Temporary Boss, Permanent Mistress. Kate Hardy
Lydia walked into the departure lounge at twenty-five past nine, the next morning, Jake was already there, sitting on a chair with his right ankle resting on his left knee to make a temporary desk and a sheaf of papers cradled on his lap. There was a pen in his right hand and a mobile phone in his left, and he looked completely in command of the situation.
No wonder he was drawing admiring glances from every single female in the vicinity. That aura of confidence was incredibly sexy.
Add the fact that he had the most beautiful mouth, and…
Lydia shook herself, horrified to find herself actually fantasising about walking up to Jake and kissing him stupid. Apart from the fact that he was her boss, and therefore off limits, she’d steered clear of serious relationships since she was twenty.
Ever since she’d dated the unsuitable artist she’d overheard her father buying off.
Her disillusionment had been total. Before that fateful afternoon, she’d seriously considered dropping out of university and following her heart, despite the fact that she’d known she’d be disappointing her parents. Because it would have meant being with the man she loved and making a living out of doing what she really wanted to do. It hadn’t mattered that she and Robbie would have been practically penniless; she’d known they’d work it out, somehow, because they were a team. She’d been so sure that Robbie had loved her just as much as she had loved him.
Until she’d overheard that conversation.
And realised that Robbie hadn’t hesitated even for a second before taking her father’s cheque.
He’d broken up with her later that evening—just as he’d promised her father he would. He’d looked her straight in the eye and told her he was sorry, but he’d fallen in love with someone else—and she knew damn well he hadn’t.
It had been a something, not a someone.
Money.
She dragged in a breath. That was then. This was now. But she hadn’t quite let herself trust anyone since. For the year and a half after Robbie, she’d taken refuge in her studies, working hard to make sure she graduated with first-class honours and had people falling over themselves to offer her a training contract. Sure, she’d dated a few men since she left university—if she hadn’t, she knew that her best friend, Emma, would have insisted on matchmaking—but she’d always kept things casual, never accepting more than half a dozen dates before saying gently that she thought they’d be better off as friends.
When was the last time she’d felt a pull of attraction like this? An urge to cup someone’s face between her hands and lower her mouth to his and kiss him until they were both breathless, regardless of the fact that they were in a public place?
She couldn’t remember.
But what she did know was that Jakob Anderson was definitely Mr Wrong. He was her boss. So there couldn’t be a future in this.
As for the fact that she was planning huge changes in her life, changes that meant he wouldn’t be her boss for much longer…Well, those changes also meant she wouldn’t have time for anything else in her life. So it was pointless starting anything.
She lifted her chin, pinned a smile to her face that she didn’t quite feel, and went over to sit beside him.
He acknowledged her with a nod and a brief waggle of his fingers, wrapped up his call, and turned to her. ‘Good morning, Lydia.’
‘Good morning.’
He glanced at his watch. ‘Thanks for being punctual.’ He smiled at her and she was suddenly glad she was sitting down as her knees actually went weak.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
He scrutinised her boots. ‘Are they waterproof?’
‘They’re leather.’
‘And they’ll be ruined within a day.’ He flapped a dismissive hand. ‘Never mind, we’ll get you something at the airport when we land. At least your coat is suitable.’
‘And it’s definitely windproof.’
He tipped his head slightly to one side. ‘And you know that, how?’
‘My best friend nagged me into doing a sponsored walk coast to coast with her. Let’s just say the north of England can be a bit windy. And wet.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you sure that you really need a lawyer with you? You seem to be quite good at grilling people.’
He laughed. ‘Force of habit. I apologise. Do you want a coffee?’
‘Do I have time to get one before our flight?’
He surprised her by scooping up his papers and putting them in his briefcase. ‘Stay put and I’ll get them—what do you want?’
‘Latte, if they have it, please. Otherwise, just ordinary coffee with milk, no sugar. But, hang on, shouldn’t I be getting these?’
Jake stood up. ‘Why?’
‘Because you’re the head of the company, and technically I’m your junior.’
‘You’re my colleague,’ he corrected, ‘so we’ll take it in turns to fetch coffee.’ His tone brooked no argument. ‘Do you want anything to eat?’
‘Thanks for the offer, but no. I’m fine.’
She watched him walk away, his movements easy and graceful and incredibly sexy, and her fingers itched to sketch him.
To touch him.
Down, girl, she warned her libido silently. Wrong time, wrong place, wrong man.
He returned with coffee and gingerbread. ‘It was fresh out of the oven. I’m prepared to share, but I won’t argue if you refuse.’
‘Your weakness?’ she guessed.
‘Blame it on memories of Saturday mornings in my Norwegian grandmother’s kitchen.’ He grinned, suddenly looking younger, and her heart skipped a beat. Jakob Andersen in work mode was gorgeous enough. In play mode, he was breathtaking.
His fingers brushed against hers as he handed her the coffee, sending a shiver of desire down her spine. She hoped he hadn’t noticed; the last thing she needed now was complications.
One last job. That was what they’d agreed. And then she could resign and get on with the life she really wanted to lead.
‘Do you mind if I…?’ He fished his phone from his inside pocket.
‘Sure. I have stuff to be getting on with, too.’ Emails of her own to check on her BlackBerry.
‘Fine. Help yourself to gingerbread.’
She didn’t dare. Just in case she reached for the bag at the same time as him, and their fingers ended up tangling, and she ended up blurting out the crazy ideas in her head.
This really wasn’t on. For all she knew, Jake was already committed elsewhere, and the last thing they needed was an embarrassing situation just before they left the country to work together for a few days.
An insidious voice in her head reminded her that Jakob Andersen worked the kind of hours that few women would put up with, so he was probably single.
But she refused to listen. As far as she was concerned, he was off limits and staying that way.
Lydia had just about got herself under control by the time they checked in and boarded the plane. Jake was busy reading through paperwork; she knew she ought to do the same, but he’d given her the window seat and the pattern of clouds was irresistible. A glance told her that Jake was totally absorbed in what he was doing, so she took out the sketchpad and tin of pencils she always carried in her handbag, and began sketching. She worked swiftly, her pencil skimming the page.
And then she realised what she was sketching. Not the clouds: a picture