Unbuttoned By Her Maverick Boss(8)

By: Natalie Anderson


Lorenzo was so shocked he couldn’t speak for a full minute. He repeated her words in his head several times. Still didn’t believe it. ‘You’ve what?’

‘I’ve got a nurse coming. I’ve got work to get on with, so does Kat, and you can’t be left alone.’

Can’t be left alone? What did she think he’d been all his life? ‘You can tell your nurse she’s not necessary.’

‘No. Too late for that.’ She moved back to the table and took away the empty glass. ‘She’s on her way.’

Oh, she thought she was so damn competent, didn’t she? ‘She’ll have a mobile. Call it.’ Wasn’t getting a doctor around enough for this woman? Another tremor shook him from the bones out. Blow the fever—he was boiling mad.

‘Don’t bother trying, Lorenzo,’ she said coolly, cutting him off before he’d even got started. ‘She’s on her way and she’s staying.’

He gritted his teeth and glared at her. He’d never felt this frustration—hadn’t felt this useless since he was a kid being shunted from place to place with no say in it.

He closed his eyes as a wave of utter weariness hit him. Okay, he had been working hard—even harder than usual recently. He didn’t know when his hunger for success would be filled. Always he was chased by the feeling that it could be whisked away from him, that he’d wake up one day and find himself with nothing. So he worked, worked, worked—building the base bigger. He could never have enough of the security he needed.

But investing in Vance’s bar idea might have been one project too many. He’d sent all his staff and resources there for the last week. Helping him get ready for the big opening night—which Lorenzo was going to miss at this rate. As a result his own offices had been sadly neglected. The Whistle Fund in particular. It wouldn’t take too much to get it right again, but it needed time that he simply didn’t have right now. He’d been working twenty-hour days in the last fortnight as it was. So Cara’s office was a mess. It was stupid, but there was a big part of him that hated this woman seeing it like that.

Sophy—the supremely interfering piece of efficiency.

And how could he be finding her remotely attractive? She was so damn quick and proper and right it was nauseating. Had she ever made a mistake in her life? He so didn’t think so. And if she had, he bet she’d never admit to it.

Utterly perfect, wasn’t she?

He shifted under the rug. She was perfect—like a porcelain doll. Creamy skin and a blonde bob that sprang into neat curls at the ends—how long did it take her to get it to sit just so? Then there was that little nose and the lips that had a sweet cupid’s bow that begged to be kissed. And big blue eyes that went even bigger when she looked at him—a blend of intense interest and reserve. She looked as if she wanted but was wary. She half teased and then withdrew again. It made him want to pounce all the more. He saw her gaze flick over him again. Damn the weakness in his bones. Because that look in her eyes made him want to strip her bare—inch by beautiful inch—and find out whether the hint of the fire he could see really was just the glow from an inferno beneath. He sure as hell was fantasising it was.

Only he was so damn helpless.

That one last part of his body refused to acknowledge the sickness. He raised his knees, lifting the rug to hide the evidence, and mentally berated himself. So inappropriate. It must be the fever putting these kinds of thoughts into his head.

He looked at her, she was speaking briskly into her phone again. Some other poor soul was at the mercy of her efficiency. He was beyond even trying to listen. All he wanted was to rip the gadget from her and press his mouth to hers—just to shut her up. Just to slake the lust. So damn irresistible. So damn impossible. For one thing he was harbouring a million nasty bugs in his throat, for another she just wasn’t his type. Not at all. Not when he was on form.

But he felt an almost feral need to touch her—had done since the second he’d first seen her looking so snippy out the back of the warehouse. He wanted to muss her up so bad he wanted to growl.

Sick. He really was sick.

‘Okay, that’s everything settled, then.’

‘You’re going?’ Oh, man. He grimaced. Where had that sound of disappointment come from?

She paused. ‘You didn’t think I was going to stay, did you? I’ve got other things to do. And you said it yourself, Lorenzo—you don’t need a mother, or any kind of sympathy.’

‘So you’re going to leave me here at the mercy of some stranger?’ He opted to try to wheedle. Thinking on it, he’d rather have her here than some nurse—even if she was a little too efficient for his liking. Did she never stop and slow down? She should slow down—he’d make her. Give it to her really, really slow. Bend her back and lick all the way up her gorgeous length until she… Hell, his eyes were probably glazing over. He shut them tight. It made the fantasy worse. It made the aching in his gut worse.

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