The Ceo’s Accidental Bride

“I’d prefer you didn’t do that.” Her voice faded off as he turned and met her head-on.

She wore a slim, charcoal-gray skirt, topped with a white-and-gold silk blouse. The skirt accented her slender waist, and was short enough to show off her shapely legs, while the blouse clung softly to her firm breasts. The top buttons were undone, showing a hint of cleavage and framing her slender neck. A twisted gold necklace dangled between her breasts, while matching earrings swung from her small ears beneath a casual updo.

His gut tightened predictably at the sight of her, and he took the few steps back to the middle of the room.

Did she have to look like a goddess every day in the office? Had the woman never heard of business suits or, better yet, sweatpants? Could she not show up in loafers instead of three-inch, strappy heels that would haunt his dreams?

“I would prefer…” She started for the door.

He snagged her arm.

She glanced pointedly down to his grip. “Are you going to manhandle me again?”

Manhandling her did begin to describe what he wanted to do. He’d gone home Friday night with his muscles stretched taut as steel. He’d tossed and turned, prayed for anger, got arousal, and when he finally slept, there she was, sexy, beckoning, but always out of reach.

He searched her expression. “Am I frightening you?”

“No.”

“I’m making you angry?”

“Yes.”

“Deal with it.” He wouldn’t scare her, but he truly didn’t care if she got mad.

She set her jaw. “I am.”

“Because you’re making me angry, too.” That wasn’t the only thing she was making him. But it was the only one he’d own up to-both out loud and inside his head.

“Poor baby,” she cooed.

“You’re taunting me?” That was what she wanted to do here? He could barely believe it.

“I’m keeping the upper hand,” she corrected him, crossing her arms, accentuating her breasts, increasing his view of her cleavage.

He coughed out a laugh of surprise, covering up the surge of arousal. “You think you have the upper hand?”

“I know I have the upper hand. And there’s nothing you can say or do to make me-”

He took a step forward. He was at the end of his rope here. The woman needed to wake up to reality.

Her eyes went wide, and her lips parted ever so slightly.

“Make you what?” he breathed.

“Zach.” Her tone held a warning, even as her expression turned to confusion and vulnerability.

His attention locked in on her, and her alone.

“Make you what?” he persisted.

She didn’t answer. But the tip of her tongue flicked out, moistening her lips.

He closed his throat on an involuntary groan, and his world shrank further.

He shifted closer, fixated on her lips.

His thigh brushed hers.

Her lips softened, and her breathing deepened.

He inhaled the exotic perfume, daring to lift his hand, stroking the back of his knuckles against her soft cheek.

She didn’t stop him. Instead, her eyelids fluttered closed, and she leaned into his caress. His desire kicked into action. And he tipped his head, leaning in without conscious thought to press his lips against hers.

They were soft, pliable, hot and delicious. Sensation instantaneously exploded inside his brain. He was back on the yacht, the ocean breeze surrounding them, her taste overpowering his senses, the stars a backdrop to their midnight passion.

His arms went around her, and hers around him. Their bodies came flush, the sensation achingly familiar. She molded to him, fitting tight in all the right places.

He moved her backward, pressing her against the office wall. His hands slipped down, cupping her tight little bottom, resisting an urge to drag her sharply against his hardening body. He was on fire for her.

His hands went to her hair, stroking through the softness, cradling her gorgeous face while he peppered kisses, tracing a line over her tiny ear, down the curve of her neck, along her shoulders, to the edge of her soft silk blouse.

Her fingers twined in his hairline. Her lips parted farther, her tongue finding his, her perfect breasts pushing tightly against his chest, beading so that he could feel them. She stretched up, coming onto her toes, fusing her mouth with his, and slid her hands beneath his jacket.

Those small hands were hot through the cotton of his shirt. He wanted to rip it off, strip her bare, hold her naked body against his own and finish what they kept starting.

But a jangling phone penetrated his brain. Sounds from the outer office came back into focus. He heard Amy’s voice. Someone answered, and he came to the abrupt realization of where they were.

He forced himself to stop, cradled Kaitlin’s head against his shoulder, breathing deeply, all anger toward her having evaporated.

“We did it again,” he breathed.

She stiffened, pulling away. “This is why I didn’t want the door closed.”

He let her go, pretending it wasn’t the hardest thing he’d ever done. Then he forced a note of sarcasm into his voice, refusing to let her see just how badly she made him lose control. “You don’t trust yourself?”

“I don’t trust you,” she told him for at least the third time.

Fair enough. He didn’t trust himself, either.

But it wasn’t all him. It definitely hadn’t all been him.

She straightened her blouse and smoothed her hair. “What is it you needed to see me about?”

Zach forced himself to turn away. Looking at her was only asking for more trouble.

“Can we sit?” He gestured to two padded chairs at angles to each other in front of his floor-to-ceiling windows.

Without a word, she crossed to one of them and sat down, fixing her focus on a point on the skyline outside, folding her hands primly in front of her.

Zach’s hormones were still raging, but he inhaled a couple of bracing breaths, taking a seat and focusing his own attention on a seascape painting on the wall past Kaitlin’s right ear.

“I just spoke to my grandmother’s lawyer,” he explained, composing and discarding a number of approaches on the fly. He had to convince her to pull back on the renovations. It was more important than ever, and he couldn’t afford to screw this conversation up.

Kaitlin’s attention moved to his face, her lips pursing, green eyes narrowing. “What do you mean by that?”

He gave up and met her gaze. She was so damn gorgeous, feisty, challenging. Even now, he wanted to take her back into his arms and change the mood between them. “Just what I said.”

“What happened?” She jerked forward in her chair. “Am I out of the will? Did you find a loophole? Are you firing me?” Then she jumped to her feet. “If you’re firing me, you should have said something before…” She gestured with a sweeping arm, across the office to the spot where they’d kissed. “Before…”

Zach stood with her. “I am not firing you. Now, will you sit back down.”

She watched him warily. “Then what’s this about?”

“Sit down, and I’ll tell you.” He gestured to her chair and waited.

She glared at him but finally sat.

He followed suit, refocusing. This wasn’t going well. It was not going well at all. “A problem has come to light with my grandmother’s charitable trust.”

Kaitlin’s features remained schooled and neutral.

“There’s been some money-a lot of money-embezzled from the bank account by a former employee.”