Out of Hours...His Feisty Assistant. Heidi Rice
said, her shoulders ramrod straight under the floating silk. ‘I also recall you telling me to leave your hotel. Which is what I intend to do, so you won’t have to pick me up off the floor again.’
‘Kate,’ he said, aiming for easygoing. ‘I’m not having that same argument all over again.’ Okay, maybe easygoing was going to be a stretch.
‘Good, because neither am I.’
She tried to walk past him. He stepped in front of her.
Defiance flashed in her eyes but behind it was something else. Something he’d seen the night before when he’d held her. Something that looked a lot like vulnerability. It gave him the cue he needed to say what he had to say.
‘I’ve got a proposition for you.’
Her eyes flared and he had to suppress a grin.
‘Not that kind of proposition.’Well, not quite anyway. ‘It’ll be worth your while. I swear. If you’ll sit down and listen.’
She still looked mutinous.
‘Please.’ The word made him feel uncomfortable, but when she huffed and sat back on her stool he figured it had been worth it.
‘All right, I’m listening,’ she said, her chin still thrust out.
She looked stiff as a poker, perched precariously on the edge of the stool, but at least he wasn’t watching her cute rear end walking out the door.
Now, how to say what he wanted to without setting her off again?
Luckily for him, he’d spent most of the night giving the problem a whole lot of thought and he had a plan. All he had to do was stick to it.
When he’d got her up to the penthouse the night before, his first concern had been getting her out of her outfit without waking her up.
It had been an exquisite kind of torture, the flowery scent she wore making him instantly hard as he’d recalled just how hot and ready she’d been in his arms the previous evening. He’d had no trouble keeping his thoughts G-rated, though, once he’d eased off her shoes and seen the raw, reddened skin on her heels and toes.
The guilt had swamped him. He’d tried to tell himself it wasn’t his fault that she’d worked herself to exhaustion. He wasn’t the bastard who’d stranded her in a foreign city with no clothes, no money. But he hadn’t quite managed to convince himself. The feeling of responsibility and the urge to keep her safe were as strong, if not stronger, than they had been when he’d carried her out of the bar.
He’d never met a woman as independent, as self-sufficient as she was or as determined to prove it. And he’d certainly never met a woman he wanted to take care of before. That the thought was arousing as well as infuriating was just another one of the contradictions that made his reaction to this woman unique.
He’d spent the previous day sulking, telling himself she could go hang herself for all he cared. But once he’d been sitting on the edge of his bed, watching the gentle rise and fall of her breathing, he’d had to admit that whatever it was that was between them, it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
While he’d been sitting there in the half-light considering that startling fact, a part of the conversation they’d had during their first meeting had poked at the back of his brain. Had she told him she’d been working as Andrew Rocastle’s PA? The possibility had seemed almost too fortuitous to be true so he’d had the concierge pull out Rocastle’s registration details and then made a late-night call to Rocastle’s company offices in London where it had been already morning. He’d spoken to a very helpful personnel woman who’d pointed out that Kate Denton had indeed worked as Rocastle’s PA until an ‘unfortunate incident’ two days ago. He knew all about the ‘unfortunate incident’and it hadn’t put him off in the least. Anyhow, he only need offer her a two-week contract. If she wasn’t up to the job he was offering her it hardly mattered. Her typing skills weren’t the main reason he wanted her at his beck and call.
Kate Denton was a fire in his blood he needed to get out. A few weeks with her working as his PA ought to cure him of his obsession once and for all—and if she did a halfway decent job, all the better.
Having decided to give the idea a shot, the only remaining obstacle was figuring out how to make Kate go for the deal. He’d stayed up half the night working out his strategy. Cooking her breakfast had been the first part of the plan. He’d stumbled, badly, by letting his frustration show a moment ago. Now he had her back on the stool and marginally willing to listen to what he had to say, he wasn’t about to make the same mistake again. Keep calm, he thought, keep cool and give the carrot the hard sell. He could get to the stick later, if he had to—he had the connections to stop her from getting any other jobs in Vegas—but for now, he figured the carrot was his best option.
‘The truth is, Kate, I’m in a fix and I need your help.’
‘What kind of a fix?’
‘My PA quit yesterday and I need someone with me in California for the next couple of weeks. How about it?’
‘You want to employ me? As your PA?’ Kate was so astonished, it was a miracle she didn’t fall off the stool.
‘Yeah. I can only offer you a two-week contract,’ he said, as if he were discussing the weather, ‘but it’ll be a lot more dough than you can get doing bar work and I’ll cover your expenses during the trip, naturally.’
‘You’re not serious?’ Surely this must be some kind of joke? He didn’t say anything, just looked at her, his eyes steady, his lips curving ever so slightly. ‘You are serious,’ she said, completely incredulous.
‘I need to close a deal I’ve been setting up for over two years. I’m selling my holdings in Vegas, buying a resort hotel in Big Sur called The Grange. Great coastal location, established clientele, with loads of potential for expansion and modernisation. I need someone to handle my planner, do the secretarial stuff as I hammer out the final details of the negotiation with the owner.’
‘Oh, I see,’ Kate murmured, her pulse scrambling into overdrive as her mind whizzed through the possibilities.
This could be the answer to all her prayers. A proper job, a challenging and exciting job that didn’t involve wielding a loo brush or toting a tray of margaritas looking like a pornographic sports groupie. She might not have liked Andrew much, but she’d adored being his PA and she’d been good at it too. Just from the lowly jobs she’d done over the last day, she knew The Phoenix franchise had a much higher profile than Andrew’s piddling Covent Garden design firm. Of course, it was only for two weeks, but in two weeks she could pay off her debts, get some invaluable experience to add to her CV and prove her…
Whoa, there, girl.
Kate’s enthusiastic ramblings slammed to a stop as they ran full tilt into a brick wall. There was one humongous problem with the sparkling career opportunity she was being offered—and it was sitting right in front of her with a sinfully tempting smile on its face.
‘So what do you say? You want to be my Girl Friday?’ the devil said.
Kate gave her head a quick shake, trying to clear out the burst of stardust that had momentarily short circuited her brain cells.
The problem was, she wouldn’t be working for Andrew. She’d be working for Zack. Gorgeous, irresistible, domineering Zack, who insisted on having everything his own way and would be entitled to demand it if he were her boss. As his PA she’d be working closely with him. Handling all those minute details that could feel so personal, so intimate. Hadn’t Andrew once joked that Kate was so efficient she was part personal assistant and part wife? Coming from Andrew it had seemed like an innocuous compliment. If she allowed herself to get into that role with Zack she’d be in considerably more danger. Maybe she ought to clarify what it was he was expecting of her. ‘Do you mind if I ask you something?’
The corners of his mouth quirked up in a knowing grin and she cursed the blush that worked its way up her neck.