Promoted to Wife? Read Free Page A

highly intelligent. She knew what he needed before he needed it. She knew how he had his coffee, she reminded him to eat, she always came in under deadline.
    And she was an amazing kisser.
    The stairs creaked beneath his feet, an aural protest to echo his own irritation. He wasn’t confident Emily would return, which meant he had to think up a Plan B.
    Emily blinked a lot when she was uncomfortable. It was like a nervous tic, those thick, impossibly long lashes fluttering away over navy-blue eyes obscured by glasses. He’d noticed it the first time he’d casually asked about her weekend. Intrigued and amused, he’d been compelled to test his theory. The confirmation had come when they’d finally negotiated a major contract and he’d struck up some friendly banter to relieve the tension.
    She’d also blinked like that after he’d kissed her.
    He paused on the path, the cheerful mid-spring warmth doing nothing to ease the headache sluggishly throbbing away. Damn, how many prompts did he need to give a woman? But she’d steadfastly refused to acknowledge that kiss.
    A kiss that had rocked his world in more ways than one.
    It had, just for one moment, taken his mind off this entire VP Tech fiasco and all the lingering anger it dredged up. Just one moment, and yet long enough for a powerful need to arrest his brain, rush into his groin and conjure up all sorts of delicious, slick images of Emily in his bed.
    She wasn’t only the best damn assistant he’d ever had: she’d somehow managed to pique his interest to the point that focusing on work had become a major effort these last few months.
    And for the first time in months, he wanted. Wanted with an unrelenting intensity.
    He scanned the watery view, automatically picking out a handful of his company’s early designs on the opposite bank, lingering on the smooth clean lines of those multimillion dollar homes with a deep flush of pride. Once-average homes that he’d single-handedly redesigned, rebuilt and flipped for a profit. And even now, with full-time staff and a corporate developmentdepartment, he still designed. Yes, he could now afford to pick and choose his clientele, but those original projects were still a humble reminder of how far he’d come.
    His days were perfectly streamlined. He enjoyed his work, the women he dated and his life in general. He had peace—unlike the years that had come before, years of constant emotional upheaval, of stress and migraines, sleepless nights and endless, conflict-filled days.
    He’d worked like a demon for his new life. If his father had taught him one thing, it was that nothing worth having ever came easy.
    Especially when it came to pursuing a woman.
    He’d persuade Emily to return and then take the time to find out if his fuzzy memories were correct, that she’d been an eager and willing participant in that kiss.
    He glanced back up to her apartment door, to the closed blinds across her living room window.
    Waddyaknow. The same day his life had taken a crazy turn, he’d finally gotten an answer to months of idle speculation about what lay under Emily’s severe business suits. She’d fronted up at his office without her trademark glasses, dressed in a baggy T-shirt and ratty Ugg boots, a worn denim skirt cupping a perfectly delicious curvy butt.
    His assistant hid a smoking body. Why?
    If he closed his eyes, he could still feel the imprint from those luscious breasts as she’d walked him into his house. Oh, yeah. She’d been into that kiss even if it hadn’t lasted for more than three nanoseconds.
    Deep in the fantasy, the stranger was almost upon him before he clicked.
    The man was built like a brick outhouse: a bouncer’s massive body crammed into a sleek suit, all restrained menace beneath the sheen of barely there respectability. It wasn’t just the man’s overwhelming physical presence that set off warning bells as he