The Boss's Virgin by Charlotte Lamb (i am malala young readers edition .TXT) 📗

point she fell asleep; the book slipped to the floor. She did not have nightmares; she was too tired to dream.

She woke with a start, hearing a sound, and looked up to find Randal sitting beside her, his fingers stroking her cheek.

‘Oh, hello,’ she said, startled, shifting to dislodge his hand. ‘Did Alex explain why I left? Johnny had a nightmare, but he’s asleep again now.’

‘I know. I checked just now. He’s deeply asleep. Thanks for coming up to take care of him.’

‘That’s okay.’ Under his possessive stare she was suddenly conscious of her bare legs, of her semi-transparent nightdress, the silk clinging to her warm body, her breasts visible at the low neckline. ‘Well, I’ll go to bed myself now and leave you to take care of Johnny.’ She tried to slide off the couch but Randal was in the way, his lean body blocking her escape route.

As he bent his head she wailed, ‘No, Randal!’

It was a vain protest. His mouth hit hers with a demand that left her too weak to fight the seductive sensuality of that kiss, the caressing hands roaming over her, stroking her bare throat, her shoulders, sliding down inside the nightdress to touch her breasts, wandering up over her bare legs, while all the time she quivered, drawn by the magnetic power of Randal’s body against hers.

She knew what would happen if she didn’t stop him, yet she was helpless to do a thing about his lovemaking. Every inch of her was shuddering with pleasure under his hands, his mouth; she ached to have him inside her again, to be taken to that wild peak of ecstasy.

Then they both heard a stir in the further room, a whimper from the child sleeping in there, and Randal sat up, his head turned that way, listening.

Pippa took her opportunity and wriggled out from the couch. ‘You’d better go and see if he’s okay,’ she said, and fled, trembling, before Randal could stop her.

CHAPTER TEN

NEXT morning, as they ate a very late breakfast downstairs, Renata and Alex came in to say goodbye. Alex was casual in jeans and a bright yellow sweatshirt. Renata was dressed as for some grand occasion, a film premiére, perhaps, or a fashionable cocktail party, wearing a skintight sky-blue dress with hardly any back and very little above the waist at the front. Other guests, eating egg and bacon or fresh fruit, stopped to goggle in disbelief at this vision.

Her son looked pinkly embarrassed; his mother was not dressed the way he thought mothers should dress at breakfast time.

Randal’s brows rose but he was very polite.

‘Have a safe trip, and let us know in advance next time you’re coming to see Johnny.’ He held out a hand. ‘Nice to talk to you, Alex; I must bring Johnny along to watch you play some time soon.’

‘I’d like that,’ Alex said, shaking hands.

‘Me, too,’ Johnny eagerly chimed in, and everyone smiled indulgently at the boy.

Alex shook hands with Pippa, who was dressed in a pleated brown skirt and dark green sweater, very differently from Renata. ‘I enjoyed getting to know you, Pippa. I hope we’ll meet again.’

She smiled back. ‘Nice to meet you, Alex.’

Renata looked pointedly at her watch. ‘We ought to be getting on our way. Do come along, Alex!’ She didn’t bother with courtesies; she wanted to get away as soon as possible, and made that clear.

Alex obeyed, his expression a little wry. People watched them leave, whispering—no doubt many of them recognised Alex, who was, after all, quite famous.

Renata hadn’t spoken to, let alone kissed her son, Pippa realised, wondering if the boy had been hurt. She found Renata’s indifference to the pain she might inflict baffling. What sort of woman was she? Across the table her eyes met Randal’s; he grimaced silently at her. He had noticed that Renata had ignored their son, too. There wasn’t much Randal ever missed.

He returned his attention to the fresh fruit and croissants he was eating. Johnny had decided on a full English breakfast, which he claimed he ate at school most mornings. Pippa couldn’t even look at his food; it made her feel sick. She was eating fresh figs and Greek yoghurt, then she might eat a slice of toast.

‘This morning, I thought we’d go for a walk around the hotel grounds,’ Randal suggested. ‘Unless you want to do some shopping, Pippa. There’s a large discount shopping centre a few miles away—would you like to go there?’

She shook her head. ‘I’d rather go for a walk.’

Johnny beamed at her. ‘There’s a crazy golf course here; we could have a game.’

‘Why not? I’ve never played any sort of golf, but I don’t mind trying my hand.’

‘You’ll soon learn,’ Johnny paternally assured her. ‘I’ll teach you. I’m quite good, for my age—Alex said so.’

The weather was bright but a little blustery and slightly cool. The walk was very enjoyable and the game of crazy golf had her and Johnny in fits of laughter. Randal played, too, but seemed abstracted.

Johnny won the game and Pippa bought him an ice cream back at the hotel, as a prize. He took it upstairs to the suite with him and ate it watching the inevitable cartoons on the TV in the bedroom.

Pippa and Randal retreated to the sitting room. She curled up in an armchair; he sat down on the couch close by.

‘I talked to the riding stables. They do have some boots and hats for hire,’ Randal said. ‘But no jodhpurs. They said you could wear jeans, though. You’ve got some with you, haven’t you?’

‘Yes, but I’d rather not ride, if you don’t mind. I think it would be good for you to be alone with Johnny, for one thing. For another, I’m not wild about riding horses. And I thought I’d take a siesta this afternoon. I’ve had a very tiring week, one way and another; I need a long rest.’

He nodded soberly. ‘Yes, no doubt it’s been traumatic, but at least