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Her Not-So-Secret Diary

By:Anne Oliver

Her Not-So-Secret Diary
Anne Oliver


OH … THE things the man could do …  He was the most creative lover she'd  ever had. She'd enjoyed a few but this one was the flame on her Flaming  Sambuca. Slithering lower, Sophie Buchanan licked the lingering flavour  of blackberries and cream from her lips. As sweet as it was, she was  done with dessert.

The silk sheets slid cool and smooth against her skin, the perfect foil  for his hard, hot weight as she arched her body beneath him. Wanting  more. Wanting everything. And she told him what that was. Every glorious  detail.

Then she sighed as he set about fulfilling those requests, starting at her ear lobe and working his way down.

His mouth was warm, wet and wicked, suckling at her neck, laving her  collarbone and sending goose bumps from the roots of her hair right down  to the tips of her toes and every throbbing place in between. His  thumbs, lightly calloused, chafed her sensitised flesh as he tweaked her  nipples until … oh … bliss … she was in heaven.

'There's more,' his gravel and whisky voice promised.

She hummed her approval, absorbing the scent and texture of his skin  against hers while his hands continued their erotic journey.

Wanting to absorb the feel of his flesh through her fingertips, she slid  her fingers slowly down his spine, touching every vertebra in turn,  pressing her thumbs into the hard muscle on either side. She was  rewarded with a harsh groan that tickled her ear and told her he was  enjoying it as much as she.

Then he touched her some more. Everywhere. Everywhere at once. His  fingers sought, found and satisfied all her secret places. Ripples of  pleasure flowed through her veins like liquid gold-his expertise knew no  bounds and it seemed his only desire was to bring her pleasure.

And he did, in every way. Jared …  The name rippled through her mind like silken ribbons in a tropical breeze.

He smiled, traced her mouth with a finger then with his tongue, and she  smiled too, before indulging in the most sumptuous of kisses. He tasted  rich and dark, like the blackberries and cream they'd shared, and  ever-so-slightly dangerous, which was okay, since she knew she was  perfectly safe with him.

Yes …  Perfection.

He kneed her thighs apart then slid inside her with agonisingly  exquisite slowness. It was as if the world forgot to turn. As if it were  coming to a stop. And perhaps it was. Perhaps it had ceased to exist,  because it seemed it was only the two of them in a sparkling cocoon of  everlasting velvet night.

And then …

She heard a moan, as if her voice came from somewhere else, and her eyes  slid open, the darkness alive and glowing with wonder, the tidal wave  of her climax still crashing around her. She lay a moment listening to  the sound of her elevated breathing while her body slowly floated back  to earth.

And reality.

She touched her still tingling lips, realised she was still smiling. And why wouldn't she be? Oh … my … goodness.

As her eyes adjusted to night's soft glow through her living-room  window, she saw the Gold Coast's languid summer's evening had sprinkled  the indigo sky with silver dust.

A dream. And the best sex she'd never had.

Yet even though his image remained tantalisingly vague, she could still  taste him on her tongue. Which was as fanciful as it was true, she knew,  but that didn't make it any less sumptuous. As dream lovers went he was  a five-star keeper. Which, all things considered, was a shame because  why weren't there any men out there in the real world to compare?

She shook her head against the cushion. It didn't matter if there were a  zillion comparable men beating a path to her door, she wasn't  interested. She didn't need-or want-a real man in her life ever again.  Not after Glen. He'd destroyed what they had and left her feeling less  than a woman. Her dream lovers suited her just fine. Dream lovers were  all about you and your wants and they didn't let you down.

Best of all, they were safe.

Her laptop lay on the coffee table, its tiny power light winking in the  dimness. Rousing herself, she switched on the reading lamp. Every  luscious detail, before the glory fades.

Even though she no longer attended counselling sessions, the dream  journal she still kept was on her night-stand, so she dragged the  computer onto her lap, created a dream folder, flexed her fingers …

His name was Jared, and this dream hottie could scorch her sheets any  time he wanted …  The words flowed onto the screen, tantalising her all  over again. She reread the document, flushing hot as she did so. Whew,  it was like reading one of those steamy romance novels. What would her  counsellor have made of it?

Then her fingers stalled above the keyboard. Jared? Her heart thumped  once and a jolt of heat arrowed through her body. She didn't know anyone  by that name …  Unless she counted Jared Sanderson-and it couldn't be  him. How could you have the hots for a guy you'd never met, let alone  seen up close? Pam's boss. And since her friend was off work sick and  Sophie was temping for her, that made him her boss for the next day or  so.                       


A shivery sensation shot through her body, making the tiny hairs on the  back of her neck and down her arms stand up. A glimpse of dark cropped  hair and a snowy white shirt stretched tight over impossibly broad  shoulders when she'd arrived at the office of J Sanderson Property  Investments and Refurbishments this morning …

She shook the image away. Big boss Jared had been too busy or simply too  rude to bother introducing himself to his lowly temporary PA before  heading out for the rest of the day. It wasn't him, she told herself  firmly. The name had stuck in her mind, that was all. Not to mention  that stunning physique …  And tall and dark had always been her thing …

No. If he had hit her sweet spot on some subconscious level and it had  manifested in her dreams, it didn't matter since he'd never know.

So it wasn't a problem. Not a problem at all. Nor was she going to allow  this particular dream lover to erode the competent professional image  she'd worked so hard for. She'd come to Surfers to bury past hurts, to  begin a new life.

Professional. It reminded her that she'd not yet emailed the file Pam  had asked her to edit before forwarding to the office. Switching to  email, she entered the address Pam had supplied and began a brief  accompanying note. Dear Jared …

She paused. Typing those words redefined the image and rekindled the  smouldering heat in her lower body to life again. She fanned a hand in  front of her face, a smile tugging at her mouth despite herself. Where  the heck was that professionalism?

She deleted the words, then shook her fingers in front of her for a few  seconds, pursed her lips and began again. Mr Sanderson …  Much better.  Please find the Lygon and Partners report attached for your approval.  Regards, Sophie Buchanan for Pam Albright.

She attached Pam's revised document, pressed Send, then closed her  computer and the lamp and headed to her bedroom through the shadows. She  settled back against the pillows with a sigh. Maybe she'd get lucky  some more.

She'd barely closed her eyes when something sharp and hot and possibly  terminal lodged dead centre in her chest, and they snapped wide open  again. She couldn't have …  She Could Not.

Jackknifing up, she stumbled back to the living room and her laptop and  stabbed the On button. Her fingers twitched with impatience while the  little computer took its sweet time powering up. For heaven's sake,  could it load any slower?

When her email screen appeared she scrolled to her Sent Items folder  and … her breath stopped. Her heart stopped. Everything stopped. Oh. My.  God.

Her dream file was this very minute awaiting Jared Sanderson's approval.

Her heart restarted and hysterical laughter bubbled up her throat as she  quickly attached the correct document and resent. Did the man have a  sense of humour? According to Pam, no, he didn't, and her mouth twisted  as she blew out a breath.

Even if he did see the humour in the situation, what she'd written was  so shockingly … well, shocking. The worst, the very worst of it, was his  name was in there. Only his first name, but that was more than enough …   She was never ever going to put her sexy dreams in writing again.

The swipe card they'd given her didn't operate the building's front door  so there was no point going to the office now to try and delete it.  Which meant she'd have to wait till someone opened up in the morning to  get into the office. Seven o'clock at the earliest.

With a groan, she let her head fall back and gazed at the ceiling. But  she didn't see it. All she saw was the look on the man's face when he  opened her email.

She was so dead.

He was an uncle. Jared strolled into his living room just after 10:00  p.m. with two glasses and a bottle of the best Aussie Chardonnay. A  niece. Arabella Fleur. Cute as a cupcake, with a mop of dark hair, big  eyes and a rosebud mouth. Fingers and toes all accounted for. The grin  he'd been wearing since Crystal had delivered her firstborn this  afternoon seemed to be permanently carved into his cheeks.