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about me. I can take care of myself.”
    As was typical of her temper, now that she’d had her say her anger had drained away, leaving her rather mortified about what she’d just said to her brand new employer. Holt had atfirst opened his mouth to speak and then snapped it shut as she’d gone on. Now his eyes were narrowed as if he was trying to decide if she was completely serious. So far no one she had met this week had dared to speak to Holt in that impertinent manner.
    Well, crap. She didn’t want to lose this job.
    “Mr. Winslow, I’m so–”
    “Don’t ruin it now,” Holt cut off her apology. To her ever-loving shockher usually taciturn boss was actually laughing. “You get all fiery when you’re mad. You’ll need that spirit working for me. And I certainly wasn’t intimating that you’re not good enough for Beck. If anything, he’s not good enough for you.”
    With that Holt turned and exited the kitchen, leaving Myra standing rooted to the spot and dumbfounded. Every moment that she spent with Holt made her moreintrigued by the man. And as a single working mother Myra could afford precious few things, especially not an interest in her handsome wealthy boss.

Chapter Five
    ‡
    H olt rubbed his stiff neck and slapped the lid down on his laptop. Every evening for the last two weeks he’d buried himself in work as much as possible. Concentrating on clients and cases was supposed to keep him from thinking about his more than attractive assistantbut so far it hadn’t worked very well.
    He liked Myra’s smile when she greeted him every morning. He liked the way she smelled – not flowery but clean and fresh like after a rain shower. He even liked the way her tongue peeked out of the corner of her mouth when she was concentrating.
    “You need something to do,” he muttered to himself as he closed the office door behind him and ascended the stairsto his room two at a time. What he really needed was to break a sweat. He’d had a deposition early this morning and hadn’t been able to work out as he normally did and that always played havoc with his mood. Exercise not only kept his body in shape but it also kept him sane. In his bedroom he quickly shed his work clothes, threw on a pair of shorts, t-shirt, and tennis shoes, and headed downto the exercise room.
    An hour later and dripping with sweat, his left leg ached from the exertion. When he’d woken up in the hospital the doctors had given him the bad news that he would walk with a limp the rest of his life. That news had been the least of his worries as he underwent several surgeries and skin grafts.
    Holt couldn’t fix his scars but he could fine tune his body. As soon as thedoctors had let him he’d been in the gym pushing himself. As hard as he could and then some. No one seeing him walk or run now would ever know the trauma his bones and muscles had been through.
    At least if they didn’t see his scars.
    He rubbed his thigh and headed out the back of the house and straight for the hot tub. He’d soak for awhile and let the jets ease the soreness that he’d grown accustomedto. It was a constant reminder of just how damn lucky he was to be alive.
    The yard was shrouded in shadows, the only light from the moon up above, so it was a surprise when he realized that he wasn’t alone.
    Myra was chest deep in the steaming and swirling water.
    Her copper-colored hair was piled high on top of her head but a few tendrils had escaped and clung to her damp neck and curled aroundher heart shaped face. She hadn’t yet seen him, and although it smacked of creepy stalking he stood there and watched as she let her head fall back and her lips part in a sweet sigh.
    Mesmerized, his gaze wandered over the creamy skin of her shoulders and down to her full breasts that were pushed up by the swimsuit top. The water bubbled as her arms glided back and forth over the surface in asoft slow rhythm that only she could hear.
    The only sound was the tinkling of leaves or