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THE GARDENER's ICE MAIDEN (excerpt) Stella Eromonsere-Ajanaku

posted 17 Jun 2012, 16:02 by Flirty & Feisty Romance   [ updated 13 Jun 2013, 14:18 ]

  
‘You’re back from work? To what do I owe this spring visit?’ Oliver teased his boss with a quirky grin lurking around his widening lips.

   Spotting a classic, brown, polo shirt and blue denim trousers, he looked rascally. The three buttons of his shirt were treacherously undone… There was a coat of dark hair running around the edge of his polo top.

   Rather too late, Olivia saw the folly of her rash decision to have a go at her gardener on his field.

   She went downstairs to let her son out. Standing in front of Oliver’s entrance door, she watched her son walk through the paved stones to the main house, before locking Oliver’s door. When she stepped back, she hit the rocky frame that was Oliver’s body, and she let out a yell.

   From behind, he placed his right palm over her mouth, and his left hand around her waist. ‘What did you want to talk to me about?’ he asked whispering into her ear.    

With his breath fanning her neck…his hand holding her waist firmly…and his strong scent rocking her senses…leaving her panting…and wanting, she made a weak plea. ‘Can you release your hold on me, please?’ 

This man belonged in the jungle. She’d not heard his footsteps behind her at all. He was a big fellow with panther like strides.  

   He scared her…

   And, Olivia Gleave didn't scare easily.

   Leaving her as suddenly as he’d launched his attack, he walked back to his front room.

  Oliver could see the colour of her eyes flickering from shades of blue to hues of grey in rapid succession. ‘You might not like what I told you, but it’s the truth. You don’t have to accept it. Just because you pay my salary, don’t expect to pocket my lips. I’m no subservient employee. When you get a moment during your extensively busy schedule, spend a few minutes thinking about all I told you.’

   She turned ruby red. Her anger hit the dark sky above. ‘You, Oliver, my paid gardener? You have the nerve to insult me in my home? You’ve got the audacity to call me a rather useless mother to my son? You, a mere gardener?’

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