Bedded By The Boss. Yvonne LindsayЧитать онлайн книгу.
leaped out of her chair to receive it, a smile rising to her lips.
“Thanks!”
She ripped open the card with trembling fingers.
“Mr. Al Mansur, thanks for all you’ve done for us in Alberta. In eager anticipation of another banner year, yours, Tony Leon, Acme Drilling Co.”
It wasn’t for her. It was for Elan. A corporate gift. Probably another set of gold-plated golf tees.
Sara sagged with misery. How pathetic that she’d so quickly assumed Elan had made a romantic gesture.
Wishful thinking.
She put the box in his office and returned to her chair to resume her anxious vigil.
But he didn’t come in.
By noon she was confused and upset. He’d missed an important meeting with a supplier, yet had not asked her to take his place in it. Apparently he’d phoned his regrets to the other attendees.
“When is he coming?” asked first one caller, then another and another.
“I’m not exactly certain,” gradually became a mumbled, “I don’t know,” as Sara’s professional demeanor slipped a little further with each admission. She maintained his schedule, made all his appointments and usually knew his movements better than he did.
She was tempted to call his home to see if he was okay. But he’d excused himself from the meeting so he was obviously alive. He’d simply chosen not to come into the office today.
Had chosen not to see her.
“When’s Mr. Al Mansur coming back from Turkey?”
“What?” Sara glanced up from her work, anxiety spiking in her gut.
The Assistant VP for Production stood in front of her desk, a pen pressed to her carefully made-up lips. “It’s just that I really need him to sign these documents. I had no idea he was leaving for Turkey today.”
“Me neither.” Despair descended in a heavy fog. He’d left the country without telling her?
“Are you okay?” The other woman’s concern wrinkled her smooth brow as she hugged her thick folder of documents to her chest.
“Sure.” The word emerged excessively loud as she tried to exude self-confidence she didn’t feel. “I’m not sure when he’ll be back,” she said more quietly. She didn’t even know which airline he’d taken. He must have bought his own ticket.
“Is he there to look over the El Barak field? The one where the wells needed deepening?”
“I expect so.” She struggled to sound as normal as possible. “I’ll let you know as soon as I hear from him.”
“You don’t look well. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes. Just a slight headache, I’ll take an aspirin for it.”
She rested her head on her desk as the door closed behind her coworker. A woman ten years older than herself and in a position of considerable authority. She was everything Sara hoped to be herself: respected, liked and admired for her quick thinking and effective teamwork.
That could have been her in a few years. If I hadn’t slept with my boss.
If only she could take an aspirin for heartache.
Elan was gone for four days. She spoke to him twice on the phone and their conversations were entirely professional. He wanted some documents e-mailed to him. He advised her of his return flight. She reported the minutes of a meeting he’d missed.
There was no mention, or even suggestion, of what had happened between them.
Sara was sure she would be terminated as soon as he returned. After all, she’d promised that if she didn’t perform as agreed—including keeping her eyes and hands off the boss—he could fire her outright. With that promise she’d slammed the door on any sexual harassment lawsuit.
She attempted to polish her résumé, but realized she couldn’t even include this job on it if she’d been here only one month. It would be obvious she’d been fired.
She wondered if she could beg him to keep her on for a few more months, just until she could find something else. She wondered if she could brazenly insist on holding her job, as she’d done on the first day.
It takes two to tango.
Even if she’d been warned from the outset that tangoing with the boss was strictly not on the agenda at Al Mansur Associates.
“Good afternoon, Sara.” Elan swept past her like a gust of wind, blowing through the doors from the elevator and into his office. His door slammed behind him before her brain fully registered his presence.
She hadn’t even managed a polite greeting.
Her pulse pounded in her temple as she dragged herself to her feet. She picked up a big stack of papers and a long series of messages she’d collected. There was nothing for it but to go in. Might as well get it over with.
She hesitated, held up her trembling fist for a moment before rapping on the door. Should she say anything about what had happened? Attempt a preemptive apology? She’d have to play it by ear. Ears almost deafened by the blood thundering in her head.
She knocked.
“Come in.”
The door swung open to reveal Elan seated in his leather throne. He looked up as if startled, though he must have known it would be her. He sprang to his feet and ran a broad hand through his hair.
“Sara.”
She gulped. “Yes.”
He looked right at her and she froze, turned to stone. His eyes were narrowed in a penetrating gaze, black and shadowed, his face taut, jaw clenched.
“I feel I must offer my most humble apologies for the events of last week.”
Her gut seized and she held her breath.
“You are a valued employee here. I think it’s best if we do not mention those events again.”
Thoughts rushed her brain and swept around in minicyclones—he isn’t firing me.
He wanted to forget their night together.
The rush of relief at getting to keep her job was undercut by a harsh stab of humiliating disappointment. Had she really expected to continue some kind of intimate relationship with Elan? Even after he disappeared for days, fled to the other side of the world to avoid her?
The ache in her heart told her she had.
“Yes,” she whispered. Her voice emerged as a hiss of steam released from an overheated radiator, but she was relieved she could find it at all. “Thank you.”
She could almost swear she saw him flinch as she said “thank you.” Was he disgusted that she didn’t resign on principle? Someone wealthy like him probably couldn’t understand how you could need a job more than your pride.
He nodded curtly. She cleared her throat and attempted to give him his messages in as normal a voice as possible.
He listened politely and responded appropriately, but as she talked she could see him looking almost anywhere but at her. A muscle worked in his jaw and his shoulders were rigid with tension. His discomfort in her presence was obvious.
And he had good reason to be uncomfortable. Because even as she spoke, her mind wandered. Wondered. Remembered the feel of his hands on her. Remembered the scent of him as she buried her face in his neck. Remembered the sweet, soothing warmth of being held tightly in his arms.
He studied a document, following the lines with his finger. The finger that had traced a line from her chin, to her belly button, to her agonizingly aroused… She blinked and swallowed hard, trying to shove down the disturbing sensations creeping