And The Winner Gets...Married!. Metsy Hingle

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And The Winner Gets...Married! - Metsy Hingle


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if I belonged to a health club. But since I don’t, there’s really no reason for me to hurry,” she said, smiling up at him.

      The smile intrigued him almost as much as she did. There was something both innocent and seductive about her smile. And it did nothing to ease his arousal. Taking a step back, Justin tried to shake off this new awareness of Kim as a desirable female.

      “You’re scowling at me again,” she accused.

      “Not at you. At myself,” he corrected, feeling like an idiot. Of course she didn’t belong to a health club. The fact that his family and most of his friends worked out regularly at a club certainly didn’t mean that Kim did the same. Chances were she couldn’t afford that kind of luxury. Because a luxury is what it was. It was the reason he refused to join the fancy clubs and worked out at a hole-in-the-wall gym. He stared at her and suddenly realized that other than the fact that Kim was single and had no family—facts his brother had told him when he’d taken over the position of vice president of marketing—he knew very little about Kim’s personal life despite the fact that they worked so closely together. It was hard to imagine her all alone when he had such a large family himself. “I guess this is my night for apologies. That sounded terribly arrogant of me. I shouldn’t have assumed that you belonged to a health club.”

      “Don’t be silly. It was a logical assumption.”

      “No, it wasn’t. And I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”

      “You didn’t,” she insisted. “Please. There’s nothing to be sorry about. Connelly Corporation is very generous to its employees, and most of the clerical staff belongs to health clubs or spas. I could, too, if I wanted.”

      “But you don’t want to?”

      She shrugged. “I just don’t know when I’d get the chance to use it.”

      “Which is my fault.”

      She tipped her head, studied him. “And how do you figure that?”

      “Look what time it is and you’re still here. I work you too hard.”

      “No, you don’t. Besides, I don’t work nearly as hard as you do,” she countered.

      Justin snorted. “I don’t have a choice. My family is depending on me. You, on the other hand, don’t have any excuse. I mean it, Kim. No more late nights like this for you.”

      “But I told you, I like my job. I like working with you.”

      “Even when I’m a royal pain in the neck?” he teased.

      “Even then,” she said. “Now, unless you need me for something, I’d really like to finish transcribing these notes,” she told him, and reclaimed her seat in front of her computer screen.

      “The notes can wait until tomorrow.”

      “They could, but there’s no reason why they have to.”

      “Correct me if I’m wrong, but which one of us is the boss here?”

      Kim laughed. “You are. But all I need is ten minutes to finish, and then I promise I’ll head for home and a long, hot soak in the tub.”

      An image of Kim naked in a bathtub covered only in bubbles had Justin gritting his teeth. “Scouts’ honor?”

      “Scouts’ honor,” she said and held up three fingers.

      “All right. You’ve got ten minutes and then I want you out of here.”

      “You got it,” she promised and went back to work.

      When Justin exited his office fifteen minutes later, Kim was still at her desk, staring at her computer screen and rubbing the back of her neck with one hand.

      Even though his brain told him it was a mistake, he started toward her. “Here, let me do that,” he said, and pushed her hand away and replaced it with his own.

      “You don’t have to do this,” she argued.

      Justin ignored the comment. “No wonder you’re hurting. Talk about tense. Relax,” he commanded, and began to massage her shoulders. Determined to prove to himself that his earlier reaction to Kim had been a fluke, a momentary aberration caused by spending too much time at work and neglecting his social life, he went to work on those stiff muscles. Satisfied that, by analyzing the situation, he now had any earlier sexual attraction he’d experienced toward Kim firmly under his command, Justin skillfully tackled the mass of knots along her spine. Using his thumbs, he applied pressure to a particularly tight spot between her shoulder-blades and began to knead it.

      “This really isn’t necess— Oh…”

      His control slipped a notch at the sounds coming from Kim. Steeling himself, Justin reminded himself this was Kim Lindgren. Kim his assistant. Kim his right hand. Kim, whom he had no right to think of as a woman. But when she moaned again, his body reacted. Desire fisted in his gut, sent heat firing through his veins.

      So much for being a master of control, Justin decided. Calling himself ten kinds of fool, he tortured himself further by inching closer and breathing in her scent. Roses, he thought as he dragged in another whiff. Since when had the scent of roses become a turn-on?

      But he forgot all about the way she smelled when Kim tipped her head forward, giving him further access to her neck. Although he knew he was playing with fire, he reached for the strands of hair trailing her nape. They slid across his fingers like wisps of silk and did nothing to cool his blood.

      The sight of that pale strip of skin where the edge of her blouse ended sent another wave of heat rushing through him. Before he could stop himself, he moved his fingertips along her bare neck. Soft and warm was all he could think. And before he could shut off the voice in his head, he heard the question. Would she be this soft and warm all over?

      “You have magical hands,” Kim murmured.

      The husky timbre of her voice stripped off another layer of his control. “Kim, I—”

      The sound of the elevator bell in the hall outside the suite sent sanity rushing back. Saved by the bell, Justin thought, and dropped his hands to his sides. Taking a step back, he dragged in a steadying breath just as the building’s chief of security entered the suite.

      “Evening, Mr. Connelly. Ms. Lindgren,” Tom Jenkins said.

      “Good evening, Tom,” Justin told the other man.

      “Hi, Tom,” Kim said softly.

      “I’m just making my rounds. You folks going to be here awhile longer?”

      “I’ll be here for another hour or so, but Ms. Lindgren is leaving now. As a matter of fact, I’d appreciate if you’d see her to her car.”

      “Sure thing, Mr. Connelly.”

      “But, Justin, my notes—”

      “Can wait until tomorrow,” he said briskly. “You’ve put in enough hours for one day. Go home, Kim. I’ll see you in the morning.”

      Kim’s expression fell, and he could have sworn it was disappointment he read in those blue-green eyes. But before he could change his mind, he turned on his heels and retreated to his office, where he sat down at his desk and dropped his head into his hands.

      Talk about close calls. He was lucky, Justin assured himself. He’d come dangerously close to crossing the line with Kim just now, and tomorrow he would be grateful he hadn’t done so. Because if he’d kissed her as he’d wanted to do, he had no doubt he would have made a major mistake on both a personal and a business front. Silently patting himself on the back, he told himself he’d done the right thing. He’d done the noble thing. He’d walked away when every instinct in him had wanted to pull her close, taste her mouth.

      Yes, he was lucky, he reiterated. They both were. Lifting his head, Justin stared unseeingly at the work spread out across his desk. And as the memory of Kim’s scent, the feel of her skin


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