Bedroom Seductions: Two Weeks in the Magnate's Bed

Chapter Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Two Weeks in the Magnate’s Bed (#ulink_fa6d17e3-2217-5cfc-bda1-74577d4ffdb2)

NICOLA MARSH has always had a passion for writing and reading. As a youngster, she devoured books when she should have been sleeping, and later she kept a diary, which could be an epic in itself! These days, when she’s not enjoying life with her husband and son in her home city of Melbourne, she’s at her computer doing her dream job: creating the romances she loves. Visit Nicola’s website at www.nicolamarsh.com for the latest news of her books.

With thanks to fellow Harlequin Romance author Claire Baxter, for helping me brainstorm Zac in all his dynamic, enigmatic glory!

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_13a59a95-87ea-533e-b7f3-6525dd5c3352)

AS THE taxi screeched to a halt, Lana Walker flung open the door and scrambled for her bags.

‘Hey, slow down. You haven’t missed the boat.’

The deep groove in the driver’s caterpillar mono-brow had been honed with years of practice if his glare was any indication.

The way she saw it, she might have arrived on time to board the Ocean Queen, but she’d missed the boat metaphorically in every other way that counted—which was exactly why she was taking this trip.

She rummaged for the fare and darted a curious glance at the ship, spotting several officers in white uniforms on deck.

Very impressive—and the ship wasn’t half bad either.

A shadow loomed over the open passenger door as the driver held out his hand. ‘Some people have all the luck. How about my fare, lady?’

Grouch. She resisted the urge to poke out her tongue as she handed him the money, picked up her luggage and headed for the escalators.

What would he know about luck? She’d worked hard for what she had—damn hard: five years as curator at Melbourne Museum, and three years as head curator at Sydney Museum had been amazing, stimulating and stressful.

Sure, she had a stellar reputation in the industry, and a gorgeous apartment in the beachside suburb of Coogee, but that was about it.

She didn’t have a life.

No time out, no socialising, no fun.

Over the next two weeks she planned to change all that.

Though luck had played a part in this trip; if she hadn’t won the cruise she wouldn’t have taken a holiday, sad workaholic that she was.

As thoughts of work crowded her head, namely how she’d recently missed out on the opportunity of a lifetime courtesy of her crippling shyness, she stumbled at the top of the escalator and pitched forward, silently cursing the three-inch heels her shoe-crazy cousin Beth had loaned her for the trip.

So much for the hope that the illusion of height would give her extra poise. It would be difficult to feign elegance when she landed on her butt.

Grabbing wildly at anything more stable than air, she exhaled on a relieved sigh as a strong pair of arms shot out, holding her in a vice-like grip.

‘Whoa. These things are lethal if you don’t concentrate. Too busy daydreaming about the Love Boat, huh?’ The smooth voice, with more than a hint of amusement in its husky depths, sent an unexpected shiver down her spine as she looked up into her rescuer’s face.

Wow.

Seeing good-looking guys on a daily basis was a perk of her job. The museum was a haven for sexily scruffy archaeological students, attractive teachers, even the odd university professor with a distinguished Sean Connery thing going on.

Yet this guy who now pinned her with arms displaying a great set of biceps was so much more than that. Striking was more appropriate. Even sex-on-legs, as brazen Beth would say.

Hypnotic eyes, a deep, cobalt blue, were fringed with long dark lashes any woman would have envied, and those baby blues were pinned on her, a teasing glint in their rich depths.

She inhaled sharply, unprepared for an intoxicating fresh citrus scent that left her head spinning—and not just from her near-fall.

As for his lips, curving with the hint of a smile, for the first time in her reclusive life she understood the label ‘kissable’.

All too aware she was staring—gawking, more like it—she dropped her gaze. Only to be confronted by an equally intriguing sight: a broad expanse of tanned chest where the two top buttons of his shirt were undone.

Hotter than Indiana Jones, leapt to mind.

She had a major thing for Indiana—always had—and, lucky her, Indiana’s double was holding on to her as if his life depended on it.

She’d wanted to gain confidence, step outside her comfort zone, experience new things on this cruise. To broaden her outlook to the extent she was never passed over for a work opportunity again. She had been thinking along the lines of dance lessons, lectures on exotic destinations, shore excursions, that sort of thing.

However, being held by this guy had her mind sailing down channels she’d never usually contemplate. Not a bad thing entirely, if taking this holiday had already affected her mindset. Maybe shy, geeky Lana—as she’d once overheard some colleagues call her—was already slipping into vacation mode.

Her heart thumping, whether in fear of her strangely errant thoughts or excitement at what they might urge her to do, she eased out of his grip.

He grinned and, typically, he had a sexy smile to match the rest of him. ‘So, do I pass inspection?’

Great. He knew she’d been checking him out. Her skill at covert observation was on a par with her wardrobe: shabby at best.