Her Boss by Day...(7)

By: Joss Wood

‘Brave...’ Willa murmured. ‘Especially the gym part, since the marketplace is dominated by Just Fit. And Just Fit has gone on an acquisition drive to buy up the rats and mice gyms that aren’t allowing them marketplace domination.’

Rob lowered his bottle and sent her a long look. Then he lifted his eyebrows at Amy, who just laughed.

‘She’s not just a pretty face,’ she said.


And she wasn’t done. ‘It takes a set of brass balls to take on two competitors, firmly established and synonymous with Australian health and fitness, one of which is about to list on the ASX. I intend to buy some of their shares when they go public in...’ Smarty-Pants squinted at her watch ‘...six weeks’ time.’

Rob just stared at her as she rested her chin in the palm of her hand and gave Amy a puppy-dog look. ‘I want a set of brass balls, Ames. How do I acquire my own?’

Amy threw back her head and laughed. ‘Wills, how many of those Screaming Orgasms have you had?’

Willa slid her eyes to the row of cocktail glasses in front of her and counted them off. ‘Not enough real ones and four fake ones.’

Willa and Amy exchanged a long look before they both bellowed with laughter.

Oh, jeez—drunk girl humour. About orgasms. Shoot him now. But he had to admit it wasn’t fake girl laughter but a real, joyous exchange of humour between two friends who understood each other’s subtext. Their laughter made him smile.

‘So how long have you been friends?’ he asked, picking at the corner of his beer label with a short, blunt fingernail.

He hoped that his question would distract them from further Screaming Orgasm humour—especially since, A. He hadn’t had one recently, and B. He’d just decided to stay for another beer, another half-hour.

‘Eight, nearly nine years—with far too many lost years in between,’ Willa replied.

Seeing the confusion on his face, she placed her hand on his bare forearm and—whoa! What the hell...? Lust and attraction shot up his arm and exploded in his brain. He went stock-still and tried to work through his reaction. He’d never, since the time he’d found out that girls had fun things he liked to play with, had such a rocketing blood from his head reaction to the simple touch of fingers on his skin.

He looked at her again and realised that she wasn’t just pretty—she was damn sexy. High cheekbones, a pouty mouth and those amazing siren eyes. He allowed his own eyes the pleasure of skimming over smooth shoulders, smallish breasts and that too thin but utterly feminine body.

He tipped his head slightly to the side and saw that her sage-green sleeveless dress disappeared under the table. He needed to see more. On the pretext of bending sideways to scratch his foot, he looked under the table. The dress ended mid-thigh and, holy Moses, those legs were long and toned. Since one nude heel had dropped off a slim foot, he saw that her toes were tipped in tropical orange polish.

Hot, hot.

‘...and then Amy left the Whitsundays—’

Rob blinked as he lifted his head and came back to the conversation. He was both amused and irritated with himself. He never went on mental walkabouts—and especially not over women.

‘You’re going to have to back up, Wills. Rob didn’t hear a damn thing,’ Amy drawled, lifting her beer bottle to her lips and raising a knowing eyebrow in his direction.

Rob felt an urge to pull out his tongue at her, which he manfully suppressed. He quickly rewound and took a stab in the dark. ‘So, have you kept in contact with your other mates from those days?’

‘Well, I talk to Luke my brother all the time. He was the resort manager.’

Amy sat up straighter and leaned forward. Hmm, Rob thought, interesting reaction to the mention of his name. Something churning there.

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