Bedded By The Boss. Yvonne LindsayЧитать онлайн книгу.
unspoken words hung in the air between them. Sara shrank like Alice in Wonderland before the immaculately attired thirty-something blonde in her designer suit and high heels. Apparently Jill was impervious to whatever strange curse of irresistibility hung over the head of poor Elan. Sara felt thoroughly humbled.
“Not at all,” she managed. “I need this job and I mean to keep it.”
“You’ll do great,” Jill said, giving her a reassuring squeeze on the arm.
Sara nodded resolutely. “You bet I will.”
Sue him for reverse age discrimination, would she? Elan raised his eyebrows. That was a first. She obviously knew little about discrimination law, but it stung that she’d thought to accuse him of bias.
He had nothing against female employees. He’d even hire them out in the oil fields if they wanted the work.
But he wanted nothing more to do with simpering maidens who draped themselves across his desk and fluttered their eyelashes over his morning coffee. They exhausted him with their intrigues and flirtations. And none of them could even make a decent cup of coffee. Weak—the coffee and the women.
He looked up at a knock on the door. “Come in.”
Sara entered with a report he’d asked her to prepare and placed the file on his desk.
“Can I get you anything?” Her voice rang in his silent office like a bell. She waited quietly. A strand of pale hair had come loose from her bun and fluttered near her chin, which lifted in a gesture of defiance.
“I could use a cup of coffee.” He cocked his head.
“I don’t know how to make coffee.” She stared at him, her attitude almost insolent. He leaned forward in his chair, struck by her refusal.
“I suspect you have the aptitude to figure it out,” he said slowly. “But never mind. Too much caffeine rattles the nerves.”
He saw a slight smile tug at the corners of her mouth, but she quickly gained control of her features and regarded him once again with a stony expression.
He’d felt the sharp edge of her attitude and he had to admit he liked it. She stood her ground admirably.
She leaned over to replace the cap on a pen lying open on his desk. The loose strand of hair hung momentarily in her eyes and she raised a hand to brush it aside. As she tucked the lock behind her ear she looked up at him, caught off guard, and their eyes met.
A mute challenge.
Suddenly his office seemed uncomfortably warm.
She turned and left without another word. A good sign. She wouldn’t bend his ear with idle chitchat.
He’d give her the chance she asked for. That she’d demanded. He’d seen the fire that flared in her eyes. Eyes the color of rare jade, cool and flecked with gold. Fringed with pale lashes that had blinked in anger as she’d stared him down.
A plain little thing? What an expression. He was amused by the way some people defined beauty in terms of how loudly it shouted at you. For him, true beauty was a quality that shone from within, that brightened and strengthened, like the morning sun rising behind dark mountains. A force that could be dangerous to its beholder.
But Sara’s quiet beauty had no effect on him. He’d grown used to enjoying the more obvious kind of feminine attributes. When in Rome… Fast cars, fast women and the comfort and ease of being alone in his bed at the end of the day.
No ties, no responsibilities, no commitments. Something that would be unheard of, horrifying even, to the people he’d left behind in Oman.
But he had everything he needed here, including freedom from the crippling bonds of traditions that had no place in the modern world.
* * *
Sara spent much of the afternoon rearranging the files in her desk. Her predecessor’s organizational system baffled her. But then it didn’t sound like she’d been there long. Nor had the woman before her or the one before that.
Had they all fallen victim to the dangerous charms of a boss who wanted nothing more than an efficient worker?
She smoothed the last of her newly printed labels on her neatly rearranged file folders and eased the drawer shut.
Her boss emerged from his office and walked past her desk without saying a word or even looking in her direction. He strode across the floor with the powerful gait of a predator.
As the tall mahogany door to the elevator lobby closed behind him, Sara reflected that Elan himself must be the reason this job came with hardship pay. She could already see he worked like a demon and expected his employees to do the same.
Oh, she could be a demon all right.
She felt a little circumspect about entering his office when he was away, but he hadn’t actually told her to keep out. She planned to organize it in a such a way that he’d wonder how he ever survived without her.
She pushed open the door and stepped into the hushed space. No paintings or statues, not a single photograph ornamented his desk. Elan was clearly all business all the time.
She’d felt it necessary to establish that she was not the coffee waitress, but now she was keen to prove she’d do everything in her power to make Elan’s day run smoothly. With brisk efficiency, she sorted and rearranged the disarray of papers on his desk, labeling them with sticky notes if they required action. She sharpened his pencils and tested his pens, threw away any dry ones.
She’d rustled up a can of WD-40 to rid his chair of its infuriating squeak. Proud to be a roll-up-the-sleeves type of person, she was on her hands and knees under the chair when the door opened.
“What on earth…?” Her boss’s deep voice rumbled across the silent office. From her vantage point under the desk she could see two shiny black brogues, and the crisp cuffs of his pinstriped suit.
A fist of apprehension seized her gut and she obeyed the instinctive urge to leap to her feet.
“Ouch!” She banged her head hard on the underside of the chair.
The brogues took a step forward and Sara swallowed hard. She maneuvered out from under the massive chair and clambered to her feet with as much dignity as her fitted skirt would allow.
The sunset streaming through the wall of windows made her blink. As did the sight of Elan, his broad shoulders silhouetted in the doorway. His suit jacket was unbuttoned and his tie loosened, revealing a glimpse of dark throat that beckoned her eyes.
The harsh features of his face gleamed like rare metal in the copper rays of the lowering sun as he stared at her, dark brows lowered over narrowed eyes.
He looked down at the shining mahogany surface that had previously been covered by papers, then at her, and the can in her hand.
“What are you doing?”
She cleared her throat. “Your chair creaks.”
One black brow raised.
“Didn’t you notice? It’s been driving me crazy. Let’s see if I got it.” She jumped down into the seat of the enormous leather chair and was pleased to hear absolutely nothing. “I think I nailed it.”
He hadn’t moved a muscle. “What have you done to my desk?” He wrenched his eyes from hers to the newly uncluttered expanse of mahogany.
“I sorted your papers into relevant categories. I didn’t throw anything away, but the pile on the left can go, I think.”
He frowned at her. His face darkened and suspicion clouded his eyes. “How could you possibly know enough about my work to organize my papers on your first day?”
“Instinct.”
But all instinct fled as her skin began to sizzle under Elan’s searing gaze.
“Please