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“Um,” I say.
He laughs. “Current position excluded. This was for your own safety. But you know what I mean, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I have rules.” His eyes narrow, and the muscles along his jaw ripple. “A lot of them.”
“James warned me.”
“Getting involved with an assistant is a hard no.”
Too bad my nipples didn’t get the memo.
I let out a shaky breath. “Getting involved with my boss is a hard no for me, too.”
“Then we’re on the same page.”
And the same table.
I nod. “I think we can get up now,” I say, throwing up a silent prayer that he can’t feel my pebbled nipples pressing into his hard chest. “The plane has stabilized.”
“Slowly,” he says. “Any fast movement could turn your stomach again.”
I inch up from his hardness. And my God, every movement is agonizing, like slowly tearing a bandage off—if said bandage were covering every erogenous zone in my body. Will follows me up and stays close as he guides me to my seat.
“Sit here,” he commands in a soft voice, and while I’m not one to take orders, a shiver goes through me at his. “I’ll open the bed.”
I do as he says, noting the way his T-shirt strains against his biceps as he opens the sofa and makes me a bed. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and smooth my hair from my face. I glance down, and groan when I see the water stains on my shirt. In all the commotion, I left my blanket behind and now my nipples are staring straight at the man turning my way. Is the universe trying to play some cruel joke on me? I’m a good person. Kind to the elderly and animals. Yet...this.
Before I can cover up, his glance drops, and his eyes linger on my puckered nipples for a brief second.
“Khloe.”
“Yeah?”
“Your blanket,” he says gruffly, but I’m already reaching for it.
Get it together, girl. I might be attracted to him, but clearly I’m not his type. Not only does he date model-thin girls, he made it clear that I was hired to cook, clean and cater to his needs. Those needs don’t involve sex. Which is a good thing. I’m not about to mess around with my boss. Even if he asks me to.
Okay, maybe if he asks me to...
CHAPTER FOUR
Will
I CRACK OPEN a new bottle of water, pour it into a clean glass and make my way to Khloe’s room. She fell fast asleep on the plane the second her head hit the pillow and has been coming in and out of consciousness ever since. I’ve been giving her ibuprofen every four hours, and her temperature has come down, but this flu has definitely kicked her ass to the curb.
At first light I called Granddad, but Summer, who’s been checking in on him, answered, saying he wasn’t showing signs of the flu but was resting. She assured me she’d give him the message and have him call back, but I’ve yet to hear from him.
As I approach Khloe’s door, a low, agonized groan reaches my ears. I slow my steps and walk softly. After the night she had, I’m sure her head must be killing her. I inch the door open and find her sitting up in the bed, dark circles under bloodshot eyes as she catalogs the unfamiliar room.
“Will?” she asks when her gaze lands on me.
“Welcome to the living,” I say.
She smooths her hand over her wayward curls, and I can’t help but grin. With bedhead hair, cheeks puffy and red from fever, and big glassy eyes, she’s a hot mess, but goddammit, she’s still as sexy as hell. She’s off-limits, I get it, but no red-blooded male could possibly be immune to those full round curves and thighs I could really sink my teeth into. I had a handful of her lush body when I carried her from the plane to the car and then again to this bed. Not a single bone jabbed me, and I have to say I damn well liked it. Perhaps that’s why all her sexy curves infiltrated my dreams a time or two last night.
How is a girl like her still single?
