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  She nods. “I will. And, Mr. Remington?”

  “What is it, Mrs. Emerson?”

  “Thank you,” she says.

  I shoot her a tight smile. “No one treats you that way. Not while I’m around. Now go find us an ordinary cab, but make sure it’s air-conditioned.”

  Chapter 2

  Luke

  The gap-toothed cab driver sings softly to himself as he navigates through the hellish traffic of downtown Bangkok. He has a lousy voice, but I vastly prefer it to any forced attempt at small talk. I know they’re just angling for a better tip. The joke’s on them. I tip so much better when they say nothing at all.

  I look out of my window. Bangkok never changes. Tall buildings, temples, golden Buddha statues everywhere, busy sidewalks, men and women in colorful clothes. Even where we are now, stuck in traffic, there are enough glimpses into Bangkok’s Asian culture to make the place feel exotic and mysterious. At least, that’s how it felt the first time I came here.

  But travel the world enough and nothing really surprises you anymore. I’ve traveled a lot, seen a lot, and done a lot. This is the first trip I am taking with my PA. I think I heard one of the managers mention that this might even been her first trip abroad. All of this must be so new to her.

  I turn to look at her.

  She is leaning forward and gazing out the windows, her eyes wide and shining. I follow her gaze and look at the shops passing by. For a moment, it’s like I’m seeing the world through her eyes. The city is vibrant and alive. The way it had been when I first came here. Young and starry-eyed. Yes, Bangkok has a way of making the rest of the world seem dull and gray.

  My eyes stray back to her face.

  She looks almost beautiful in her excitement. I find myself staring. Seeing her from the side, without her glasses in the way, is a revelation—her eyes are quite stunning. I thought they were brown, probably because I’ve never paid much attention. Now I see they’re an extraordinary hazel. The mixture of green, brown and gold glow in the sunlight, and for a timeless second, I’m captivated.

  Then I disgustedly shake myself from my thoughts and remind myself this is Mrs. Emerson. My married PA. Yes, I care about her, but not like that. Never like that.

  Suddenly, the silence becomes awkward for me, and I need to say something. Anything. “So I take it this is your first time in Thailand?”

  She turns to look at me, a warm, open smile on her face. It transforms her. “It is,” she admits. “I never knew how beautiful it is.”

  “If you think this is beautiful, you should see outside the city. It’s unlike anywhere else.”

  She sighs. “I’d love to, but this isn’t a vacation, remember?”

  I smile at the way she throws my words from earlier back in my face. I wouldn’t let most people get away with that, but for some weird reason I let her. “No, it’s not. But maybe you can find some time in the schedule tomorrow and the day after to look around.”

  “Will you join me?” Then adds quickly, “I’d be nervous to wander around alone.”

  I shake my head. “I’ll be far too busy, but you arrange for a tour guide to show you around. I’ll pick up the cost”

  Her look of excitement deflates. “If you’re working, I’m working.”

  I can’t argue with that. She is my right hand. I need her at my side. I can’t do the things I want to do if she’s not around. Still, she deserves to enjoy herself too. She works hard for me without complaint. I could give a little back. I make a mental note to figure out one fun thing for her on this trip. If I have time.

  We get to the hotel. It is five-star accommodation from top to bottom. We’re given the VIP treatment and very quickly booked in by smiling super-efficient staff and taken up to the Tower Club suite on the fifty-sixth floor. Technically, my PA and I will be sharing the space, but the suite is big enough for her to have her own bedroom and bathroom. I want her close, not on top of me.

  The lounge is a picture of luxury. A bottle of champagne and a platter of fruit and cheese is waiting on a glass table. The bellhop carries our luggage into our respective rooms. Mine has a king-size bed and hers is a single. I walk to the wall to ceiling window and look down at the view of the entire city with the river running through it like a snake. In the late afternoon sun it is quite something, but Asia also look its best at night, when you can’t see the dust and the grime. Then it will be breathtaking. The windows are triple glazed, so no sounds permeate it and it is almost hypnotic to watch the hectic world so far below in complete silence.

  “Excellent choice on the hotel,” I say.

  “Thank you, Mr. Remington.”

  I turn away from the window and clap my hands together. “Right. Dinner is in three hours. Just enough time to clean up, do some work, and get ready. I’ll grab you at quarter to eight?”

  She nods. “I’ll be ready. Let me know if you need anything else in the meantime.”

  I go into my room and close the door on her.

  The first thing I do is call down to housekeeping to pick up my suit and shirt to make sure they are pressed and presentable for tonight. It’s not that I’m worried about my appearance. Of course, I take care of myself, but I’m far from vain. Tonight though, I need to show our potential Japanese clients my best side.

  Business culture in Japan is a complicated affair, but one thing I know for sure…they are an incredibly thin-skinned lot. Little things matter to them. Even something like cursorily glancing at someone’s business before putting it away into your pocket will be taken as a lack of respect for that person’s title and rank. No, you’ve got to carefully study it and nod approvingly before putting it away. Showing up in a rumpled suit would be considered offensive.

  I peel my shirt away from my sticky skin and wash away the sticky heat of Bangkok in the shower. Feeling refreshed and blissfully cool after a shave, I come back to my bedroom. I have two hours to kill so I lounge on the bed in my boxer briefs, and start going through my pitch to my Japanese clients.

  It is then I hear the scream.

  In the blissful silence of triple glazed windows, the sound is piercingly loud. My papers slide off my lap as I leap off the bed. Sprinting across the lounge, I throw open my secretary’s bedroom door, and skid to a stop. She’s standing in the middle of the room clutching a small towel to her. She spins around and stutters, “Luke…I mean, Mr. Remington.”

  “What is it?” I ask, staring at her in disbelief. She is not wearing her glasses, her hair is cascading down her back, and her legs are long and deliciously smooth. I don’t know why, but I thought she’d have hairy legs. I blink. Damn it.

  She points a shaking finger towards the bathroom.

  Tearing my eyes away from her dripping body, I stride over to the bathroom and look inside. “What? I don’t see anything,” I say, looking around the empty bathroom.

  “Look in the tub. There’s a huge freaking spider in it.”

  “Is that all?” I ask, relieved. Hell, the way she screamed, I thought someone was stabbing her to death with a rusty knife.

  “Is that all?” she counters, her voice rising hysterically. “Go and see it. That—thing is a monster.”

  “Don’t be such a baby,” I reply as I move to the tub and look inside. It’s bright blue, furry, the size of a goddamn softball. “Shit. That is big.”

  “I told you,” she cries fearfully. “I can’t believe I was in there with that—thing. It looks like a tarantula had sex with a smurf.”

  My back is to her, so I didn’t have to hide my smile, but seriously, the spiders in the tropics are something else. “I’m sure he was just trying to get a peek at you,” I tease. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of this little peeping Tom.” I go back out to my room and grab one of my shoes. I return and it is still trying to climb the slippery sides of the bath. Alright, you little pervert. No more ogling my sexy assistant. The arthropod makes a squashing sound. Wadding up some toilet paper in my hand I scoop up the blob that looks like crushed blueberrie
s. I flush its remains down the toilet, chuck my splattered shoe in the trashcan, and turn around.

  “Problem solved.”

  She is watching me from the door with just her head poking around the door frame. Her hair is hanging in wet waves around her face. “Are you sure?”

  I roll my eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. It’s all safe now.”

  She takes a step into the bathroom and time freezes.

  She still has a towel wrapped around her, but just barely. It’s too small. In her haste to escape the shower, she must have grabbed the wrong towel. The fabric clings to her wet skin, leaving very little to the imagination.

  The swell of her breasts under the towel is shocking. They look ripe and full, and I fight a wild urge to reach out and touch them. A bead of water drips down her neck between her breasts. My eyes follow it. Fuck, there’s a lot of cleavage there. If the towel were an inch lower, I’d see everything.

  I had no idea she hid such amazing tits beneath her baggy outfits.

  I follow the curve of her body down from her breasts to her hips, then down to her exposed thighs. Her skin is creamy and flawless. I want to taste every inch of it.

  The edge of the towel comes down to the top of her legs, barely hiding her pussy from my hungry gaze. Somehow, I feel like this is more seductive than if she’d been completely naked. She’s revealing so much but not really showing anything at all. It was a tease. A turn on. My insides clench with desire, and I feel my cock stir in my boxers.

  I look up at her face quickly, not wanting her to see me eye-fucking her. Again, I’m taken by surprise at how gorgeous she looks. Her long dark hair is no longer in the too-tight bun she always wears. It falls to her shoulders in waves.

  And without her glasses, her eyes enchant me. I caught a hint of it in the cab ride over, but seeing her up close like this is like getting hit by lightning.

  It was the first time I’ve ever seen her. Really seen her. She’s been hiding her sexy body from the world under those terrible outfits. Or maybe she’s been hiding it from me. Either way, it’s a shame. A woman this fine needs to show it all off. To hide it is a crime. It’s like keeping the Mona Lisa covered up under sackcloth. The world deserves to see it.

  Jade Emerson is a masterpiece!

  I can’t reconcile the two versions of her. My plain assistant can’t possibly be the woman standing in front of me. She looks like her mind-blowingly hotter, younger sister.

  All of these thoughts run through my mind in a matter of seconds. Even then, it feels like I’ve stared too long. I’m not shy when it comes to letting a woman know how much I appreciate the sight of her, but this is my married PA. And I always keep things professional between me and my secretaries. I’m not going to stop now.

  Our eyes meet.

  Something like an electrical charge crackles in the air between us. I wonder if she feels it, too. Probably not. She called me in here to kill a spider, not so I could take advantage of the situation and stare at her almost naked body.

  At that moment, I become distinctly aware that I’m only wearing my boxer briefs. I don’t mind showing off my body. I take care of myself for that very reason. But the sight of Jade Emerson’s alluring figure is having a physical effect on me.

  I’m not rock hard yet, but I’m getting there. I need to cut the tension or things between us are going to get really awkward. I have to say something. Anything. Just to get my mind off how good she looks. To distract that animal part of my brain that is screaming at me to throw her against the wall and fuck her senseless.

  That is, of course, after I rip the towel off and see what other beautiful secrets she’s been hiding from me, and running my tongue over every inch of her…until she begs me to let her come.

  Shit, this isn’t helping.

  I have to think of something, but the only thing my brain can think about is how goddamn hot she is. So I go with that. I clear my throat to make sure she can’t hear the desire in my voice. “So, Jade. You’re looking different.”

  She peers down at herself and her cheeks turn red. “Yeah, it’—a-a I’m not wearing any clothes.”

  “It’s a good look for you.”

  Her head jerks up and she looks at me in surprise. “Mr. Remington?”

  I force a smile and raise my hands in a placating gesture. “That came out wrong.”

  It’s not that I’m nervous. In fact, it’s the opposite. The fact that I find her so attractive has kicked my sex drive into gear. I want to butter her up. I want to take things to a sexual place. That’s my natural instinct in a situation like this.

  I’m stumbling over my words because I’m fighting those instincts. I’m trying to keep things from changing between us. No matter how much my cock is telling me to let it happen. “What I mean is…” I pause. It’s getting way too hot in this bathroom. “How do I say this without totally pissing you off?”

  She bites her lower lip. “Just say it.”

  My eyes drift over her one more time and I have to force myself not to lick my lips. “Fine. You’re very attractive.”

  Her mouth gapes open, those sensual green-gold eyes wide, but I’ve already started. There’s no stopping now. The water is dripping down, drop by drop, over the arch of her neck and all I want to do is lick it off. I’m sporting a full hard-on by now. This is all so insane. I clear my throat. “I’m not hitting on you. I’m just saying this as a fact. Normally, at work, you dress in such unflattering clothes, and you keep your hair wrapped in a schoolmarm bun all the time. With a couple of new outfits and a new hairstyle, you’d be a hell of a looker.”

  Her eyes grow troubled. “I know that,” she says.

  I’m surprised by her response. “What do you mean, you know?”

  She shrugs, and her towel shifts in a very distracting way. “I’m not stupid, Mr. Remington. I know how to dress myself.”

  I stare at her, trying to understand what she’s saying. “Wait, so you dress that way on purpose? Why would you want to make yourself unattractive?”

  Her eyes lock with mine. “Because of you.”

  Chapter 3

  Jade

  What do you mean it’s because of me?” he asks, with narrowed eyes.

  Oh, shit. I didn’t mean to blurt that out to him. Usually, I’m calm, cool, and professional, the perfect assistant. I can keep my head on straight even in the most difficult scenarios, but I feel almost dizzy from the buzz of my near-death experience, and my present situation, which can only be described as bizarre.

  Up until a few moments ago, my boss has not seen me in anything that has even hinted at my figure underneath. Now, I’m standing in front of him in a towel that barely covers me. Actually, it’s so small I’m afraid even to move. Any shift could be disastrous.

  This is bad, but that’s not what has my cheeks flushed with heat. It’s the eye-popping fact that he is near nude himself. All he’s got on is a pair of distracting-as-hell boxer briefs. Let me say, right away, they leave nothing to the imagination.

  I always knew he was in great shape, but to actually see him like this? The man is a fucking god. His body is rock solid. Layers upon layers of lean muscles. One on top of another. Every one chiseled and perfectly defined, flexing beneath his inked skin with every little movement. It’s quite impossible not to stare. And I haven’t even got to that muscle bulging inside his underwear.

  Holy crap is it big or what? Nah, it has to be a trick of the light, or I’m still in shock. No one is that honking big. Still…I can almost feel the heft of it just by looking. Slickness forms between my legs that has nothing to do with the shower I just took. I tear my eyes away and meet his waiting eyes. I take a few seconds to take stock.

  1. We’re both seeing a lot of more of each other than we’ve ever seen before.

  2. I definitely like what I see which, of course is, besides the point, since…

  3. He has just made it very clear that while he thinks I’m attractive in a detached, objective way, he’s in no way hitting on me.


  4. Even after taking the massive hard-on into consideration, I have to agree with him. He’s not hitting on me. I’m not his type. I’ve seen some of the women he goes out with. They are so stunningly gorgeous, they make you want to give up and die or open up another packet of Oreos.

  So really, no actual harm has been done. And if I play this right, I could stop drowning inside ugly smocks that my grandmother wouldn’t wear and ditch those plastic glasses.

  I lick my lips apprehensively. “I wanted to tell you, but I’m worried it will piss you off.”

  “Mrs. Emerson,” he says, his voice low and deep. “Whatever you have to say, just say it. Yes, I might get mad. I can’t promise I won’t, but I can promise I’ll get totally pissed off if you don’t tell me.”

  I nod and raise one hand in a placating gesture. “Fine. You have a reputation, okay?”

  “A reputation?” he echoes with a frown. “You’re going to have to be more specific. A reputation for what?”

  “The agency that sent me to work for you. The woman there warned me about you before I came in for the interview.”

  He crosses his arms over his chest. His muscles tense and flex.

  Okay, now, I am gulping for air.

  “What in the hell did they warn you about? I’m not dangerous,” he says staring at me like he wants to punch something.

  My body is trembling with nerves and if I keep going, there’s no telling how he’ll react, but I have no choice as I’ve come this far. Might as well go all the way. “They didn’t say you were dangerous. They told me you won’t hire women that are even remotely attractive or unmarried.”

  He nods thoughtfully. “They’re not wrong. I didn’t know other people knew about that, though. I’ve never said anything to anyone. It’s a personal rule.”

  “I guess other people noticed. The woman told me it was because all these young girls end up falling in love with you and acting unprofessional. And they’re distracting to you. So I made sure to dress as frumpily as I could to get the job.”