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his lips assaulting her breasts, his hands pinning hers over her head before he finally plunged his towering erection into her quivering… No! she admonished herself, and gave herself a mental shake. This was Stuart, not Geoffrey. Stuart, who despised her. She couldn’t possibly be entertaining these fantasies about him.
    “From now you’ll be working directly for me,” he announced, lifting a sardonic eyebrow.
    “But I already work for you,” she countered, not comprehending.
    “I’m appointing you my personal assistant for the time being.”
    “But… Jenny…”
    He shook his head, the frown creasing his brow deepening into a violent groove. “Jenny is taking a leave of absence. Her mother is not well and she wants to stay home to take care of her for a while.”
    “But I can’t be your PA,” she pointed out helplessly, a wave of emotion engulfing her. Being Stuart’s PA would mean working closely together with him—being at his beck and call—answering his every need… It was the worst thing that could happen! So why was she suddenly feeling weak at the knees at the thought of working side by side with her cousin? Because this was a huge career opportunity, she knew. This was Stuart grooming her for management.
    “If it’s your studies you’re worried about—”
    “No, it’s not that,” she was quick to respond. She was in her final year, and only sporadically had to go in to attend classes.
    “What is it, then?” he demanded gruffly, abruptly rising to his feet and rounding the desk. “If this is about Geoffrey again…”
    As he came face to face with her, she cried, “No, it’s not!”
    He studied her for a moment, then his lips twisted into an expression of contempt. “He’s getting married next month, you know.”
    Startled, she responded, “Next month? But I thought—”
    “You thought the engagement would be a long affair,” he growled. “You thought you would have time to create a rift between Geoffrey and Giselle.”
    “No!”
    “Yes! Admit it,” he grunted, taking hold of her shoulders and giving her a vigorous shake. “Get a grip, Kirsty, and face facts. Geoffrey doesn’t love you.”
    She shook her head, in the grip of a powerful surge of emotion. Her sex clenched violently as she caught a whiff of his male scent, and felt an almost uncontrollable urge to reach out and curl her fingers into his chest.
    “I’m going to keep you close to me so I can keep an eye on you,” he announced viciously. “Prevent you from making a spectacle of yourself,” he growled as he drew her near, his breath warm on her skin, his powerful fingers digging into her upper arms. Her breasts were so tight now, her nipples swollen, that they painfully abraded against her cotton and lace bra. She was aware of the fact that he was so close now she could feel the heat of his skin radiating erotically against her own, and wrestled to escape the confines of his arms before she succumbed to the irrational need wrecking her defenses—the insane urge to feel his lips on her, his touch, his body pressing into her, skin on skin.
    The urge to kiss Kirsty was now so powerful that he had to use every last ounce of willpower not to succumb to this outrageous desire battling for control. The moment she walked into the office he’d seen the way the darkly rosy peaks of her breasts were clearly outlined beneath her blouse, puckering against the darker shade of her areolae. What the hell was she thinking, strutting about the office dressed like that? Was this part of her ploy to win Geoffrey’s affections? Would she walk into his office like this, hoping to make him lust after her?
    Her hair was like a shower of lustrous russet around her luminous face, and her chin was tilted in that expression of mutiny he knew so well. Even as a child she’d had a mutinous streak and always wanted to have things her own way. Well, he would make damn sure she didn’t this time. She wanted Geoffrey and she would never