on the weekends.”
“Way to change the topic, Khloe.”
“You liked that, did you?” I blow on my fisted knuckles and wipe them on my shoulder. “I am a woman of many talents.”
“Your weekends are yours. Monday to Friday, you’re mine.”
You’re mine.
My pulse leaps when I catch what looks like lust in his eyes, but it disappears so quickly I’m sure I must be hallucinating. Yeah, this warm weather is simply messing with my brain...and my libido. I need to get a leash on that right away. Because I am so not Will’s type. Not that I want to be. I don’t.
Tell that to your aching nipples.
He clears his throat, and the corners of his mouth tighten. “Your duties are written out for you in my rule book,” he says.
Come again?
“You have a rule book?”
“You don’t?
“Well no, that’s kind of...” I want to say insane, but he doesn’t look like a man who would appreciate bluntness from a subordinate, and I can’t forget what Steph said. He goes through assistants in the blink of an eye. “Different,” I say.
“I’m a man who lives by certain rules.” His tongue slips from his mouth and brushes over the groove in his top lip, sending a shiver through me. “It’s best for all of us this way.”
As I study the streak of moisture on his lip, a blast of heat warms my blood, and I’m pretty damn sure it has nothing to do with our tropical location. I tamp it down and try for normal when I say, “Whatever you say, sir.”
Will goes still for a second. What? Does he not like being called sir? Damned if it doesn’t make me want to do it more.
He smooths his hand down his chest. “I think you should take the rest of today to rest, and make sure you’re germ-free before you touch any food. My workload is light today, so I can pick up the slack.”
“Sure thing. Maybe I’ll go for a swim in that gorgeous pool or lounge on the beach.”
“Whatever you like. You packed a suit?” he asks, like he’s worried he’s going to see me naked after all.
Yeah, I get it. No one wants to find a beached beluga on their private piece of paradise. My God, my ex was a jerk. If a man can’t appreciate a woman with curves, then he can go to hell. Although I’m beginning to believe no man in Manhattan does. At least my battery-operated friend doesn’t judge when I get naked.
“Khloe?”
“Yeah?”
“You disappeared there for a second.”
“Right, I do have a bathing suit. Is wearing one in your rule book?”
That brings a half grin to his face. “Of course.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. He goes back to his food, and I do the same, eating slowly when I really just want to scarf it down and put some much-needed distance between myself and my new boss.
He finishes and stretches his arms over his head. I try not to stare, or admire the way his muscles flex and bulge, but I do it anyway.
“Are you up for a tour of the place?” he asks when I set my fork down.
“I’d love a tour, sir.” I note the tension on his face as I push away my plate and stand. We make our way into the kitchen. “How long have you owned this house?”
“A few years now. I bought it after... Let’s just say, it’s a secluded location that no one knows about, and the locals respect my privacy.”
“So the locals know who you are, then?”
“Yes,” he says. I wonder how they feel about a famous millionaire living among them, especially when there are some very poor areas, not to mention the damage done from the hurricane a few years back.
“You get along with them?”
“We get along just fine.” He waves his hand. “This is the kitchen, obviously. You decide what meals you want to cook. I like breakfast at seven sharp, lunch at noon, and dinner at seven. You don’t have to use local culture recipes if you don’t want to, although one of my assistants left a cookbook if you’re so inclined. My likes and dislikes are in the rule book.”
“I bet they are,” I murmur.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing. Want to show me the rest of the place?”
We leave the kitchen and move through the mansion. He shows me the airy living room, a dining room that could comfortably seat eighteen, his large den with a massive desk and not much else, all the bathrooms, and