Read Propositioned by the Billionaire for Free Online Page B

oughtn’t to care either way; as a silent partner he was unlikely to be popping up all the time, and as her client’s brother—and therefore strictly off limits—he could date whoever and pass out wherever he chose. Not that he’d ever been on limits, of course.
    But to her intense irritation she did care. Because regardless of where Alex had physically got to last night, he was now lodged in her head and she was going slowly out of her mind.
    Her memory had become photographic where Alex was concerned. Every detail of his dark handsome face, every inch of his incredible body was as clear as if hewere standing in front of her and she just couldn’t get rid of the image, no matter how hard she tried.
    Phoebe pinched the bridge of her nose and screwed her eyes up. He had no right invading her thoughts like this. It was bad enough that he’d barged into her dreams and had proceeded to do all sorts of deliciously erotic things to her that had woken her up hot and sweating and pulsating with need.
    Sleep had whisked her back to the pergola, where he’d kissed her over and over again until she’d been panting and whimpering. Only this time, nothing had interrupted them and Alex had slid down the zip of her dress and peeled it off her and then his hands had stroked over her skin, before pulling her down with him onto the cushions and—
    Agh. Phoebe jumped to her feet, utterly disgusted with her lack of control over something so primitive, and marched into the kitchen.
    She needed a cup of coffee. So what if she’d already had five? Number six would sort her out. It had to. Otherwise she’d never last the morning.
    The phone rang just as she was pouring water into the cafetiere. Her hand jerked and boiling water splashed her skin.
    Phoebe howled in pain and frustration. This edginess was so unlike her. Whenever stress threatened to wipe her out, all she usually had to do was take a series of deep breaths and channel the serenity of her office. But today those yoga techniques, the acres of bare white walls and the ordered tranquillity of her surroundings weren’t working.
    Scowling and rubbing her hand, Phoebe inhaled deeply, closed her eyes and forced herself to pick up thephone slowly and calmly. ‘Hello?’ Good. Pleasant and polite. That didn’t sound bad.
    ‘Phoebs, I have an Alex Gilbert in Reception.’
    Phoebe dropped the phone and watched helplessly as it bounced twice and then skidded across the floor-boards. So much for inner calm.
    What was he doing here? Had her fevered imagination actually conjured him up? What did he want?
    ‘Phoebs? Are you there?’
    Oh, to be able to yell ‘no!’ and go and hide under her desk. But the opportunity to imitate her answer machine and pretend she was out had long gone. ‘Just a moment,’ she called and dashed across the floor to where her phone lay.
    Phoebe picked up the handset. Then she straightened her suit and smoothed her hair and dredged up every ounce of self-possession she had. ‘Thanks, Lizzie,’ she said serenely. ‘You’d better tell him to come up.’
    All she had to do was remain steady and in control and everything would be fine.
     
    Alex glanced around Phoebe’s office and felt like fishing out his sunglasses. Apart from the woman in the severe black trouser suit perched against the edge of the sparkling glass desk and a few certificates and pictures hanging on the walls everything was blindingly white.
    ‘Good morning, Alex.’
    She looked so composed with her poker straight hair and aloof air that for an insane moment he wanted to ruffle her up. ‘Good morning, Phoebe.’
    ‘Coffee?’
    ‘No, thank you.’
    ‘Did you have a pleasant evening?’
    ‘Delightful.’ And busy. Once he’d reluctantly given in to Jo, he’d gone back to his apartment, had formulated a plan and had wasted no time in setting the wheels in motion.
    ‘I’m so glad.’ She gave him a chilly smile and moved round to the other side of her desk. She gestured to the