Her Enemy With Benefits. Nicola Marsh

the urge to squirm in her seat—and tried to ignore the occasional brush of his shoulder against hers or the touch of his thigh pressing close as he leaned over to point out a minor detail. Perfectly innocuous actions that shouldn’t have made her burn but she did. For him. With an unrelenting heat that sparked every time he touched her and shot off at tangents throughout her body, zapping and scalding and corroding her resistance slowly but surely.

      This wasn’t good.

      Their bathroom interlude should have taken the edge off her sudden interest in seeing him naked.

      Instead it had put her on some heightened awareness where having him near sent her pheromones into overdrive.

      The preview concluded way too quickly. Serge departed and the models filed out after him, leaving her rueing the approaching time where she’d have to do some fast thinking, fast talking, or both.

      She’d had an orgasm.

      In Fourde Fashion’s boardroom.

      With an unlocked door.

      Seconds before people had come traipsing in.

      It had been phenomenal, but the fact she was becoming like him—reckless, live in the moment—was not good.

      That might have been one of her goals after leaving Tenang—to make the most of every second and not dwell on things she couldn’t change—but now she had Patrick urging her, how far would she go to test her newfound strength?

      Pushing it physically was one thing, but seeing how far she could push with Patrick…

      Danger with a capital D.

      For sex with a guy like him could become addictive, and she had no intention of getting hooked.

      ‘Thoughts?’

      He really didn’t want to know.

      By the amused glint in his eyes, maybe he did.

      She took a deep breath and pushed her notepad towards him. ‘On what you’ve done? Amazing. Here are a few things I jotted down to capitalise on the theme you’re going for.’

      He sped read her dot-point list, nodding thoughtfully, pen tapping against the pad, so absorbed in business that she wondered if she’d dreamt the whole dirty-talk orgasm incident.

      ‘Great pick-ups. I’ll get onto Serge right away to get the designers to incorporate.’

      He glanced up and her heart leapt.

      ‘Sure Ruby’s the only creative genius in your family?’ He pointed at the list. ‘These are insightful suggestions.’

      Chuffed by his praise, she shrugged. ‘This coming from the guy who has single-handedly come up with an amazing concept and is seeing it through to the most glorious designs I’ve ever seen.’

      He winked. ‘Flattery will get you everywhere.’

      That was what she was afraid of.

      Now was the time she had to lay down the law about mixing business with pleasure, about setting boundaries. But with her body still humming and her mind still reeling at how sexual he made her feel, maybe now wasn’t the best time.

      He touched her arm, the barest brush of his fingertips against her skin, and she jumped.

      ‘Your reaction just answered my next question.’

      ‘What’s that?’

      ‘That until we get this thing out of our systems are we going to be useless working together?’

      She should disagree. Should give him a spiel about her ability to remain professional and focussed at all times.

      Totally hypocritical, considering she’d almost screamed his name less than thirty minutes ago.

      ‘What do you suggest?’

      ‘Damned if I know.’ He pinched the bridge of his nose. It did little to clear the frown above it. ‘We have three weeks left ’til Fashion Week, so the next seven days are crucial in finalising the designs and incorporating changes.’

      No argument there.

      ‘That means we both need to work our butts off without interruptions.’ He sent her a pointed glare. ‘Or distractions.’

      ‘Hey, I’m not the one going around…’ She trailed off, unwilling to articulate exactly what he’d been doing to her. ‘So you’re saying we work apart?’

      Was that even feasible with the workload they had?

      He nodded, and while her head said this was the perfect solution, her body wailed a loud, resounding nooooo!

      ‘We talk on the phone, e-mail, Skype. But this?’ He gestured to the limited space between them. ‘Too distracting when I can’t keep my hands off you.’

      His declaration soothed her wailing body somewhat.

      ‘But some time in the future, when the campaign is done…’ He snagged a tendril curling around her ear and wound it slowly around his finger, caressing the top of her ear, tracing its shape, sending a shiver of longing vibrating downwards. ‘We play.’

      How two words could hold so much promise she’d never know.

      ‘Define play.’

      His mouth eased into a breath-stealing grin. ‘You and me. “Do not Disturb” sign. And that box I promised you. Maybe two.’

      Her body gave a betraying howl of longing.

      ‘Your stamina’s that good?’

      ‘You bet.’ He leaned close, his lips grazing her cheek, and she clamped down on the urge to turn her head a fraction and ram her mouth against his. ‘And I can’t wait to prove it.’

      Oh, boy.

      ‘Sound doable?’

      She—it—was extremely doable.

      ‘Sure.’ She nodded, her insides trembling with need, as she gathered up her work paraphernalia.

      ‘Sapphire?’

      She couldn’t stop, for if she did she’d never make it out of here without flinging herself at him.

      ‘Yeah?’ she mumbled, trying to stuff her laptop into her bag with limited success—until she realised she was trying to force it into her handbag.

      ‘You know time apart will feed my hunger for you?’

      She gulped.

      If they were this turned on now, imagine what time apart would do?

      ‘And while we focus on business this next week it doesn’t rule out phone sex.’

      A ripple of pleasure spread through her at the thought.

      ‘I’ve never done phone sex,’ she said, sounding like an inexperienced neophyte but not caring. She had a feeling this guy would be teaching her a plethora of unspoken delights.

      ‘Then this is going to be fun.’

      He brushed a kiss across her lips and she let him, lingering a few seconds longer than necessary, aware it would be their last physical contact for a long seven days.

      When the need to linger became a driving need to straddle him, she yanked away and grabbed her stuff.

      She strode for the door, desperate to put some distance between them. With her hand on the handle and a safe space between them, she said, ‘Patrick?’

      ‘Yeah?’

      Her only consolation was that he looked half as dazed as she was.

      ‘Better make that three boxes.’

CHAPTER SIX