Here’s my second excerpt from Bittersweet Rescue:

This can’t be happening to me.

Ellie clutched her handbag to her chest as the helicopter rose into the air. She’d never been in a helicopter before, and it was slightly petrifying to see the ground drop beneath her so quickly. But the real cause for her stomach churning was the man next to her.

Drake sat just a few inches away, but he might as well be the man on the moon. On the commercial flight from Sydney to Launceston he’d barely spoken to her. Now he’d donned wraparound shades which shielded his eyes, and the rest of his face was an inscrutable mask as he stared at the scenery below them.

The chartered helicopter was whisking them out to Tiger Hollow somewhere in the wilds of the Tasmanian west coast. She’d never been there, didn’t know what to expect. A few times a year Drake would disappear there, and she’d have no way of contacting him except via his satellite phone, which was strictly for emergencies only. Tiger Hollow was Drake’s private hideaway, his retreat from the rest of the world. The secret lair of a very lone wolf.

And now she was going there. With him. To have sex.

Her mouth was suddenly drier than the Simpson Desert, and a wave of panic weakened her legs.

Two weeks alone with Drake. Alone with a man who could dissolve her into liquid heat with just one look. A man who only wanted her for two weeks, period. How on earth could she have said yes to his proposition?

Two days ago, after his friend Ethan had left, Drake had sat her down at his desk, putting the slab of wood between them as if to emphasise that what they were about to discuss was formal business. And there, in a very impassive, businesslike manner, he’d outlined his outrageous proposal.

They were both itching for each other, and he foresaw it would cause problems between them if they tried to ignore it. So, he proposed they scratch that itch to their hearts’ content. For two weeks only. After that they would return to their boss/employee roles and continue as normal. They would never mention their two weeks or try to repeat it. It was a one-time offer.

Drake had talked about their “itch’ like it was some annoying medical condition that just needed a bit of attention to fix it. He hadn’t talked about feelings or emotions at all. This was a purely physical predicament, and the remedy was equally pragmatic.

Two weeks of earthy, sweaty sex with Drake.

How could she turn that down?

The old Ellie would have blushed and run a mile. The new Ellie had blushed just as furiously, but she hadn’t run. She’d held her head high and said yes, without a moment’s hesitation. It was almost embarrassing how quickly she’d agreed. A gleam had appeared in Drake’s eyes then, the familiar gleam he always got when he clinched a deal.

But now her bravado had leaked away, and she was a mass of nerves which boiled up whenever she glanced at the man sitting beside her. Drake oozed raw sexual appeal from every pore. Dressed in scruffy denim jeans, Tartan flannel shirt, sheepskin jacket and boots, he looked rough and hunky and unpredictable. Freed from his business suits and the trappings of success and civilisation, he was an unknown quantity. Out here in the wilderness he could do whatever he wanted with her. Would she be able to keep up with him, or would she turn out to be a big disappointment?

She knew the kind of women Drake usually went for””sophisticated, experienced, stunning women. After them, wouldn’t he find her a little…lacking?

A large hand descended on hers and halted her twisting of her handbag. Drake leaned over towards her.

“You’ve been torturing that damn handbag ever since Sydney,” he muttered in her ear, his voice just audible above the din of the helicopter.

Her heart jumped in her chest. “I-I didn’t think you’d noticed.” To make herself heard she had to push her face right into his personal space. The smell of his shampoo tantalised her nose. The soft lobe of his ear lured her.

“What are you so nervous about?”

Oh, nothing. Nothing at all, except sleeping with my sex-god boss in the middle of nowhere for fourteen nights straight.

She couldn’t tell him that she felt mousy and unremarkable and inadequate. No, that would be the worst start to their two weeks together. She had to show him she was as bold and confident as the day she’d kissed him awake and told him she wanted to share a bed with him. If she could do that, maybe she’d convince herself too.

She patted the handbag in her lap. “Just hoping I packed enough condoms to last us.”

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