“I should probably go,” she said once we reached the street.

I wasn’t convinced. It sounded as though leaving was the last thing she wanted to do.

“But you don’t want to. Let’s walk. There’s a quieter bar down the road here.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off her mouth. Even as she watched me now, weighing up her options, running through some sort of checklist that would help her decide whether I’d fuck her over, or whether I was safe, that serious mouth tipped up at the corners. It was a mouth shaped by an angel into a constant smile.

The angle of light from the sunset highlighted chestnut flecks in her brown eyes, a spray of freckles, and the coppery tone of her hair. Right then I knew I wanted her, certain that everything I discovered about Darcy from this moment forward would only make me want her more.

I took her elbow and focused on the rectangle of the ocean at the end of the road. I aimed for the horizon because if I looked at her again I’d have her up against the window of the nearest shop, tearing at her clothes. The arousal shot she’d given me would pass but not until it flooded my veins with heat, and filled my head with need.

And made me want her again.

The bar I led her to was down on the waterfront. Small, definitely smarter than the pub we’d just left, but equally busy. I nodded at the striking brunette—Lisette?—working the bar and kept walking through, past the restrooms, along a narrow hallway, pushing open a door to a small, empty courtyard.

“Huh, it’s so busy out in front, yet we have this area to ourselves.”

“Owner privileges,” I said. “Take a seat, I’ll be back in a minute.”

I ducked behind the bar, crouching at the bank of fridges, humming in time to the thrum that vibrated through my body. I chose a wine that would make up for the crap they’d served Darcy in the sports bar, and grabbed a couple of glasses. I called out an order to the kitchen as I passed. They would have been prepping the cold plates for the past hour, ready for the early-evening customers.

“Three minutes, boss.”

“Bring it to the courtyard.”

My movements were urgent, as if any delay and Darcy would vanish.

She hadn’t, of course. She sat waiting at the table, staring into the distance.

When she heard me approach, she turned, laser beam smile on full wattage. I opened the bottle, poured, and sat opposite just as the food arrived.

Darcy eyed it as the waiter set out plates, utensils and napkins. She chose an olive, and nibbled.

“You’re insulting the kitchen,” I said. “Stop being so polite. Eat, I can see you’re hungry.”

She paused for half a second then stabbed a tuatua fritter with her fork. “I forgot to eat lunch. Thank you, this is great.”

“Do you know Waitapu well?” I asked. She was hungry, and it was refreshing to share a meal with a woman who actually ate instead of playing with her food.

She swallowed. “Not at all. Never set foot in the place until last week.” She wiped her mouth, sipped her wine. “I have this friend, Jen Wilmott. She lives in London right now. Her Gran died and left her an old cottage up by the river—”

“Sara. Jen’s Gran was Sara, I’ve known her all my life.”

“Right. Small world.”

“Not really, just a small town.”

She laughed. “Jen suggested I use the cottage for summer and I decided to take her up on the offer.”

“So you’re going to be a beach bum for summer?”

“That’s what I’m doing in my dreams. In reality, I’m looking for work, hence hanging around in a dodgy sports bar on a Wednesday.”

“You did look out of place. What’s your experience?” With my partners I owned four bars along the waterfront, a couple of restaurants, and an exclusive Lodge just out of town. There would be work for her at one of them.

“Marketing, advertising, PR, that sort of stuff. But I’ll do anything.”

“I might be able to help you,” I said carefully, because this was just a little too coincidental. We had a project going. It was short-term, but it needed somebody who understood marketing and PR to run it.

“Are you serious?”

“I’m serious, but I’m selfish, Darcy.” All of my companies had a no-fraternization rule. If she worked for me, I couldn’t touch her. I picked up a piece of smoked fish, dipped it into the green-tinged wasabi mayo and held it toward her. “Taste this.”

She held out her hand to take the food, and I shook my head. “Open your mouth.”

She did, just a little.

I leaned forward. “Show me you mean it, Darcy. Relax your jaw and let your mouth fall open.” My dick jumped when she complied. “Tongue out.”

What the fuck was I doing? She needed a job, I needed her skills, but right now all I could think about was giving her a couple of orders that were nothing more than a mirror to what I really wanted. Darcy on her knees.

She closed her eyes, and looked as if she was waiting for communion, or my cock. I placed the fish carefully on her tongue and as if she understood, she stayed just like that.

Fuck.

“Very nice. Eat, and next time, don’t close your eyes.”

Her gaze challenged me as she chewed and swallowed.

I tipped some wine into my mouth. “Now, back to this work thing. There’s a contract that might suit you. And yes, I’m serious.”

As if shifting into work mode, Darcy pushed her wine to one side, leaning forward on her forearms. “Thanks, I really appreciate that—”

“Don’t you want to know what the job is?”

“I’m all ears.”

“It’s a three-month contract coordinating a gala fundraising dinner and auction that I host with my business partners. We run this event every year. It started small, but it’s grown. Last year it was a massive success, which is great, but it means this year will be so much bigger. We need someone to handle it.”

“I’m interested. Do you want to interview me now?”

“No, I don’t want to interview you now. I’d rather keep things social. We can talk about the contract tomorrow, in my office.”

“Tomorrow, your office. Okay.”

“There’s one small issue. I don’t mess with my staff, Darcy, and I really want to mess with you.” I’m not that arrogant asshole. Not entirely, but if she decided to take the job, I wanted her to have all the facts.

I wanted to fuck her. Fact.

Darcy laughed. “You mentioned a contract, so, technically I wouldn’t be working for you. I would be like, say, the gardener who tended your plants once a week.”

“I like the way your mind works.”

She smiled. “There’s a lot to me, Oliver Sackville, and I have to be honest with you. I need a job. Any job. But I’d prefer a job where I can use the talent and skills I have. Running your gala sounds an awful lot more fun than wiping tables.”

“It’ll be hard work.”

“That doesn’t scare me.”

“Good, because we’re behind. The last person we hired started, then resigned a month later having achieved nothing. We can’t push the date out so it’s going to be chaotic. What we can do is support you.”

She chewed another piece of fish and swallowed. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“You’re going to need it. Starting from scratch you’ll have to find entertainment, organize branding, ticketing, advertising.”

“That’s quite a challenge.”

Her gaze was direct and she seemed undaunted.

“Tell me about your experience?”

“I have a degree in marketing and advertising. I started out of university in Auckland at Carlton Advertising and worked my way up to account manager in ten months. The budgets were hefty. After two years I spread my wings and headed to Sydney. I was at Prism the entire time and latterly, moved into their PR department. Specialty, sports teams. You’ll appreciate it was a 24/7 role. Monday’s were particularly busy.” She laughed.

“Putting out fires from weekend exploits.”

“Constantly. Big egos and bad decisions. Those guys are crazy.”

“You’ve impressed me, Darcy.” I’m not sure my partners would be thrilled that I was offering the position to a woman who’d caught my attention in a dimly lit sports bar, but I had to run with the gut feeling I had that Darcy was capable.

Luther, in particular, would suggest it was a feeling in my dick that made me dispense with caution. I knew I should be asking for more details.

“Have you got a CV?”

“Sure, I’ll bring that with me tomorrow.”

“HR will want to check references, obviously.”

“No problem.”

For the first time, she looked uneasy, but she recovered well. Maybe I’d been hanging around too much with Luther, who made it his job to be suspicious. Or maybe I really was thinking with my dick.