      “You also never used to come to work dressed like you were tonight, either.” Hard as iron, his eyes held hers. “What is it going to take to keep you on as my assistant?”

      She pondered the long hours at her desk and the price she’d paid in her personal life. She’d made the decision to quit before she’d slept with Sebastian. Nothing had changed. In fact, moving on was more essential than ever.

      “It’s no use. You might promise me the same thing won’t happen again, but I know it will. You just can’t help yourself.”

      His eyebrows arched. “You think I can’t keep my hands off you?”

      At his misunderstanding, her body flushed asphalt-in-August hot. “I’m not talking about sex, I’m talking about your promise not to bother me evenings and weekends. You’d start regressing. I want to work for someone who understands that an employee’s off-hours are sacred.” She tossed her head. “In fact, someone already made me an offer. Someone who knows the value of a personal life.”

      “Who?”

      “Nothing’s finalized yet. But when it is, you’ll be the first to know.”

      Donning a plum-colored dress, Missy slipped out of her hotel room at six-thirty to make sure she missed Sebastian. After yesterday, she needed a cup or two of coffee before she faced him.

      Missy reached the ballroom where most of the summit meetings would take place. After checking on the food arrangements and making sure all the audiovisual equipment was working, she assured herself that Sebastian’s opening speech awaited him at the podium. Everything had to be perfect.

      “I see my son has you burning the candle at both ends.” Brandon stood at the back of the room, dressed for a round of golf rather than a business meeting. “Have you given any more thought to my suggestion that you take over for Dean as director of communications? Max liked the idea and wants to discuss it with you after the summit.”

      “I’m not sure I have the experience required,” Missy hedged, wondering if she should even be discussing a job change without talking