Playboy Boss, Pregnancy Of Passion Part 7

He opened the door and stood aside, letting her through first. And then her stomach rumbled. Really loudly.

She grimaced. 'Sorry.'

'Not your fault.' He shrugged. 'We could go and find the nearest fast-food place.'

True, but she also knew he was tired. Just as she would be, had she spent six solid hours driving. 'I've got a better idea. Hang on a sec.' She rummaged in her suitcase and produced a large bar of chocolate. 'My emergency stash.'

'You carry emergency chocolate?' He looked amused.

'Don't knock it.'

'I wouldn't dream of it.' He sat on the bed and gratefully took the large piece she broke off for him. 'This is good stuff,' he said after the first taste. 'Thanks.' He smiled ruefully. 'I'm sorry I've dragged you into this. The hotel wasn't meant to be this bad. A bit run-down-shabby genteel, that's what the agent told me.'

's.e.xing it up.' Oh, h.e.l.l. She really shouldn't have said that word. Sara avoided Luke's gaze. 'I mean, it might look better in the morning.'

'I don't think so, somehow.' He paused. 'Do you want the first shower while I check my emails?'

'Thanks.'

At least the water was hot. But there weren't any complimentary toiletries; Sara was glad she'd thought to bring shower gel with her.

Though there was nothing she could do about her pyjamas: a little strappy top and cropped trousers which emphasised her curves. Still, she'd worked out very quickly that Luke was a man of honour; she could trust his word.

Whether she could trust herself was another matter.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, rapidly typing on his laptop, when she emerged from the bathroom. He glanced up at her. 'That's the first time I've seen your hair down.'

She usually wore it up for work.

'I like it,' he added. 'Given that I know your low opinion of high-maintenance women, dare I ask if you use straighteners on it?'

'It's naturally like this.' She smiled wryly. 'Dead straight. And I used to hate it when I was younger. I used to go to bed in plaits, even though they were uncomfortable.'

'All for the sake of curls? You needn't have bothered.'

'I know. They usually fell out by the time I'd had breakfast.'

'That isn't what I meant-I was trying to pay you a compliment. It suits you like that.' Then he scanned her from top to toe. 'I'm glad one of us has something to sleep in.'

Sara felt her eyes widen. 'What do you mean?'

'I don't normally bother. And, as I wasn't expecting to share a room with you, I don't have any pyjamas with me.' He smiled wryly. 'Actually, I don't think I even possess a pair.'

She could well believe it. And the idea of sleeping next to him while he was completely naked... Her face felt hot, so she guessed that she'd blushed deeply. Really obviously.

He lifted a shoulder. 'Don't worry, Sara. I'll make myself decent so I won't embarra.s.s you. I'm going to have a shower.' He climbed off the bed. 'Choose which side you want. I'm not fussy.'

When Luke came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, wearing just a pair of jersey boxer shorts, Sara had arranged herself in bed, on the side with the light and the bedside table, and was busily studying a puzzle magazine. She just hoped that Luke didn't look over her shoulder at the page, or he'd see that she was filling in the answers randomly-and she knew he was sharp enough to work out that it was because her concentration was shot to pieces.

His skin was still damp from his shower, his hair was tousled and he looked utterly edible. Her pulse rate went up several notches.

'The shower was freezing,' he remarked.

Guilt flooded through her. 'Sorry. I didn't realise I'd used all the hot water.'

'In a hotel, you're not supposed to be able to use all the hot water,' he reminded her.

'Maybe it's to do with the burst pipe. I never thought about it.'

He spread his hands. 'No matter. It's probably just as well. I needed a cold shower anyway.'

Her nipples tightened. Was he saying he was just as attracted to her and needed to cool his desire? And he'd said earlier that he thought she was attractive...

She didn't dare meet his gaze, just made a noncommittal murmur and continued pretending to do her puzzle.

As he climbed into bed beside her, the mattress dipped under his weight. He s.h.i.+fted, then s.h.i.+fted again, turned his pillow over and s.h.i.+fted yet again.

'I've changed my mind about shabby genteel,' he said crossly. 'This place is just shabby. The mattress is lumpy, too.'

Sara couldn't help laughing.

'What?' he demanded.

'Complaining about the mattress. Isn't it meant to be the princess and the pea, not the prince and the pea?' she teased.

'Very funny.' But then, as she lowered her puzzle book to glance at him, he smiled wryly at her. 'Ah, ignore me, Sara. I'm tired and grumpy. I'm going to get some sleep. Goodnight.'

'Goodnight.'

He turned so that his back was to her. She pretended to do a couple more clues, then closed the book and switched off the bedside light. But she couldn't sleep; she lay awake in the darkness, aware that Luke's body was very close to hers and that he was wearing very, very little.

And it was oh, so tempting to turn on her side and curl into him. Slide her arm round his waist and press her cheek against his back, absorbing the warmth of his body-despite the fact that it was the middle of summer, the night had a distinct chill to it.

And if she cuddled in to him, what then? Would he lace his fingers through hers? Or would he turn so that he was facing her, holding her close to his heart? Would he dip his head, steal a kiss?

She knew there was an attraction between them. One neither of them had acted on, because they were being sensible and businesslike and adult about things. But she also knew that there was no reason why they couldn't act on that attraction. They were both free, both single.

Except...

After Hugh, Sara had promised herself she would only get involved with a man who'd commit to her. A man who'd put her before his job.

Luke Holloway wasn't that kind of man. He was a self-confessed workaholic who got bored easily. Who thrived on change. Who hadn't committed to any of his previous girlfriends-his relations.h.i.+ps lasted a matter of weeks. Given the little he'd told her about his past, she was pretty sure he had huge barriers in place to make sure n.o.body came too close.

No, Luke wasn't Mr Right.

And she'd do well to remember that.

She heard his breathing deepen and become regular; he was clearly asleep. And then Sara, too, turned on her side with her back to him, relaxed and allowed herself to drift off.

The following morning, Sara was aware of light filtering through the curtains. Drowsily, she started to open her eyes-and then she realised where she was.

In bed with Luke Holloway.

But not as she'd gone to sleep last night, with her back facing his.

No, somehow, in the night, they'd moved into each other's arms. Her head was on his shoulder, her leg was draped over both of his, her hand was curled intimately round his inner thigh and her fingers were resting under the hem of his boxer shorts. Against his bare skin.

Which meant there were just a couple of millimetres between her fingers and his erect p.e.n.i.s.

Oh, no.

She was practically groping him.

How on earth could she possibly face him?

The one good thing was that his breathing was even and regular and deep; clearly Luke was still asleep. If she could just move her leg without waking him, remove her hand from its intimate position and wriggle out of his arms, she could rescue the situation.

She'd just started to move, very carefully and very gently, when she became aware of a rumble of laughter in his chest. And his voice was full of amus.e.m.e.nt when he said, 'So Sleeping Beauty wakes at last...'

CHAPTER SIX.

MORTIFYING.

This was utterly, utterly mortifying.

Luke had been awake all the time-and he'd been well aware of exactly where her hands were.

'Have you been awake long?' she asked, silently praying that the answer would be no.

It wasn't.

'Long enough,' he said.

Worse and worse. So he must have been lying there for ages. And the situation must be just as awkward for him: after all, he was the one being draped over. Being groped. Hastily, she s.h.i.+fted so she was no longer sprawled over him and removed her hand. 'I'm sorry. Um...Luke, I didn't mean to...' Her voice faded and she could feel her face heating.

'I know you didn't. And I don't mind.'

But she did. She was practically squirming with embarra.s.sment.

'It's a little more than not minding,' he said softly. 'Actually, I liked having your hands on me.' He drew his free hand down her side, moulding his palm to her curves. 'And I like having my hands on you, too.'

She dragged in a breath. 'I thought you said...' That they could be adult about it. That they could share a room-a bed-without having s.e.x.

'That was last night. This is now. Different day, different viewpoint.' He gave her a wicked grin. 'And I could point out that I wasn't the person with one leg sprawled over you and my hand up your pyjamas.'

This time, she did squirm. 'That's a bit below the belt.'

His grin widened. 'So was your hand.'

Oh, help. This was getting worse and worse.

He s.h.i.+fted so that he was facing her. He still had one arm wrapped round her, holding her close to him; his cornflower blue eyes were lazy and s.e.xy and irresistible.

'Good morning,' he said softly.

'Good morning.' She just about managed to get the words out; right now, with that hot, s.e.xy expression in his eyes, she could barely breathe. Even though she knew it wasn't physically possible, desire seemed to have taken the place of oxygen in her lungs.

He dipped his head slightly and kissed the tip of her nose. 'Sara.'

This was tempting. Incredibly tempting. She could see in his face what he wanted.

The same thing that she wanted.

Though if they gave in to their mutual urge and made love, it would make their working relations.h.i.+p seriously awkward.

'We shouldn't do this,' she warned, her voice shaky.

He stroked her face. 'I know. This is a seriously bad idea. I should have more self-control.'

'We've only known each other for a couple of weeks,' she pointed out.

'That's long enough. I already know you. You're bossy.'

'Bossy?'

'Yeah, but I forgive you because you're good at what you do and you're good to work with.' He stole a brief kiss. 'You love the colour pink. You're a history nut, you like girly films and the theatre, you believe everyone's nice, you're mad enough to enjoy filing, you play the piano and you have a thing about ice cream and paddling in the sea. What else do I need to know?'

'Nothing, I suppose.' She bit her lip. 'I know hardly anything about you. Just that you're a hotshot businessman who hates clutter. You like posh chocolate biscuits, you take your coffee black with one sugar, you do kick-boxing and squash and you never watch television. You listen to dinosaur rock, and you have a seriously expensive taste in cars. That's not a lot, Luke.'

'There isn't much more to me than that.'

'I'm sure there is.'

'Shallow as a puddle, that's me.'

'Like h.e.l.l. You're more like still waters running deep.'

'Still.' He tested the word. 'Hmm. Interesting. I don't think anyone's ever said that about me before. And I'm not sure whether it goes with the other description you use for me-workaholic.'

'All right, so you live your life at a hundred miles an hour and I'm mixing my metaphors,' she said crossly.

'I've just thought of something else about you. You talk too much and there's only one way I can think of to shut you up.'