Meet Bradley Knight
He lifted his beer and finished it in one slow swallow. All she could do was stare.
Oh yeah. Bradley was flirting alright. Batting her about like a lion with a moth. She wondered what she might do if he decided to stop playing and got serious. The very idea petrified her to the spot.
He left his empty glass on the table then wrapped his glass-cooled hand around her foot, his thumb resting in a sweet spot in the sensitive curve of her sole. He pressed down gently, but knowingly. She jolted as an unexpected tremor wracked her.
Utterly out of her depth, she reached for her drink.
Bradley got there first, snatching it out of her way. But not before her fingers had brushed across his. Pure and unadulterated sexual attraction wrapped itself around her like a wet rope, slippery and unyielding. And even in the darkness she was sure his pupils had grown so large the colour of his eyes was completely obscured.
From an accidental touch. Of fingers. Oh God...
Bradley swirled ice around in her drink. Once. Twice. Each time ice hit glass her nerves twanged sharply, like an out of tune guitar.
She sat on her hands and bit her lip. He’s your boss. You love your job. He’s not looking for forever. And you are. Just allowing this flirtation to continue is going to change everything.
Then his face screwed up as if he’d just sucked on a lemon. ‘Holy heck, that’s atrocious! How can you drink this slop?’