Something About The Boss…. Yvonne LindsayЧитать онлайн книгу.

      Three

      Zach pressed the doorbell again. He had said seven-thirty, hadn’t he? He checked the TAG Heuer on his wrist. Yep, he was on time. He stepped back from the door and checked the side window. Lights were on inside and, yes, right there he saw a flash of movement through the crack in the drapes.

      The door slowly opened.

      “I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” Sophie said, her light-brown eyes looking bigger and sexier than ever with the smoky makeup she wore.

      “No problem, we have half an hour until our reservation.” He hesitated, waiting a second for her to invite him in, but when no invitation was forthcoming he continued, “So, shall we head out?”

      She gave him an awkward smile. “Yes, well, maybe in a minute or two. I’ve got a bit of a problem with my dress.”

      “Anything I can help with?”

      Her dress? Maybe that explained why she wasn’t opening the door fully and was talking to him with just her head popped around its edge.

      Sophie sighed. “I think you might have to.”

      Huh. Well, there was no need for her to sound so eager, he thought. He waited again for her to open the door wider and to invite him inside. Still, she didn’t move.

      “Is this something we can fix here on the doorstep?” he inquired.

      “Oh, no. No, of course not. You’d better come in.”

      She looked flustered, something he wasn’t used to seeing in her. He raised his eyebrows slightly and, taking the hint, she finally eased the door wide enough for him to pass through. She closed it behind her, keeping her back to the door.

      She was as skittish as a newborn colt. He wondered what had gotten her so riled up.

      “It’s my dress,” she started, then stopped just as suddenly and worried her lower lip with her teeth.

      His eyes were caught and mesmerized by the action. Sophie’s lips were slick with gloss, several shades richer than what she normally wore to the office, he noted, and the color made him think of candy apples and all their sugary sweetness. Would she taste like that, too, if he nibbled on her lip the way she was doing right now?

      Zach dragged his gaze from her mouth and from the forbidden thoughts she incited in him. She was strictly off-limits. What had she been talking about again? Yeah, that was right. Her dress.

      “What’s wrong with it? You look great to me,” he said, letting his eyes skim over her.

      Oh, yeah, she was the full package tonight. Her hair sat smooth and sleek in its unassuming bob. Fine, pale-blond hair that made his hand itch to reach out and feel if it was as silky soft as it looked. Desire hit hard and hot, driving a surge of lust straight to his groin. He fought to control it. This wasn’t what tonight was supposed to be about. He firmed his jaw and wrestled his libido back under control, right up until she turned around, exposing the long ivory column of her back.

      “My zipper. It’s stuck. I think I’ve caught it on the lining. Do you think you can work it loose for me?”

      Think? The woman expected him to think? Without realizing it, his hands moved to her back. One knuckle grazed against her warm skin. He felt her flinch beneath his touch.

      “Sorry,” he muttered and forced himself to concentrate on closing his fingers on the delicate tab of the zipper.

      “Do you think you’ll be able to work it loose?” she asked over her shoulder. “I’d hate to have to rip the dress.”

      He quelled a groan at the image of doing just that. Of ripping the dress from her slender form and exposing more than the hint of sheer green confection that was masquerading as underwear beneath her gown. If that was the back of her bra, he could only begin to imagine how alluring the front would be. On second thought, better not to imagine it, or his current discomfort would be nothing compared to what his body would do next.

      “Sure,” he ground out through gritted teeth. “Just give me a minute.”

      His knuckle brushed against her skin again. This time she didn’t flinch, but he could see the reaction to his touch as tiny goose bumps rose in a scatter across her skin.

      “I’m going to have to pull your dress down a bit,” he said, warning her of his intention to hold the fabric firmly against her as he pulled the tab gently up.

      There, he could feel the teeth letting go their grip on the smooth silk lining of the dress. He was almost sorry when the tab pulled free and he slid it up, closing that enticing view of her back and the band of her sheer bra.

      “You’re all set,” he said, dropping his hands to his sides and stepping back from her. “And you look amazing.”

      “Oh, thank you,” Sophie said, turning around to face him.

      “Shall we go?” he suggested, eager now to put them in a position where they were surrounded by other people and where he wouldn’t have to continually fight this urge to reach out to pull her to him and find out just how good those candy-apple lips tasted after all.

      “Let me get my bag.”

      He looked around the apartment as she went into what he assumed was her bedroom. He liked what she’d created here. Despite its compact size the apartment had a light, airy feel to it—the furnishings combining a few good pieces with what were obviously refurbished yard-sale finds. It felt like a home. More so than his expertly furnished mansion on the outskirts of town. He loved living there, but it lacked the small touches that made a place more than just somewhere to eat and sleep. Mind you, for the amount of time he’d spent there lately, what did it matter? Besides, it was a prime investment. One he wouldn’t hesitate to flick off when he was ready to move on or when the market was right. He didn’t like to attach sentiment to assets the way his parents did. You never got ahead that way.

      “I’m ready. Sorry for the delay, Zach.”

      She’d replenished her lip gloss while she’d been in her room and looked so incredibly perfect from head to toe it was difficult to equate the woman in front of him with the slightly nervy creature who’d greeted him when he’d arrived. Women. He’d never understand them fully, nor did he really want to. Who had the time? But he certainly was in the right frame of mind to appreciate this one.

      He guided her outside and waited on the path while she locked the front door, then escorted her to his gleaming black Cadillac CTS-V Coupe.

      “New car?” Sophie inquired as he held open the passenger door for her.

      “Not so new, but it’s my fun car. For weekends and special occasions only,” he said before closing the door on the inviting view of her slender legs.

      He settled himself in the driver’s seat and started up the engine, allowing the growl of the 6.2-liter V8 engine to course through him for just a moment.

      “You like it?” he said with boyish enthusiasm.

      “It certainly looks and sounds sleek and fast, but somehow I would never have pictured you driving something like this,” she commented as she fastened her seat belt.

      “No, why so?”

      “With your reputation, I’d have picked you for European flash.”

      “My reputation?” He raised an eyebrow.

      “For being a risk taker. I would have thought your idea of a fun car would be some imported speed machine.”

      He smiled. “No, proudly American all the way, that’s me.”

      She