Promoted to Wife? by Paula Roe

Author:Paula Roe [Roe, Paula]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, Contemporary
ISBN: 9780373730896
Publisher: AudioGO
Published: 2011-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Ten

You could learn a lot about a woman by the way her hands moved when she talked. Some waved them animatedly, some used touch either subconsciously or with deliberate effect. And some liked to keep their own personal space. Emily, Zac realized, was one of the latter. She made a point of avoiding any physical contact. No brush of the fingers when exchanging files. No accidental arm contact in the elevator or corridor.

At first he thought it was her steely determination to keep that line drawn, but she retained the personal boundary even when they were alone in his office.

He stared at his closed door, then down at the remnants of his devoured lunch burger before shoving it all in the trash.

It shouldn’t matter. It didn’t matter. Her response was a pointed reminder of his position—him boss, her employee. Yet last night they’d been more. With him buried deep in her wet warmth, her legs wrapped around his waist as they rocked in that age-old rhythm.

Yeah, it had been much, much more.

With a soft curse, he ripped his mind back to the present. A hard-on at work was the last thing he needed, not when he had to deal with a hundred other things—like the upcoming Point One event. And then there was Cal, Victor and the whole VP Tech debacle.

He shoved back his chair and stalked to the door, yanking it open.

“Reschedule my one o’clock,” he said, knowing his voice came out too harsh. “I’m going out.”

Emily nodded and picked up the phone. “Will you be back for your three-thirty?”

No questions, just acceptance. Her composure rankled, her once-valued hyper-efficiency now just another thing that drove him crazy.

“Yes.”

He couldn’t escape the building quickly enough, the sudden desire to get behind the wheel and drive urging him on.

So he did. He drove north, up the Gold Coast Highway, then turned right onto Waterways Drive and followed the signs to Seaworld. He passed Palazzo Versace, the Sheraton Mirage, the various takeaways.

On the way he made a few calls and set up more meetings. He succeeded in not thinking about Emily or last night until he passed Seaworld itself, until the road became narrower, the surrounding vegetation thicker.

The western arm of Gold Coast Spit appeared on his left, the sandy peninsula and watery inlet filled with yachts and recreational fishermen. The road continued, through the trees that formed part of Main Beach Park, until the Spit car park appeared.

He pulled in, gravel crunching beneath the tires, and cut off the engine. The classic AC/DC song abruptly ceased, giving way to the familiar sound of pounding waves through the trees and sand dunes ahead.

Easing from the car, he breathed deep, last night’s rain salty and wild on the air. He loved this spot, even more than the small strip of private beach that flanked his house.

He grabbed a bag from the boot and pulled out a wetsuit before heading toward the small board-rental shed. Ten minutes later he was jogging down to the beach toward the flags, a surfboard under his arm.

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