Prim and proper Charlotte Baxter lets her naughty side run wild when she meets a hot stranger one night. She’s riding a high—until she discovers the mystery man is also her demanding new boss! With her career her top priority, an affair with Alex Bronson is forbidden...so why is she ready to risk it all for another scorching encounter?

“DARE is Harlequin’s hottest line yet. Every book should come with a free fan. I dare you to try them!”

—Tiffany Reisz, international bestselling author

NICOLA MARSH

is a

USA TODAY

bestselling and multi-award-winning author who loves nothing better than losing herself in a story. A physiotherapist in a previous life, she now divides her time between raising two dashing heroes, whipping up delish meals, cheering on her footy team and writing—her dream job. And she chats on social media. A lot. Come say hi!

Instagram

Twitter

Facebook

—she’s there! Also find her at

nicolamarsh.com

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Discover more at

millsandboon.co.uk

Play Thing

Nicola Marsh

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07141-3

PLAY THING

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins

Publishers

1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For the strong, empowered women who embody the heroines I like to create.

Know what you want and strive to get it. Be bold. Be courageous. Be true to yourself.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

CHARLOTTE WAITED UNTIL the boss from hell hung up before slamming down the phone and sticking out her tongue. Childish, but it made her feel good.

She glared at the phone, wishing it would disintegrate so she wouldn’t have to talk to him again. Yeah, like that would help. She also had an inbox full of emails from Mr Alexander Bronson, asshole extraordinaire.

The guy was demanding, arrogant and clearly had been put on this earth to make her life a misery.

As if to emphasise the point, an email pinged into her inbox with a gut-churning subject line: One last thing.

Sighing, she opened the email. And stopped breathing.

Forgot to mention, Charlie, I’ll be arriving at the Sydney office tomorrow to follow up on my ideas to reconfigure staff. I look forward to meeting you then.

He didn’t sign off. He didn’t need to. Superior beings from other planets were above mere mortals.

Alexander Bronson, here, in the flesh, tomorrow. Torturing her. Tormenting her. Teasing her.

Charlie.

No one ever called her that. She hated it. She’d told him so. Which ensured he never called her anything else. No Miss Baxter for him. Uh-uh. The CEO of countless accountancy firms around Australia, the wunderkind who took ailing companies and turned them around, had an informality about him that won friends and influenced lowly accountants like her.

The kicker was, her boss might be demanding and expect perfection, yet she couldn’t help but admire his work ethos. She respected him for it, she identified with hard work. It was all she knew in her lacklustre life. Which made it all the more annoying that a small part of her looked forward to their daily phone calls and his infernal teasing.

Could she be any more pathetic? The highlight of her day was talking to her cocky boss who seemed to make it his life’s work to tease some kind of response out of her.

Her cell rang and she glanced at the screen, dithering about whether to take the call. She adored her Aunt Dee but she couldn’t cope with any outlandish requests today. She had to prepare for her imminent meeting with the charming Mr Bronson tomorrow.

Mentally chastising her goody-two-shoes conscience, she picked up the cell and stabbed at the answer button.

‘Hey, Aunt Dee, I’m at work so can’t talk long—’

‘Dear girl, I know you’re at work.’ Her aunt sounded breathless, like she’d jogged up a flight of stairs. Unlikely, considering Dee equated exercise with the devil’s work. ‘But I need your help and it’s urgent.’

Charlotte instantly felt guilty that she’d contemplated ignoring her aunt. Dee had raised her when her flaky parents couldn’t be bothered, preferring to travel the world in search of the next village in dire need of education. Dee rarely asked for favours so the fact she needed help meant this could be serious.

‘Sure, whatever you need. Is everything okay?’

Dee inhaled a loud breath. ‘Not really. My friend Queenie has had a nasty fall and broken her hip. She’s alone, with no one to care for her animals, so I need to drive up to Byron Bay now. But the owner of the building where I keep stock for my business is coming to inspect it later today and I need to vacate the lease space.’

Her heart sank. As if this day couldn’t get any worse. Sorting through her aunt’s questionable ‘stock’ for her kinky online business wasn’t one of her favourite activities on the planet. Aunt Dee had enlisted her help on more than one occasion to stuff envelopes for orders and Charlotte blushed just thinking about some of the apparatus people used in their sex lives.

‘You need me to pack everything up and store it at home?’

Dee sighed in relief. ‘Could you, sweetie? It would mean I could be at Queenie’s today rather than tomorrow and she really needs me.’

Charlotte’s inner child wanted to say ‘I need you’ but that was selfish and untrue. She’d learned from an early age to depend on no one but herself. She valued her independence, wore it like a badge of honour. Except that lately, her closest friends Abby and Mak had found great guys, leaving her to ponder whether being alone was something she cherished because she could or because she had to.

Shaking off her melancholy, she said, ‘Leave everything to me.’

‘You’re a lifesaver, Charlotte.’ Dee made smooching sounds. ‘Not sure how long I’ll be gone, maybe a few weeks. I’ll let you know.’

‘Okay—’ but Dee had already hung up, leaving Charlotte to face the inevitable.

An afternoon of packing up vibrators, nipple clamps and edible underwear.

Oh, goody.

CHAPTER TWO

ALEXANDER BRONSON HADN’T been back in Sydney for a year and as he traversed the Harbour Bridge he couldn’t help but glance at the Opera House on his left and remember the first time he’d been there. The first time he’d felt like he’d finally broken free of the shackles of his past.

Sydney had a unique vibe, far removed from his claustrophobic upbringing in outback New South Wales. It was the city where he’d studied, where he’d launched his career, where he’d ensured he’d never have to end up like his father.

His unofficial home, a boutique hotel in the Central Business District, beckoned. But first he had to check out his last property for the day, a warehouse on the outskirts of the glitzy eastern suburbs. He’d already been to Manly, Mosman and Balmoral Beach today, ensuring his investments were running smoothly. This last warehouse had to be cleared asap for a new tenant to move in tomorrow and his manager had informed him there’d been some kind of hold-up.

He didn’t suffer incompetence lightly. He liked order in all aspects of life. Which was why he’d sort out this complication today and face the shake-up at The Number Makers tomorrow.

Crazy name for an accountancy firm. Then again, considering the mess the initial owner had made of the business, it didn’t surprise him. Thank goodness for workers like Charlotte Baxter. Working offsite could be tough, but she’d made everything much easier than expected. He admired her work ethic, the way she questioned him and proposed solutions to problems he might not have anticipated.

He also liked the way she brought out the worst in him.

She sounded so prim and proper, so damned disapproving, he couldn’t help but tease her.

He shouldn’t make assumptions but he knew her type. Conservative wardrobe. Conservative views. Conservative life. She probably had an equally reserved husband, well-behaved kids and knitted on her lunch break. Though this was at odds with the fact that he’d registered her marital status as single when he’d dug deeper into his rising-star employee.

He’d deliberately called her Charlie during their first call and she hadn’t hesitated in reprimanding him—ensuring he never called her anything but. Because there was an underlying hint of playfulness in her sharp reprimands and retorts, as if she wanted to cut loose but didn’t know how.

Not that he was the guy to help her do it, but if he could make his work environment more pleasant, he was all for it. He’d had enough of morose, stifled environments back home to ensure he went out of his way to foster the opposite in all aspects of his life ever since.

Oh, yeah, he was looking forward to meeting the woman who’d smoothed his entry into the company. He had grand plans for her. Management plans. Because The Number Makers needed to be turned into a profitable business again and that meant appointing qualified staff. Staff like his introverted Charlie.

He couldn’t wait to meet her.

CHAPTER THREE

CHARLOTTE STEPPED INTO her aunt’s rented space in a cavernous warehouse and immediately wished she’d said no to helping out.

She wasn’t a prude, but seeing evidence of how much fun other people had in their sex lives always made her feel lacking somehow.

Her aunt’s online business, Dee’s Delights, did a roaring trade in all things sexy. From dildos to condoms, beads to fetish wear, her aunt dealt in it all. And if the lavish lifestyle her aunt enjoyed was any indication, many people were return customers.

Dee had told her about the business when Charlotte turned eighteen. Initially mortified that her aunt even knew what a cock ring was, Charlotte had studiously ignored anything to do with her aunt’s line of work. Now, at the ripe old age of twenty-five, and never having had a long-term boyfriend, Charlotte wondered if having to handle all this stuff today was the universe’s way of telling her to lighten the hell up.

Thankfully, most of the raunchier stuff still resided in boxes, leaving her to pack only the vibrators, handcuffs and lingerie. She’d booked a courier for six tonight, meaning she had three hours to get every box filled and taped.

As she held up a pair of fluffy fuchsia handcuffs and smirked, she glimpsed a full-length mirror on the inside of a partially open wardrobe door. Probably a remnant of the last tenant—she couldn’t imagine her aunt wanting to try on any of her merchandise and didn’t want to—but the moment the idea of trying stuff on popped into her head she couldn’t dislodge it.

Her gaze fell on the lingerie. A turquoise chemise with lace overlay. A purple halter baby-doll. A wet-look corset. A pink body stocking. An ebony faux-leather bustier and thong.

Heat flushed her cheeks as she picked up the latter and held it up. Would her sedate life change if she wore stuff like this? Not that anybody would see it, but it might give her more confidence to shake things up a little. And she wanted that, craved that, with every cell in her lonely body.

Her flatmate Mak had jetted off to New York with her delectable guy Hudson last week, leaving her more alone than ever. Charlotte rarely dated, didn’t go out clubbing and preferred reading to sexting. On the odd occasion she dipped her toes into the dating pool, she went for boring guys like...her. Because ultimately, that was the kind of guy she could see herself marrying, having kids with and with whom she could build the kind of life she’d never had. Secure and happy, with a house she could grow old in, surrounded by a family of her own making.

She’d found the house but wasn’t having much luck with the guy.

Before she could second-guess her crazy decision she pulled the elastic off her ponytail and ran her fingers through her hair. She took off her glasses, toed off her flat pumps, unbuttoned her white shirt and unzipped her grey pencil skirt. The warehouse air had a chill, making her skin pebble as she stripped off her sensible cotton underwear. Or maybe her goosebumps had more to do with the naughty thrill of slipping on the thong and bungling her way into the bustier with detachable lace collar.

When she’d done up the last hook, she took a deep breath and padded over to the wardrobe. Opened the door wider. Took a peek in the mirror. And gasped.

Her reflection didn’t shock her as much as the sight of a tall gorgeous guy in a suit staring at her with obvious appreciation.

‘Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?’ She spun around, covering her bits even though they weren’t really exposed.

Her handbag and cell were on the table laden with boxes, too far away to make an emergency call if she had to.

Damn, why had she been so stupid? She could’ve dressed up—or undressed in this case—in her flat where she’d be storing the boxes, not here where any pervert could wander in.

‘I could ask you the same question,’ the handsome stranger said, stepping inside the room and closing the door.

Uh-oh.

Being alone in an empty warehouse in raunchy underwear with a man, no matter how attractive, wasn’t good. She had more sense than this. She blamed her stupid impulsiveness on the realisation that her life was so empty she actually looked forward to verbally sparring with her irritating boss daily.

She’d wanted to cut loose for just one moment. To feel what other women felt wearing underwear like this. She hadn’t banked on having an audience for a foolish moment of bravado.

‘Get out,’ she yelled, sidling towards her clothes, fear making her heart pound in her ears.

‘I own this place so that’s not going to happen.’ His curious gaze fell on the table, where the vibrators and lingerie lay scattered. ‘You, on the other hand, need to tell me what you’re doing here and why my warehouse has turned into a sex shop.’

There was something vaguely familiar about his condescending tone and she hoped to God he wasn’t a client whose taxes she’d done.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, this isn’t a sex shop. My aunt rents this space, from you apparently, for her online business and she asked me to pack everything up so the new tenant can move in tomorrow.’ She gestured at the merchandise, belatedly realising she’d left herself exposed when a glimmer of interest lit his gaze. ‘So if you leave me to it, I’ll be out of here in a few hours.’

‘Well, aren’t you the little helper,’ he drawled, his gaze starting at her toes and working its way upward, a slow, leisurely perusal that made her nipples harden.

Her body’s reaction startled her. She’d never reacted to any man like this before, let alone a stranger. She read about this kind of thing in the romance novels she devoured by the boxful: the shy woman instantly attracted to the commanding man. It was a seduction game she fantasised about but knew could never happen to her. They called those novels fiction for a reason.

Yet here she was, standing in front of a guy she didn’t know, letting him look his fill. And enjoying it.

When he reached her eyes, what she saw made her knees wobble a tad. Desire. Passion. Lust. The kind of lust she’d never, ever seen in a man’s eyes when they looked at her.

‘Is trying on every outfit part of you

helping

out?’

His obvious desire discombobulated her and when he grinned the smug smile of a guy who knew exactly the effect he had on her, she made an impulsive decision to make him pay. She might be inexperienced and naive when it came to sparring with a man but that didn’t mean he could toy with her.

‘My old corsets and bustiers are worn out so I thought I’d replenish my stocks.’ A blush heated her cheeks at the blatant lie but once she started she couldn’t stop. ‘It’s a tough job looking this good for the men of Sydney but somebody’s gotta do it.’

He laughed, a rich, deep rumble that reached down into her chest and filled the lonely ache that resided there.

‘Does that include me, considering I’m a man and I’m in Sydney?’

Charlotte had never played games with any guy. She didn’t flirt and she didn’t elicit grand passion in them. But something about this stranger made her feel like she could do both.

‘Why, do you think I look good?’ She rested her hands on her hips in a blatant invitation for him to look his fill again, wondering what magic powers the lingerie held to make her this bold.

‘Honey, you have no idea.’ He stalked towards her and her newfound bravado fled. She edged towards the table, needing her cell within reach. But like an eternal klutz she stumbled and would have fallen if he hadn’t been by her side in a second. Strong hands steadied her, held her upright, made her yearn for things she had no right to crave.

Up close, he was even more startlingly good-looking: dark wavy hair, blue eyes the colour of Bondi on a clear day, chiselled jaw dusted with the faintest hint of stubble, the perfection marred by a small scar on the underside of his chin. And when he smiled again...oh, boy, she felt it all the way down to her toes and a few choice places in between.

She cleared her throat, trying to summon outrage at being held by a stranger while dressed like a stripper. ‘Let me go.’

But her command sounded soft and uncertain, falling flat if his amused smirk was any indication.

‘Do you want me to?’

He quirked an eyebrow, daring her to deny the invisible energy zapping between them.

She couldn’t explain it. She didn’t do casual sex; could count the number of times she’d actually had sex on one hand because it had been unremarkable. She didn’t believe in instant attraction or one-night stands. Or having vertical sex with a hot stranger in a warehouse.

This wasn’t her.

But what if it could be?

For a moment, she wondered where that voice had come from. Her conscience didn’t encourage her to go wild. Quite the opposite, in fact.

And where had it got her? Alone and craving a relationship.

What if she did something so out of character that she could never go back to the person she was? Would that give her the kick-start she needed to

make

the life she wanted happen instead of

waiting

for it to happen to her?

‘I don’t know you... I mean, I’m not good at this...and I don’t usually do this kind of thing with strangers—’

He kissed her. His lips were commanding, his skill obvious in the way he exacted the right amount of pressure—not too hard, not too soft...

A kiss to her meant a meshing of lips, the occasional tongue, a bit messy and nothing to rave about.

What this guy could do with his tongue...the moment it invaded her mouth and touched hers she couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do anything but hold onto his lapels and press against him, desperate for contact.

His relentless assault on her lips made her tremble with longing. He changed the pressure, he nipped her bottom lip so hard it bordered on painful, and then he soothed it with a seductive sweep of his tongue.

A fleeting thought pierced her passion haze: could a woman orgasm from a kiss? Because she throbbed so startlingly from his mouth on hers that it had to be scientifically possible.

His fingers threaded through her hair, grazing her scalp, and she moaned at the tingling sensation it elicited. He took it as a sign of encouragement, spinning her around and hoisting her onto the table. She gasped at the cold plastic against her bare butt and he broke their kiss to stare at her in wide-eyed wonder.

‘I don’t do this. Sex with a stranger.’

‘Me either,’ she said, breathless and slightly husky. Wishing he hadn’t stopped. Wishing she had the guts to articulate how badly she wanted him to continue.

His hungry gaze locked on her, daring her to follow through on what they’d started. ‘So what do you want to do?’

He’d given her an out.

She should take it.

Her entire life revolved around rational, well-considered decisions. Weighing up facts. Making safe choices.

Where had it got her?

Single and not loving it. Her sex life was lived vicariously through erotic romance novels, craving an elusive something that would jolt her staid life; something like this crazy, exciting interlude to give her confidence a boost and ensure she could follow through on finding her perfect guy.

Staring into this guy’s amazing blue eyes, she wondered if maybe karma had delivered exactly what she needed.

Her throat tightened but she had to get the words out, had to take a chance for once. ‘I want to do this.’

Before her common sense kicked in, she placed her hand on his abs. Low enough to be suggestive. High enough he could end this now and walk away if he wanted to.

His low groan raised the fine hairs on her arms as he nudged her knees apart, stepped between them and slid his hands under her butt, sliding her towards him.

She gasped as he ground against her, hard and insistent, while his hands palmed her breasts. The softest whimper filled the air and through a hazy fog of want, she realised it had come from her.

She wrapped her legs around him and he responded by rolling her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, making her go a little crazy. She writhed against him, wanting more. He plucked at her nipples, sending a sizzle to her core.

If his touch felt so good with the stupid faux leather as a barrier, what would it feel like to be naked? She wanted to find out but he had other ideas.

‘Lie back,’ he said, placing a palm between her breasts and gently pushing. ‘Prop on your elbows so I can see you.’

The guys Charlotte had been with didn’t issue orders. They got the basics done without a word.

She liked being told what to do. Liked the gleam in his eyes when she did exactly as he wanted. She eased back until she rested on her elbows, uncertainty making her shiver as he hooked his thumbs under the elastic of the thong. He tugged gently, lowering it, leaving her naked and vulnerable.

She’d never felt so exposed. But her protest died on her lips as he locked gazes with her at the same time he slid a finger inside her.

Reverence widened his eyes, as if she’d bestowed a great gift on him, and her flutters of worry faded beneath his ministrations.

Another finger slipped inside her, rhythmically sliding in and out as his thumb circled her clitoris. Slow. Steady. He was driving her insane with the feel of him and the way he met her gaze. Uncompromising. Confident in his ability to satisfy her. Seeing her, really

seeing

her.

‘You are so frigging beautiful,’ he muttered, his tone barely above a growl, and she gritted her teeth to stop from groaning out loud as the pleasure built. She tensed her muscles and began spiralling out of control. She blanked her mind until all she could focus on was him. His touch. His fingers. His stare.

Her orgasm crashed over her, so strong, so unexpected, wiping her out. She couldn’t hold back, her yell loud and triumphant.

She expected to be swamped with mortification the second her body stopped pulsating. But nothing happened, other than a relentless yearning to do it all again.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured, sounding o

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