How to Sleep with the Boss by Janice Maynard

Author:Janice Maynard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2015-01-08T16:00:00+00:00

Thirteen

Libby was having the most wonderful dream. She was floating in the ocean, the sun beaming down in gentle benediction. The temperature was exactly right. A warm blanket cocooned her as the breeze ruffled her hair.

Some sound far in the distance brought her awake with a jerk. Every cell in her body froze in stunned disbelief. Patrick Kavanagh lay half on top of her, his regular breathing steady and deep.

Holy Hannah. What had she done? Other than make it perfectly clear to Patrick that she was ready for dalliance with no expectation of anything more lasting than a weekend fling...

She eased out from under her lover, wincing when he muttered and frowned in his sleep. Fortunately, he settled back into slumber. He wasn’t kidding about the nap. On the other hand, he probably needed it. The preceding week hadn’t been a walk in the park. Maybe Patrick had experienced the same disturbing nightmares she had.

Caves with endless tunnels. Suffocating darkness. Musty air. Crypts and death. That’s what came from having a too-vivid imagination.

Tiptoeing around the bed, she made her way into the other room and found her carry-on with her toiletry bag. Since she was naked as a baby at the moment, it also seemed prudent to locate her gown and robe. Patrick didn’t stir when she quietly opened the bathroom door.

Once she was safely on the other side, she exhaled shakily. Nothing in the course of her admittedly limited sexual experience—much of it negative—had prepared her for Patrick’s lovemaking. He was thorough. And intense. And enthusiastic. And generous. Did she mention generous? She’d lost track of her own orgasms. The man was a freaking genius in the bedroom. Who knew?

She wrapped a towel around her hair to keep it dry, and took an abbreviated shower. The thought of getting caught in the act was too terrifying to contemplate. The man had seen her naked. But that didn’t mean a woman didn’t like her privacy.

When she was clean and dry, she put on her silky nightwear. The soft ivory gown and robe were old, but still stylish and comfy. The fact that they were very thin gave her pause, but it was better than being nude.

Her hair did well with nothing more than a good brushing. Now all she had to do was pretend to be blasé, make her way through a fancy dinner and convince Patrick to sleep on the sofa.

She needed to put some distance between them. A barricade against doing something stupid. He’d already told her that marriage wasn’t in the cards for him. Which meant this relationship was going nowhere.

If she let herself share his bed again, all bets were off. She might end up begging, and that would be the final indignity. He’d already called her a misfit once. She was sure as heck not going to let him pity her for crushing on him like a teenage girl.

She sat on the edge of the bathtub for ten minutes, trying to decide how to stage her return to the bedroom.

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