Christmas with the Maverick Millionaire. Scarlet Wilson
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as soon as she’d seen them. Maybe she should have asked Dave for more information last night. But there hadn’t really been a chance last night.
In the early morning light she peered at her watch. Nearly six. She felt wide-awake now, but she’d probably hit a wall by lunchtime today and need to lie down for an hour. Not ideal when she was supposed to be supervising Mitchell.
Mitchell Brody. She honestly couldn’t believe it. She squeezed her eyes shut and resisted the temptation to pinch herself. Her skin was tingling just at the thought of the fact that somewhere in this sprawling house Mitchell Brody could be as partially dressed as she was. Hmm. Or maybe he was in the shower, water streaming over those lean abs …
She wanted to grab her phone and start texting all her friends, but she’d signed that non-disclosure agreement, plus the fact that as a nurse she couldn’t talk about her patients.
Chances were she’d finish this job and never be able to tell anyone a thing about it. But no one could stop her imagination …
She’d never been in a situation like this before, itching to talk about something but having to stay quiet. It was weird.
There was a noise outside and her stomach gave a little flip-flop. There was only one other person in this house. He hadn’t been kidding. It was almost exactly six and Mitchell Brody was up and around.
‘Knock, knock.’ The low, sexy voice nearly made her jump a foot in the air. Without waiting for an answer, the door creaked open and Mitchell stuck his head inside. She bolted upright in bed and pulled the covers up underneath her chin. This must be what mild shock felt like; her tongue was currently stuck to the roof of her mouth.
He was smiling, obviously feeling better. He didn’t seem to notice her lack of response. ‘Hi, there. Gorgeous view, isn’t it?’ She nodded in agreement. She could hardly disagree. Mitchell was looking bright and sparky and from what she could see was dressed for the slopes. She, on the other hand, was wearing next to nothing.
She was trying not to panic. The easiest thing in the world was to drop back into nurse mode. ‘Have you checked your blood sugar this morning? What about breakfast?’
Nurse mode put her on autopilot and before she’d given herself a chance to think about it she threw back the thick duvet cover and bent forward to look for her slippers.
She heard a noise. His sharp intake of breath before she realised what she’d done. Her short red satin slip of a nightie had obviously just given him an eyeful. Her hand darted up to press against her cleavage, trying to keep the garment firmly in place. ‘Oh … I, I need to put something else on.’
But what? She’d collapsed on the bed last night with hardly a chance to open her suitcase. Thankfully, her nightie had been on top. But she couldn’t even see a glimpse of the underwear she desperately needed right now.
Mitchell had the good grace to look away. But she could see the smile plastered on his face. Yip. He’d definitely got an eyeful. ‘There’s a dressing gown in the en suite if that will help,’ he murmured. ‘But don’t feel obliged on my account.’
The heat rushed to her cheeks. Six o’clock in the morning and he was starting with his trademark cheek. He was going to have to learn that Samantha Lewis was not a morning person.
She walked quickly to the en suite and found the white fluffy robe hanging behind the door. She shrugged it on and tied the belt around her waist, trying not to think if someone else had worn it before her. There. Better. Being covered gave her the confidence boost she needed. Mitchell Brody was usually surrounded by a bunch of skeletal supermodels. She was surprised he hadn’t passed out at the sight of some more womanly curves. She was lucky, naturally slim with maybe a tiny trace of cellulite. But absolutely nowhere near a supermodel frame. He didn’t need to like it, though, because all that mattered was how she did her job.
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