Hot Boss, Wicked Nights. Anne OliverЧитать онлайн книгу.
grinned. ‘I’m sure you will. Kate…’ his grin sobered ‘…you’ve been doing a great job there. Thank you.’
She needed to say, had to say, ‘Bryce intended making me manager. Next month.’
‘He was leaving?’
‘I don’t know what he intended. He hadn’t told me anything more than he was taking some time off.’
Damon’s brows drew together. ‘We’ve got some decisions to make. I’ll need your staffing knowledge and expertise.’
What the heck did that mean? At this point all she could do was nod a reluctant acceptance.
‘Good night, Kate.’ He hesitated on the step.
His cologne teased her nostrils. Oh, my God, was he going to kiss her? She didn’t realise she’d stepped back until his bronze eyes flashed in the reflected light from the hall. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing.’
His eyes narrowed, as if he was trying to figure her out. He was being a gentleman, unlike the bad boy she’d experienced Saturday night, making it hard for her to reconcile the two. Or more like he was just being the businessman and she was the only one with sex on her mind.
A flush rose to her cheeks and she tucked her hands beneath her armpits. ‘Goodnight.’
She closed the door the moment he left and leaned back against it. She heard a car door shut, the smooth purr of a well-tuned engine, then listened as the sound faded.
Only then did she breathe the sigh she’d held inside for the past few moments. He’d been nice this evening, not the take-charge guy in the office this morning. He’d brought her pizza and his grandma’s recipe. What kind of man thought to bring a girl he barely knew something like that? Something of himself. The same kind who’d have sex with a girl he didn’t know?
But men could compartmentalise their lives. Especially where sex was concerned. She only had to think of her ex-fiancé. She’d never trust a man again. Nor did she think she could trust her own judgement again. One mistake was enough.
But it was kind of sad to think that Damon would be on his own tonight. She couldn’t imagine having no family, no support through the tough times. Even if her dad was overbearing and treated her as if she were sixteen rather than thirty, she could forgive him because she knew he’d do anything for her. Damon had none of that.
But she needed to remember—he was the boss she’d had a one-night stand with—which left her in a precarious position.
She was sure he hadn’t recognised her. Thank goodness for that; she was safe for now. And yet, instead of being relieved, perversely, the knowledge somehow disappointed her.
Bryce’s apartment was on the outskirts of the city’s business district. Damon spent the following morning cleaning up. He did a quick inventory, then went grocery shopping for a few essentials.
By midday he sat at the cramped, overloaded desk in Bry’s home office. He’d been at it for more than an hour, trying—and failing—to find some logical order to the shoeboxes brimming with papers. He pulled out an overdue electricity account from the top of one, let it fall back on the desk. He had no doubt Bry ran his business the same way.
Hell.
He massaged the stiffness at the back of his neck, then scrubbed a hand over his face. His eyes felt sandy. His jaw ached from clenching his teeth. It was interrupted sleep, that was what it was. Caused by the woman who’d taken up residence inside his head. It had taken all his will power last night not to kiss Kate.
He’d made love to her. The most beguiling woman he’d ever seen. The most responsive woman he’d ever had. She’d fulfilled his every fantasy with her sultry mystery, and that erotic ruby glitter in her belly button. The way she’d come undone at his touch, her unrestrained abandon.
It had been a charade; Sha-ki-ra really was a fantasy. Kate Fielding’s alter ego. Fascinating. Who’d have thought straight-down-the-line Kate from the agency’s office liked to play?
The question that interested him was did she play by the same rules he did?
CHAPTER FOUR
KATE arrived at work early on Tuesday just in case Damon changed his mind and turned up unexpectedly. No way was she going to let him see she wasn’t up to the job. She switched on her computer and called up one of yesterday’s files.
Last night she’d used the oils he’d given her and indulged in a hot, fragrant bath. Whether it was the fantasy of imagining him sharing it with her, the knowledge that Damon had given her the oils, or his grandmother’s recipe, she’d felt amazing afterwards. Revived, refreshed.
Didn’t mean she felt any less resentment towards him this morning. Today it was back to business. Business and recreation were separate entities. Say it again, business and recreation are sep—
‘So, what do you think?’ Sandy’s voice interrupted her inner lecture.
Kate glanced up from her computer, took one look at the dreamy expression on her colleague’s face and knew what Sandy meant. Still, she said, ‘About what?’
‘The new boss. Damon.’
The way she said his name, like a sigh, grated on Kate’s nerves. Not the way a staff member should talk about a potential employer, Kate thought with a primness that surprised even her.
‘He’s not strictly our boss, Sandy.’ Kate resumed tapping keys, suddenly aware of a prickly heat beneath the front of her crisp white blouse. ‘Not until he says he’s our boss. He hasn’t told us what he’s decided yet. He might sell.’
‘But he’s already making changes.’
Kate stopped typing and stared at her. ‘Changes?’
‘Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the new state-of-the-art whiz-bang coffee machine in the lunch room?’
Coffee machine? When had that been delivered? Where did he think the money for that was coming from, for heaven’s sake? Not the social-club funds. ‘I haven’t had time for coffee. I’ve this group booking to finalise and the airline’s giving me the runaround. Anyway, we don’t need a coffee machine,’ she muttered.
‘What’s with you?’ Sandy frowned at Kate over her computer monitor. ‘You’ve been nothing but snarly with him. You got something against drop-dead gorgeous?’
‘No. If you go for that rugged outdoorsy type.’ Kate resumed studying her computer screen without really seeing it, but looked up again as something occurred to her. ‘You didn’t tell me he phoned me yesterday afternoon.’
‘Oh. I forgot. Sorry.’
‘You told him I was with a customer. I didn’t have any customers. I worked out back because I didn’t want to infect anyone with my sniffles.’
Sandy shrugged, a half-baked smile on her face. ‘Guess I was mistaken. Sorry again.’ She bounced up off her chair. ‘Let me make it up to you. I’ll make you the best coffee you ever had. It even makes cappuccino—’
‘No!’ Kate snapped. ‘No,’ she said again, striving for the calm professionalism she was known for, which seemed to have deserted her this week. ‘Thanks, I’ll get one myself in a while.’ Drop-dead gorgeous was already the cause of office conflict and he hadn’t been here more than forty-eight hours.
Coffee machine! She scoffed to herself as she punched in the airline’s number yet again and was put on hold. It was obvious he was trying to lure the staff onto his side. Sandy was already there. They’d like him, they’d want him to stay. Where would that leave her?
And what next after the coffee machine? An Under New Management sign on the window and a change in name? Damon Gillespie looked like the kind of man who’d want to make his own mark