Hot Boss, Wicked Nights. Anne Oliver
There was an emphasis on that last word as if condemning him for not turning up to the funeral. He didn’t bother telling her the news of Bryce’s death hadn’t reached him until a few days ago. ‘Thanks, Kate. I’ll give you a call later.’ He sent a smile her way but she wasn’t giving him eye contact.
He turned, swept his gaze over the table as he smiled at each individual in turn and said, ‘Thank you, everyone. I think that’s it for now. As for Aussie Essential Travel, don’t worry. We’ll all muddle through this together.’
Hushed conversation ensued as staff members skirted the table. Kate pushed up too, but he laid a restraining hand over one of hers. ‘A moment of your time, Kate.’ He didn’t remove his hand right away, enjoying the feel of her smooth fingers beneath his, even if they were clenched like grim death.
She resented him being here. No, he decided, it was more than that.
He leaned back in his chair and watched her as the room emptied. She stared back at him with unsmiling eyes, a contrast to the dark desire he’d seen there thirty-six hours ago. This conservative Kate with her raven-black hair imprisoned in a tight knot, those gorgeous breasts crammed into a demure navy suit, was no Oriental temptress. Even the no-frills name ‘Kate’ conjured an entirely different image from the sultry ‘Sha-ki-ra’. A double personality.
Maybe a double life? he mused, watching her struggle with a riot of emotions. ‘You and Bryce were friends, I’m told.’
‘Yes.’ She looked down at her hand beneath his, then yanked it away to clench it over her other one on her lap. Her head jerked up, and her eyes flashed, sunlight glinting on ice. ‘He was a caring and generous boss. And a true gentleman.’
Ah, well, that last attribute left him out in the cold. As far as she was concerned at any rate, if her expression was anything to go by. Yep, he’d been anything but a gentleman on Saturday night.
And she’d enjoyed every wild and wicked moment, this prim and proper woman in front of him. He felt his mouth kick up at the corner despite himself.
‘What are you smiling about?’ Before he could draw breath she continued, jamming each word onto a skewer. ‘Let me guess. You’ve just had a business fall into your lap.’
She was, he thought, his half-grin still in place, magnificent in anger.
She was also way off base. He didn’t need a failing business; he had enough problems with his own at this moment.
‘He’s been gone a matter of weeks.’ Her voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. ‘Have you no respect?’
His facial muscles tightened. If this was about Bry, she wouldn’t understand that Damon refused to look back. It didn’t mean he didn’t mourn Bry’s death in his own way. Nor did he have to justify himself to her. ‘It’s not about respect. Life goes on, Kate.’
She blinked, then sneezed. Snatched the box of tissues on the table. ‘Obviously he meant little to you,’ she said, swiping at her nose.
‘We lived in the same house when I was growing up. He was only nine years older than me; I knew him as well as you’d know a brother.’
‘And how long ago was that?’
Years. ‘I’m living in the US at present, but we kept in contact via email, by phone.’ Usually when Bryce wanted extra funds.
She must have had it rough over the past couple of weeks, he thought. Besides, she looked damn unwell. ‘You’re sick. Go home and take the rest of the day off,’ he suggested quietly. ‘I’ll be in touch later.’
She raised her mascara-stained red eyes and stared at him as if he’d grown horns. ‘Who are you to tell me I can take the day off? I haven’t had a day off in three years. I’m the most senior staff member here; I can’t run away from my responsibilities. People might need me.’
He nodded. He had to admire her dedication. Most employees would be running for their duvets. ‘Okay. But if you change your mind, no one’ll think badly of you.’
She pushed up, taking the tissue box and notepad with her. ‘But I would.’
‘Hey,’ he said softly. ‘Go easy on yourself. I’m staying at Bryce’s apartment if you need to get in touch.’ He took the pad from her hand, scrawled his mobile number beneath her notes.
‘I’m sure that won’t be necessary,’ she replied frostily. ‘I can handle any situation should it arise.’
He met her gaze. ‘I don’t doubt it. But just in case.’
He watched her go, then spent a few moments checking his messages, made a couple of calls, then slipped out the back way. He unlocked the luxury BMW he’d leased yesterday for the time he’d be here, and sat for a few moments, barely seeing the charming row of Paddington’s little terraced houses as Kylie Minogue sang on the stereo.
‘What have you got me into, Bry?’ he said, staring at the darkening clouds. He’d already injected a six-figure lump sum into Bry’s business account a couple of years back. A loan, Bry had said. Where the hell had that money gone?
After collecting the keys from Security at Bryce’s apartment yesterday he’d driven to the office and taken a quick look at the figures. Then wished to blazes he hadn’t. A decision to shut up shop meant six employees would be out of a job, a situation that didn’t sit well with him. After all, turning struggling businesses around was his forte.
The million-dollar question was did he want to spend the time and energy, not to mention yet more of his own capital that the agency would need, here? In Sydney?
He’d grown up here. Lived with his grandmother through most of his adolescence. He’d been a mistake, he’d been told at age five, and he’d never been allowed to forget it. Until Grandma had put her steel-capped foot down and insisted he grow up in a stable environment with her and his father’s younger brother while his parents chased storms around the US.
Eventually they’d stopped coming home altogether. The last time he’d seen them was at his grandmother’s funeral ten years ago. He had no idea where they were now and he cared even less.
That was what he reminded himself as a chill seemed to wrap around his bones despite the car’s warmth. ‘I’d have come back sooner, Bry, if I’d known.’
But they’d never been close. Damon had his own life. If it wasn’t his Internet business it was deciding where his next thrill-seeking BASE jump would take him. Parachuting off buildings, bridges and mountains—the ultimate extreme sport and the only way to live.
So now he’d inherited a business he didn’t want but felt a familial obligation to put right. And an unwanted attraction for a woman who couldn’t stand the sight of him.
Yet she’d been all over him like a red-hot rash on Saturday night. Hadn’t been able to get enough of him. Had the fact that he’d taken a business call instead of engaging in some sort of post-coital conversation done it?
No, her hostility towards him was all about the business. He’d usurped her authority. And she was right—pleasurable as it had been, Saturday night was of no consequence. As she was the centre’s most senior staff member, he needed her support if he was going to keep Aussie Essential. Somehow he had to get Kate the employee onside.
Somewhere away from the office environment might work. A peace offering. Food. Did she like pizza? he wondered.
Kate could see the door from her desk and let out a relieved sigh when she saw Damon Gillespie’s broad shoulders as he exited the room and headed to the rear of the building. Could the day get any worse? She closed her eyes. Yeah, it could have been worse.
He could have recognised her.
Bryce’s nephew.
Perhaps her soon-to-be boss, if his take-charge attitude was any indication. A man she despised for all the right reasons—a