Exclusive Love (British Billionaires Series) by Sorell Oates

at the knees, to balance her weight evenly to let him haul her up from the floor, her midriff crunched. Inhaling at the exertion, the button of her jeans flew off across the room. Too fast for the human eye, Oscar heard a noise as the metal hit the wooden floors.
    ‘What was that?’
    ‘What was what?’ asked Katy innocently, feeling her zipper undo to free her bloated stomach.
    ‘Thought you may have dropped something.’
    ‘Don’t think so. Could be anything in this creaky place.’
    She yanked her top as low as it could go to cover the flesh starting to expose itself.
    ‘Where’s my room then?’
    ‘You’ve got the master bedroom upstairs with the en-suite,’ replied Oscar.
    ‘Fab, I’ll see you in the morning,’ she said, taking the steps two by two as the waistband of her jeans began dropping.

 
     
    Chapter Ten
     
     
    Last night’s finale had been an unmitigated disaster. Oscar wasn’t sure why he’d insisted on staying up reading for an additional two hours after the movie ended. Giver her flighty departure, Katy hadn’t given him any reason to think she may pop by for a proper goodnight kiss. Hopeful all the same, experience had taught him how easy it was to misread a woman’s signals when you were determined the object of desire would become a bed companion.
    His growing affection for Katy extended beyond his carnal urges. Examining feelings and emotions was uncommon to him. Analyzing financial reports, numbers and figures was far easier than emotionally dissecting women. The right array of accounting reports had put him in a position where he’d be able to rescue the fledgling American branch of the family communications company.
    Accounts had to balance, mathematics had to be absolute. Last night only offered a pervading sense of absolute confusion. Pretending to watch the movie, he’d gazed fondly at Katy as she devoured her pizza letting the tomato sauce fall to her shirt, wiping the grease from her mouth with the back of her hand. When the film ended, she’d taken to the stairs with the grace and energy of a springbok.
    The new state of uneasiness put a damper on Oscar’s plans for the day. Wrestling the matter in his mind, he wondered exactly where he’d made the mistake which pushed Katy down the road to rejecting him. A stroll and fresh air would clear his head or in the very least get the blood pumping through his veins to lift his mood.
    The distance from the staff cabin to the nearest 7 Eleven was at least three miles. Oscar found himself jogging to collect the papers and essential breakfast items. Jogging back with a plastic bag containing milk, bread, butter, jam, peanut butter, cereal and newspapers proved problematic. The bag hit his shins. He switched the fraying handles between hands to even the weight. Furious for not having driven, he sulkily trekked to the cabin. His mood had worsened, until he saw Katy sitting on the steps. She flung her arms round his neck as if he’d been gone a year.
    ‘I didn’t know where you were. I searched the house for you.’
    ‘You didn’t ask which room was mine’ he reminded her.
    ‘I know. Sometimes I do stupid things. I don’t think the consequences through. I hate looking foolish. I behave brashly to deter anyone from seeing the goofy, ungracious side to me.’
    Holding out a clenched fist out to Oscar, he put his palm underneath for her to release the goods from her hand. A button dropped. He studied it, holding it up to the light.
    ‘Should this have any significant meaning for me?’ he asked tentatively.
    Had he overlooked anything major in their few encounters but lengthy discussions?
    ‘No. It popped off my jeans when you were helping me up. I didn’t want you making a snide comment about my weight or choice of food. I know I stuffed myself. I know gluttony is one of the seven deadly sins. I don’t need anyone else telling me. As soon as my belly knew it could breathe it let loose. My zipper was undoing itself. I