Her Millionaire Boss. Jennie Adams
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experience do you have? What are your credentials? What training do you have in high-level management?’ He fired the questions at her with the accuracy of a paint-ball champion. They hit and spread as quickly, undermining her shaky resolve. ‘What if Henry’s recovery takes months? What if it never happens?’
‘He will get better. Totally better.’ Henry was talking already. Surely that boded well for the future? ‘As for the rest, I’ve worked closely enough with Henry that I know—’
‘Watching isn’t the same as doing.’ His expression hardened, demanded that she accept his words. ‘It’s not enough. Not in the longer term.’
‘For a week or two—’
‘It’ll be longer. You saw how he looked.’
She wanted to argue, but he was right, darn him. Still, accepting that fact didn’t come easily. ‘OK, so suppose you’re right and his complete recovery takes longer. What happens?’
‘I take care of things. It’s what I told him back there, and I meant it.’ His words brushed off her concerns like unwanted lint on his pristine suit. ‘You’ll co-operate with me? While I straighten things out here?’
‘I’m surprised you’re willing to stay indefinitely, but, provided your actions are in the best interests of the company, I’ll do my best to support you.’
Who knew, she thought madly, maybe Nate would find a way to breathe new life into the company? Lately, she had begun to wonder if everything was OK. It was just a feeling, but—
‘I didn’t say I would be…’ He left the thought unfinished. ‘You said in your message that you were with Henry when the stroke happened. Do you usually work weekends?’
‘It was a social outing.’ She still felt guilty that her boss had been rambling through the treasure trove of Melbourne’s retail side-streets with her when the stroke happened.
A pause. Then a rapped-out, ‘Doing what?’
‘Examining aged silk.’ She could have explained about her sister Bella’s fetish for clothing design, but she doubted this man would be interested. ‘Henry knows about stuff like that. I took him to look at a piece of fabric that I found in a back-street shop.’
When he didn’t speak, she paused on the stairs, her gaze locked straight ahead. ‘Do you have any more questions, or is the interrogation over?’
His silence lasted long enough that she gave in to curiosity and glanced over her shoulder. She had thought he might be holding his fire until they were face to face.
What she hadn’t expected was to discover his gaze roving over her with undiluted interest. Even now, it lingered on her butt. Before she could tell him to stop looking at her most hated, far-too-large-in-her-opinion feature, he looked up, raw awareness in his eyes.
Any distance she had managed since they met disintegrated instantly. Forget his accusations, she decided frantically. They could wait until later. ‘I think we should move right along to discussing how to manage the office while Henry is recovering!’
Surely that would be a safe topic. One that couldn’t distract her into a molten mass of awareness of him. She turned her head frontward so fast she almost gave herself whiplash, then prayed he was no longer watching The Barging of the Behemoth Bum as she hurried down the rest of the stairs and pushed desperately at the exit door.
Fresh air. Thank God. She welcomed the sharp bite of the wind against her cheeks as she tried to reason out her reactions to him. ‘Well? Don’t you have anything to say about how we should tackle things in Henry’s absence?’
‘I have rather a lot to say about the way we should tackle things, actually.’ His growled words brought her no comfort. The look in his eyes hinted that he wasn’t thinking simply of the working relationship they would have to endure.
She stepped aside as a harried-looking woman passed them to enter the building. ‘Good. About work, then.’
So what if that hadn’t been all he meant? ‘There are always crises at the company. We’ll need to keep Henry informed, or he’ll worry, but we’ll make sure he understands that we’re coping.’
After a pause, Nate nodded. ‘There are things you don’t understand, but, for now, one last question.’
‘What is it?’
He leaned forward to touch a corkscrew curl that had escaped from her clump of braids.
Where was her ongoing antagonism toward him now? Her feet were frozen to the spot. She wanted very much to know what it would be like if he closed the distance between them and…Her breath hitched as he wrapped the curl around his fingertip, then let it spring free.
‘Your glasses are fogging up,’ he observed. ‘Maybe you should take them off.’
The glasses were her shield. ‘Oh, but my eyes—’
‘Are a very lovely shade of grey. I can’t help but wonder why you hide them.’
What big eyes you have, said the Wolf.
Wasn’t that supposed to be Red Riding Hood’s line?
‘Uh.’ They stood almost nose to nose. Nate’s large body shielded her from the worst of the wind, and she liked the feeling that engendered. Liked his closeness and the size and strength of him.
Good grief. I don’t want the Wolf to kiss me, do I?
Of course she didn’t.
Of course I do!
Nate leaned even closer. ‘Uh?’
She tried to clear her head, but couldn’t. Could only look at him now that the mistiness had left her glasses. ‘Was that your question? To ask me to take my glasses off so you could see my—?’
‘Big grey eyes?’ He shifted the tiniest bit closer. Blurred the lines between shelter and dangerous promise a little more. That was the trouble with attractive, wolfish men. They could get a girl confused without even trying. ‘I guess that depends.’
‘Depends on what?’ Despite all her reservations, despite resentment and suspicion and not being willing to trust his motives for being here for Henry right now, she leaned forward.
She wanted to feel the scratchiness of his day-old beard beneath her fingertips. Wanted to run her hands through his hair, and gauge the muscles hidden beneath that dangerous suit he wore.
Why did she want these things? This was Nate Barrett. She shouldn’t want these things from him. All he had done was kiss her forehead, and the side of her mouth. She shouldn’t have let him do that much. How could it leave her aching for more?
‘I’ve always admired black,’ she murmured. She wanted to run her hands over his midnight shirt, then wrap them around the strong column of his tanned, luscious-looking neck, bring his head down to hers, and…
It didn’t help that he watched her with all the focused interest of one very predatorial male.
‘You like black?’ He raised an eyebrow. A black eyebrow. ‘That’s not my final question, by the way.’
‘I meant I like the colour black. For clothing.’ Did she even own any black clothes? ‘I thought I might buy myself a, uh, a bowler hat. In, um, black.’
A bowler hat? In black. Oh, groan. ‘You know. For fancy dress and stuff.’
His mouth twitched. She saw it. A little twitcheroonie, right there at the left-hand corner. Despite herself, she liked that twitch.
She straightened, stepped back. Distanced herself as best as she physically could, and hoped her reactions would follow. ‘We’re wasting time. We should get to the office.’
‘We’re not finished, but I’ll get us a taxi—’
‘I have my car.’ Good manners insisted