Blackmailed Into Her Boss’s Bed. Sandra MartonЧитать онлайн книгу.
and forced her to face him. ‘I saw the way you looked at me today,’ he said softly. ‘You liked what you saw, Miss Roberts. But you were damned determined not to admit it.’
Colour flooded her cheeks. ‘You flatter yourself.’
He laughed. ‘Do I?’
In the second before he kissed her, Talia knew what he was going to do. But there was no time to stop him—he pulled her into his arms with a speed that took her breath away. One hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back, while the other cupped her chin.
‘No.’ Panic turned her voice thready. ‘Don’t—’
His mouth silenced her. Talia raised her hands and slammed them against his chest, but he only shifted her more closely against him, imprisoning her with his strength. His mouth moved on hers, hard and deliberate, and gradually he forced her lips to open to the demand of his. His kiss became an invasion of her senses: she tasted his heat, felt the mockery of passion his tongue made as it sought hers.
The assault of his embrace flamed through her, scorching a path the length of her body. Talia grew still in the stranger’s arms; her lashes fell to her cheeks as a strange lethargy spread through her. She swayed in his arms and he murmured something incomprehensible against her mouth, his kiss gentling, deepening.
His hand slid to her waist, and she felt the light press of his fingers just beneath her breast. For a tick of eternity, she felt abandoned by time and reality. A nameless fear welled within her, more of herself than of him.
With a sob of desperation, Talia pushed hard against his chest and twisted free of his embrace.
‘Are you always this brave,’ she said, after her heart had stopped racing, ‘or is it because I’m a woman that you think you can take what you want?’
He laughed. ‘If you mean do I always get what I want, the answer is yes.’
His voice was harsh, his tone contemptuous, and Talia thought she’d never hated anyone as she hated him. Anger fuelled her courage. ‘Then this will be the first time you don’t.’
‘There’s always a way, Talia.’ His eyes were cool as they moved over her. ‘Haven’t I just proved that?’
Her hand was a blur as it rose between them, but he was faster. He caught her wrist before she could strike him, his fingers curving tightly around the slender bones, and she drew a sharp breath.
‘Let go of me. Do you hear me? I—’
Laughter drifted towards them. There was the sound of feet scuffling on the gravel path, and suddenly a young couple stepped into the redwood grove. Talia recognised the boy—he was one of the servers she’d hired, and from the way she was dressed the girl was, too.
The couple’s laughter faded and they stood staring at Talia and the man. The little tableau remained still and silent and then, suddenly, he let go of Talia’s hand and stepped back.
‘Until we meet again, Talia,’ he said softly, and then he turned to the boy. ‘Help Miss Roberts to the inn. She’s had an accident.’
The couple sprang apart, the boy moving quickly to Talia’s side. ‘Yes, sir.’
Talia shook her head. ‘I’m fine. It’s only my shoe. I…’
Her words trailed away as the man turned and began running easily down the path. ‘Sir’, the boy had said, the word taut with deference. A little while before, it would have seemed ludicrous that anyone would address a man wearing T-shirt, frayed shorts and scuffed running shoes with such respect. But the stranger’s tone and bearing had suddenly commanded it. ‘Until we meet again,’ he’d said.
The breath caught in Talia’s throat. Suddenly, she knew beyond doubt that they would.
JOHN DIAMOND examined the tray before him as if the chicken pieces laid out on it might suddenly spring up and attack him. ‘What did you call this stuff?’ he asked, picking up the serving fork and gingerly moving aside a pineapple ring.
Talia smiled. ‘I didn’t call it anything,’ she said, watching as he put some chicken on his plate and cut into it. ‘It’s labelled batch number seven—although the kitchen staff’s been calling it Chicken Hawaiian.’
John put his fork to his mouth, chewed slowly, then swallowed and made a face. ‘How about calling it a mistake and letting it go at that?’ he said, pushing his plate aside and taking a long sip from a glass of iced water. ‘Much too sweet—nobody wants anything that sugary today.’ He glanced towards the closed door that connected the executive dining-room to the kitchen. ‘What’s next? Or don’t I want to know?’
‘Something involving artichokes, fillet of sole and capers.’ Her boss rolled his eyes and Talia laughed softly. ‘Well, you asked Staff to come up with some exotic offerings, John.’
‘Remind me to tell them exotic doesn’t mean inedible, hmm?’ John’s mouth drew up in a good-humoured smile. ‘What the hell, that’s what our monthly Surprise Luncheon is for, isn’t it? Better to test out new concoctions on ourselves than on our clients. And we average far more successes than failures.’ He took another sip of water, then set down his glass and looked at Talia. ‘Speaking of successes, I’ve had glowing reports about the Miller Weekend.’
Talia looked up. ‘I meant to thank you for sending me a copy of the letter from the inn,’ she said. ‘I’m glad they thought it went well.’
Her boss shook his head. ‘Not just the inn. I had a letter from Miller himself yesterday.’ He paused as the connecting door swung open and a waitress appeared bearing a covered platter. John sniffed as she set it down and took off the cover, and then he sighed. ‘Capers and artichokes, hmm? Do us a favour, Ann. Ask the kitchen to send out a couple of omelettes, will you? Thanks.’ He waited until the girl had hurried off, and then he covered the offending dish and shoved it aside. ‘You win some and lose some, I guess.’
Talia leaned forward. ‘You heard from Logan Miller?’
Her boss nodded. ‘Yeah. The big man himself.’ He looked at her and smiled. ‘He was impressed. Very impressed. Good food, good service, everything planned to the last detail…’
‘As if he’d know,’ she said impatiently. ‘I told you, he never showed up. Well, I suppose he did, I know he was listed as speaker at their general meeting and as chairman at some workshop, but I never laid eyes on him. He wasn’t at the cocktail party Friday evening or the dinner either night or—’
‘No one ever introduced you, you mean.’
Talia shook her head. ‘He wasn’t there, John. You could tell from the way people were acting.’
‘Didn’t you say you only made cursory appearances each evening?’
‘I followed company policy,’ Talia said defensively. ‘Stay in the background, be available if needed—’
John held his hands up. ‘For heaven’s sake, I wasn’t criticising you. You did a great job—didn’t I just tell you that? I’m only pointing out that just because you didn’t see Miller it doesn’t mean he wasn’t there. Anyway, you should count yourself fortunate he stayed out of your hair. Corporate weekends are rough enough without the top brass breathing down your neck.’
Talia nodded. ‘I know. And I’m glad to hear that Mr Miller was satisfied.’
‘More than satisfied, according to his letter.’ Her employer smiled. ‘I knew you’d be pleased; I gather you worked your tail off that weekend. You looked as if you hadn’t slept a wink when you showed up at the office Monday morning.’
Talia nodded as the door swung open again and the waitress brought their omelettes to the table. ‘It was—it was a tough weekend, yes,’ she said slowly.