She prides herself on being the perfect assistant but the millionaire daddy project wasn’t on her to-do list.

With one shocking announcement, successful restaurateur Dane Bergman has gone from millionaire playboy to daddy. Now the sole guardian of an adorable and willful four-year-old child, he’s counting on his executive assistant to save his ass. Even if it means bringing her along on a month-long ocean-side retreat.

Whatever her boss wants or needs, Pamela Atwater’s there – pretending to ignore his golden charm and drop-dead gorgeousness. With his daughter, however, Pamela sees a new side to her powerful boss. Private. Vulnerable. A man who tempts her to cross the line from professional… to personal. 

But is one month long enough to convince Dane that his perfect assistant might just be his perfect match?

She could barely breathe. Was this really happening? Or was it a dream?

But the solidness of Dane, the weight of him behind her in the bed told her it was very, vividly real.

“I should check on Dani,” she said, wanting more than anything else in the universe to stay exactly where she was.

“Listen,” he said. “She’s fine. The door’s closed.”

From the kitchen, she could hear Dani’s voice singing along with her beloved characters. Laughing, even.

Beneath the covers, he slid a hand up, then down her body.

“Do you want to go,” he whispered against her neck, his breath sending rivulets of desire quivering over her skin, “or do you want to stay?”

When she’d gone to bed, she’d had a robe on and a child in her arms. Now, she could feel her robe bunched up somewhere by her knees, the child was making happy noises in the other room and big hot hands were touching her in places that desperately wanted to be touched.

Even her dreams weren’t this good.

Her body was moving in time with his hand and she was breathing way too quickly.

She should stop him; she knew she should.

She reached back.

He groaned. “So you’ve decided then?”

He throbbed in her hand and she rubbed her thumb over the slick tip.

His finger dipped inside her again and she gasped.

“Decided what?”

He reached to the bedside table and she heard the crinkling sound of a condom wrapper. She arched her back and pressed against him, angling herself until she felt him pulsating at the back of her thighs so close, but not close enough.

“Decided,” he said in a ragged voice, “if we’re having sex or not.”

She pushed herself onto him and he was inside her, filling her, trembling against her as if holding himself back.

But she spread her legs wider to accommodate him and his clever, clever hand that hadn’t stopped working her, not for a second.

Maybe she wasn’t awake after all, she thought, as the waves rose, and her legs bucked against the sheets.

“Can I,” she gasped, grabbing his hip and pulling him into her, harder, faster, “get back to you?”

She cried out as her climax began and she flailed for a pillow to put over her face. This was too good to be silent, this was a screamer, a shout-it-from-the-rooftops, barn-burner kind of orgasm, and just when she thought it couldn’t get better, Dane’s hands moved to her hips, grasping her, pulling her back and forth, extending her pleasure with his crescendo.

Finally they fell back on the sheets, both breathing hard, both trembling.

The room came back into focus. Pamela elbowed herself around to look at Dane for the first time

“I guess,” she said, meeting his eyes and seeing in them the same shock she felt herself, “that would be a yes.”