Bedded By The Boss. Yvonne Lindsay

he announced, as they entered the neon-lit oasis of the town.

      “Me, too.” In more ways than one.

      “Let’s pick up something to eat. What would you like?”

      “I don’t know the restaurants. I haven’t bought takeout since I’ve been here.” Trying too hard to squirrel away every penny.

      “The fried chicken is good. And the food at the Mexican place is always fresh.”

      Sara turned to look at Elan, who studied the neon signs with keen interest. Somehow it shocked her that he would eat takeout fried chicken like a regular person.

      “Whatever you prefer.”

      “I believe I prefer steak fajitas.” He turned to her with a raised eyebrow.

      “Sounds good.”

      Yikes. As he pulled up she could see it was a drive-through. Did this mean she should invite him into her apartment to eat it? Or would he expect to drop her off with her dinner and return home to eat his?

      Probably the latter.

      He picked up their food at the drive-through window and handed it to Sara. Lord, she was hungry. The zesty aroma of grilled steak and onions filled the car and made her stomach growl. He chuckled.

      “Your hunger is getting the better of you.”

      Don’t I know it? She shifted in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable as she watched his broad hand settle over the gear shift and push it into Drive. She resisted the urge to fan herself or turn the air-conditioning on full as they pulled back onto the road.

      “We must eat immediately. And I know just the spot.” He sped through the town and back out into the desert.

      Outside town he took a sharp turn toward the mountains. Shrubs and boulders along the roadside cast eerie shadows in the headlights. The road disintegrated into a dirt track as they climbed up toward the veiled moon and stars.

      After only a few minutes he stopped the car and climbed out. Sara gingerly opened the door and lowered a foot onto the sandy ground of the dark desert. A match flared and she followed its glow to Elan. He’d opened the trunk and now lit a small fire a few yards from the car.

      “What are you using for kindling?”

      “Mesquite wood. I keep some in the trunk. The fire will keep animals from joining us for dinner.”

      Okay.

      He spread a blanket on the ground while Sara retrieved their food and drinks from the car. The night was pleasantly warm and the fresh mountain air invigorated her tired body. The city lights twinkled below them in the wide valley like a carpet of jewels. Sara sighed with pleasure as she kicked off her shoes and settled on the blanket.

      She unpacked their food and handed him his soda.

      “Do you come here often?”

       Oh, like that didn’t sound stupid!

      He chuckled. “I do.”

      “By yourself?”

       Sara! Shove some food in your mouth to stop it flapping!

      “Sometimes.” His dark eyes flashed at her in the flickering firelight. The suggestion she read in them made her gut kick like a gun recoil.

       It’s all in your imagination!

      Quickly she unwrapped her fajita and took a bite. Elan sat cross-legged on the blanket. The glint of gold from his watch caught her eye as he unwrapped his own food. The strangeness of the situation struck her. She was seated by a fire in the midst of an empty desert, with a filthy-rich tycoon she had a massive and embarrassing crush on.

      If my friends could see me now.

      She sneaked a glance at him. He regarded her with a curious expression. Was he laughing at her? He hadn’t started eating yet, and she hesitated before taking her next bite.

      “After many years in England I like to begin a meal with a toast,” he said. The fire flared, illuminating his face, where she read nothing but goodwill. “To you surviving your first plane flight.” He lifted his soda cup and held it in the air. “Cheers.”

      She bumped her cup gently against his. “Cheers.” She took a sip of her soda. The cool bubbles tickled her throat. “And my second plane flight. Though I only barely survived that one, didn’t I?”

      “Your response to the plane’s descent was rather unexpected.” His eyes twinkled with humor.

      “Thank you for taking care of me.” Her face heated as she realized she had no idea how she’d gone from being strapped in her seat to awakening in Elan’s arms.

      His dark eyes remained fixed on hers. “It was my pleasure.” His husky voice and challenging stare sent her thoughts tripping over each other as they ran in a number of unseemly directions.

      She took another bite of her fajita, trying hard not to think about him bending over her, lips poised mere inches from her own, his hands unbuckling her seat belt, loosening her clothing…

      No, her clothing had not been loosened. Earth to Sara!

      Elan did not seem the least bit preoccupied with thoughts of their rather eventful journey as he ploughed through three entrées with impressive gusto. She nibbled at her food and sipped her soda while she watched with amazement.

      At last he looked up at her and wiped his mouth with his napkin.

      “What?” A smile quirked at the corner of his mouth.

      “Nothing.”

      “Rubbish. Your eyes are smiling. What’s so amusing?”

      “I’ve never seen anyone eat so much.”

      “I’m a man of prodigious appetites.” He looked at her steadily, his head cocked.

      I can imagine.

      His lips twitched slightly, as if anticipating something other than eating. Sara suppressed a little shiver as her imagination started to work overtime.

      “And we missed lunch today.” His mouth creased into a smile. The flickering firelight danced over his proud features and made Sara’s insides churn in a most disturbing way.

      “Oh, yes, you’re right. No lunch.” She hadn’t even noticed. Food was the last thing on her mind when Elan was around.

      “I’ve been starving for hours.”

      Me, too.

      He leaned back, braced himself on one powerful arm, and rested a hand on his belly. A belly as firm and flat as the desert floor, hidden by his white shirt. She knew exactly how hard it was since she’d been crushed against it only half an hour ago.

      His hand was silhouetted against the pale cloth of his shirt, long fingers splayed. It was a hand that looked as though it could cradle the world in its palm. She could still feel his fingers on her flesh as if the heat of them had seared through her clothing and left a smoking imprint on her skin.

      The fire sputtered and dimmed. Elan lifted himself and leaned across the blanket, reached past her to rearrange the mesquite strips. He knelt and rested his weight on one powerful arm—like a tiger ready to pounce—as he tended the blaze with one hand.

      She struggled to keep her breathing inaudible as his torso almost brushed against her.

      He blew on the flames and they flared. He pulled back and knelt beside her.

      “This mesquite does not burn as steadily as camel dung.” A wry smile curved his lips as he surveyed her with hooded eyes. She let out a laugh, glad of an excuse for a release.

      “I guess it’s not easy to find things to burn in the desert.”

      “You learn to