Unbuttoned by the Boss: Unbuttoned by Her Maverick Boss / The Far Side of Paradise / Rub It In

‘The rest of the team will be back in later today. They’ve been helping on another project.’

‘The bar.’ Kat had told her about it. Lorenzo was the backer behind some guy opening up a new bar in the heart of cooldom. And she could totally be professional in the face of this provocation. Sure she could.

‘Yes.’ He was sounding all serious but his eyes were dancing. ‘Shall we go into your office and get on with it?’

She stopped only three paces along. Nope. She couldn’t be professional—not like this. ‘Do you possibly think that you could put a shirt on?’

A deep, totally pure sound of amusement rumbled out of him. ‘It really bothers you.’

‘It’s inappropriate.’ Sophy felt her temperature rising. She wasn’t a prude—really she wasn’t. But this was just before nine a.m. and they were at work. Hell, yes, it bothered her.

‘No more inappropriate than you bursting into my apartment and ordering a nurse for me.’

Sophy smiled, feeling a sense of power return. ‘Now that really bothered you, didn’t it? Me seeing you like that—in such a weakened state. Did it wound your male pride? Is that why you’re showing your muscles again now? Proving your masculine strength?’

‘You really think I was weak?’ He turned, his big frame took up half the space in the corridor. And then he moved. Instinctively she retreated—backing up against the wall. But he followed, totally hemming her in. She stuck her chin in the air trying not to feel anxious—or, worse, the lick of anticipation.

Sparks seemed to be coming from his eyes. ‘I don’t think I’m the one who needs to prove anything. I think that’s for you to do.’

‘What exactly do you think I need to prove? That you don’t bother me?’ Altitude sickness on the second floor—that was her problem. She must be the world’s first case but she’d swear the air was thinner here because she could hardly get her words higher than a whisper.

His brows flickered. ‘Don’t I?’

‘Of course you do.’

His brows shot higher. What, he hadn’t expected honesty?

‘You’re half naked. All the time,’ she explained the obvious. ‘But it’s the inappropriateness that bothers me. Not your actual body.’ Oh, great, now she sounded prissy. And not at all honest.

His smile was back showing off his even white teeth. And he was playing with her the way a cat did a mouse. She needed to talk to Rosanna—really badly. She needed advice from a pro. Because there was no way she was letting Lorenzo Hall win this with such one-sided ease. She wasn’t going to roll over and be the latest in what she was certain was a very long line—at least not without scoring some points of her own. For nor was she going to cut off her nose to spite her face. She wasn’t going to deny herself a moment of pure pleasure should the opportunity arise. Yes, he bothered her—like that. Yes, she wanted him.

But she’d make like Rosanna and have him on her terms. For once in her life she was going to turn her back on responsibility; she’d take a risk and go for something she wanted. She just had to figure out how.

Lorenzo knew he was being naughty. But there was that bit in him that had always derived pleasure from taking risks. From doing exactly what society said he shouldn’t—stretching the boundaries as far as he could and stopping only just before they broke.

He had matured—his transgressions were nothing near the edge he’d veered towards all those years ago. He stayed on the right side of the law now. But this oh-so-perfect Miss made him push it. Even just this little bit, to risqué, to rude, when really he wanted to ravish—really, really badly.

The look on her face had been worth the dodgy removal of his shirt. So worth it—even if he was struggling to contain his wayward hormones now. He just wanted to reach out and pull her against him—hard. His skin was on fire—had been since she’d touched him in his apartment the other day. Her small, cool hand hadn’t soothed him at all—had only stirred the desire he’d already been battling to control. In those first twenty-four hours when the sickness was at its worst, he’d done nothing but dream of her. He was still dreaming of her and where he wanted that hand.

He’d been working too hard, round the clock with no room for fun. But it should ease up soon. Once the bar was open he’d be able to take a step back. And have some fun. Then again, there was no reason why he couldn’t have some fun right now.

Her eyes had narrowed. He could just about see the cogs turning and whirring in her brain. The vixen-with-training-wheels looked as if she was plotting.

A phone rang—hers. Her hand went to her bag. He was disappointed to see her move. But he didn’t move away. Took too much pleasure in watching her shrink back an awkward inch as she answered. But felt the pleasure turn to ash when he heard the male tones. He listened as she organised.

‘Yes, don’t worry, Ted. I’m picking it up on my way home. I’ll drop it round before six.’

Who the hell was Ted? Lorenzo waited ’til she said goodbye. Then let the power of silence work its magic.

‘That was my brother. Sorry,’ she finally said.

He took the phone from her hand and switched it off. ‘When you’re with me, all your attention is with me.’

Her eyes widened. He watched her swallow.

‘On work,’ he added, way too late.

He held out her phone for her to take back. Smiling inside as he saw her jerky movements. Yeah, he liked the way he could bother her. Because she really bothered him. He took a careful step away—right now they both needed a minute. ‘I’ll go get my shirt and then we’ll go through the stuff for Whistle, right?’

Sophy poured the entire contents of the ice tray into her glass—not caring that half the blocks fell out onto the bench and skidded onto the floor. She was unbearably hot—Lorenzo putting his shirt on had made no difference. For over an hour she’d suffered—sitting at the desk while he hovered beside her, behind her. Filling in the holes that had appeared in the days when she’d been working without the information only he or Cara could provide. She’d had the rest of the day to recover—but she hadn’t succeeded. She gulped down half the glass of water, sagged against the bench, she was so out of her depth.

‘Where have you been? I’m only home for half a day and I wanted us to go for a pedicure and—’

Sophy turned, dropping the glass in the sink. ‘You’re back!’ Thrilled, she ran across the room and hugged her elusive flatmate.

‘Okay, you’ve missed me too.’ Rosanna’s arms came round her and tightened. Then pushed her away. ‘Shirts, doll, we can’t crush our shirts.’

Sophy laughed. In the sentence of life, Sophy figured she was like a verb—the action, the one who got things done. Not very exciting perhaps, but necessary. Rosanna, however, was the exclamation mark. The rare beauty that could fill a whole paragraph—a whole room—with excitement. She even looked like one. Always dressed in black, she was a thin streak of long limbs, her glossy dark hair swept in a high ponytail that swung halfway down her back. She was full of vitality, and sheer outrageousness.

‘Now where have you been? I landed hours ago and have been lonely ever since and now the taxi to take me back to the airport will be here in ten. What’s up with your mobile?’

Sophy walked back to the bench to find and refill her glass. How was she going to explain this one? Rosanna was not going to be impressed. ‘I’m doing some admin work.’

Rosanna frowned. ‘You’ve got a job?’

‘Only for a few weeks. Their usual administrator’s baby arrived sooner than expected.’

‘Baby okay?’

‘Baby’s fine.’

‘So why couldn’t they get a temp? Why did it have to be you?’ Rosanna rolled her eyes. ‘Who asked you?’

‘Cara, the new mother, is a good friend of Victoria’s.’

‘Of course she is. Of course you couldn’t say no.’ Rosanna gave a theatrical sigh as she went to the pantry and pulled out a bottle of wine. ‘So where’s the job?’

‘You heard of the Whistle Fund?’

Rosanna wolf-whistled as she unscrewed the cap of the bottle. ‘Alex Carlisle and Lorenzo Hall. Who hasn’t heard of them? Alex got married recently and Lorenzo’s someone you don’t forget. Ever.’

Well, that was true. His image was burned on Sophy’s brain, every inch of skin, muscle and pure man.

‘Every bit as good as he looks, apparently,’ Rosanna drawled.

‘You’ve hooked him?’ A hot flash of envy sliced through Sophy.

‘No,’ Rosanna said, pausing as she poured the crimson wine. ‘Not that I’d turn him down. But the one time our paths crossed I didn’t even score a second glance.’