Playboy Boss, Pregnancy of Passion. Kate Hardy

in their eyes or want him to meet their families.

      Sara Fleet was a mass of contradictions. Efficient and businesslike, and yet warm and touchy-feely at the same time. He still hadn’t quite recovered from that kiss on the cheek earlier that afternoon. God only knew how he’d stopped himself turning his face to hers and capturing her mouth.

      And right now her hand was curled round his.

      It was oh, so tempting. All he had to do was raise her hand to his lips. Kiss the backs of her fingers. Turn her wrist over and press his mouth to the pulse point, see if it jumped as hard and fast as his own heart was beating right then.

      It didn’t matter that they were standing in the middle of a public place. The rest of the world just faded away. He could pull her into his arms. Cup her face. Lower his mouth to hers. Taste the sweetness on offer…

      ‘Luke?’

      Uh. He really was losing the plot. He never, but never, allowed himself to be distracted like this. ‘Yeah, fine,’ he said, not really sure what he was agreeing to, but the warmth of her smile promised him it was something good. ‘Listen, I’d better let you go. You’ll need to pack for tomorrow.’

      ‘And you, no doubt, are planning to squeeze in some work.’

      ‘A teensy bit.’ Which might just stop him thinking about kissing her.

      ‘You,’ she said, ‘are impossible.’

      ‘So I’ve been told.’ He disentangled his fingers from hers and was dismayed to find that he actually missed their warmth and pressure.

      Not good at all.

      He was twenty-eight, not thirteen. Time he remembered that and acted like it. ‘Come on. I’ll put you in a taxi.’

      ‘I’m perfectly capable of getting the Tube.’

      ‘I know. But humour me.’

      ‘Depends.’

      ‘On what?’

      ‘I’ll take a taxi,’ she said, ‘if you agree to paddle in the sea with me on Saturday.’

      ‘And you say I’m impossible?’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Come on.’ He hailed a taxi, paid the driver and waved her goodbye.

      And the worst thing was, he couldn’t wait to see her tomorrow.

      ‘You,’ he told himself loudly, ‘need your head examined. She’s a complication you don’t need.’

      Though he had a nasty feeling that he was protesting just a little too much.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      ‘IT’LL take us five hours to get there,’ Luke said when Sara walked into the office the next morning. ‘So we’ll leave at two, when you’re back from lunch. That way we’ll get there at seven, we’ll have time to unpack and have a quick shower and then we’ll have dinner.’

      Sara looked surprised. ‘We’re not stopping on the way?’

      ‘Not unless you need a comfort break.’

      ‘What about you?’

      He wrinkled his nose dismissively. ‘I’d rather just get there.’

      ‘You’re the boss.’

      There was definite sass in her tone, but Luke didn’t rise to the bait. He spent the morning in meetings and his lunchtime reading reports. Sara was back at two o’clock precisely, as he’d expected.

      ‘Only one suitcase—and a small one at that?’ he queried.

      ‘We’re only away for two days. Why would I need more?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Clearly you mix with the wrong sort of woman.’

      ‘Meaning?’

      ‘High maintenance—the sort who can’t open a door without checking for damage to their nails. And whose top drawer is full of make-up and emergency hair spray, and who travel with six changes of clothes per day.’

      He laughed. ‘Point taken. But it’s refreshing.’ Like her shoes, though he refrained from commenting. Today’s were suede, in a deep teal colour to match her camisole top.

      Then he wished he hadn’t thought about matching shoes. Because it made him wonder if her underwear matched, too. And what she’d look like in just teal-coloured lacy underwear and those shoes and the black pearl choker, with her hair loose instead of worn up, and…

      ‘I’ll carry that. You can lock up behind us,’ he said gruffly.

      ‘I can carry my own case.’

      ‘As you say, I mix with the wrong sort of woman. I’ll carry the cases. And my laptop.’ He lobbed the bunch of keys at her; as he’d expected, she caught them automatically. She gave him a speaking look, but locked up and followed him down the stairs to his car.

      ‘Nice,’ she said, clearly appreciating the sleek lines of his car, then frowned as he opened the back door. ‘Aren’t you going to put the cases in the boot?’

      ‘There’s no room.’

      ‘What, you’re taking half a filing cabinet with you or something?’

      ‘It’s a hybrid car,’ he said. ‘The one downside is that the battery takes up most of the space in the boot.’

      ‘You’ve got an eco car?’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘I’d have expected you to go for a really flash sports car. A limited-edition thing.’

      He laughed. ‘Absolutely. I have my name on the list for an eco sports car that’s going to be on sale in about…oh, seven years’ time. But this’ll do for the time being.’