Back In The Boss's Bed. Sharon Kendrick
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She felt so unsettled at seeing him, particularly seeing him sitting looking so arrogantly territorial, that she immediately went on the defensive. ‘It’s nine o’clock,’ she answered. ‘The time when most normal people start working.’
He put down his pen with a clatter. ‘These are not normal times, Kiloran,’ he returned. ‘I thought you realised that! And, besides, I’m always at my desk by seven-thirty.’
Well, bully for you, she thought. ‘How did you get here?’
‘I flew.’
‘Seriously?’
He gave a click of irritation. ‘Of course I didn’t—the nearest airfield is miles away. That was what was known as irony, Kiloran.’ Though he doubted whether she would know irony if it got up and performed a little dance for her. ‘I drove.’
‘This morning?’
‘Very early this morning.’
It must have been virtually daybreak when he had started out—because even when the roads were empty, the journey still took two hours from London. That would probably account for the smudges of faint blue shadows beneath those magnificent eyes. Or had he spent his weekend engaged in pursuits which would guarantee a lack of sleep? Probably, if the newspapers were to be believed.
She felt at a loss. ‘Would you like coffee?’ she asked.
Silently, Adam counted to ten. ‘No, Kiloran,’ he said steadily. ‘I would not like coffee. What I would like is for you to take the weight off those pretty feet and grab yourself a chair—’
‘You’re sitting in it,’ she said stonily, bristling at the ‘pretty feet’ bit. ‘This is my office, remember? My desk. And my chair.’
‘And have you sorted a room out for me?’
‘Not yet, no.’
He shook his head, as a teacher would to a child who had not presented their work on time. ‘You knew I was coming—you’ve had two days to organise something.’ He leaned back and studied her. ‘So why haven’t you?’
She couldn’t ever remember being spoken to in such a way—not even in her very first job, when she had been the most junior of juniors. ‘I’ll do it straight away!’
‘Not straight away, no. Here—’ He gestured towards the swivel chair beside him. ‘Come over here and sit down.’
She felt like Little Red Riding Hood being enticed by the big, bad wolf, but there was something so authoritative in his tone that she found herself doing exactly what he said.
‘There,’ he murmured, a glimmer of amusement sparking in the depths of the stormy eyes as she perched on the seat next to his, noting the awkward set of her shoulders and her frozen posture. She really didn’t like him one bit, did she? he observed wryly. ‘How’s that?’
It was awful. Or rather, it wasn’t. It was the opposite of awful. She could never remember being so aware of a man in her life. This close, she could catch traces of some subtle musky aftershave, which only drew her attention to the faint shadowing at his jaw. He must have shaved so early, she found herself thinking inconsequentially—and yet already the new growth was visible. The breath caught in her throat; she knew that it would be rude to look away from the grey eyes, and feared that if she did he would sense her discomfiture.
And realise the cause of it.
‘Perfect,’ she said lightly. ‘But only as a very temporary measure.’
Yeah. He wasn’t going to argue with her about that. This was more than a little too close for comfort, that was for sure. He tried to rationalise her appeal, just as he had been trying to rationalise it since the moment he had seen her again—telling himself that the woman he had spent Saturday evening with had been just as beautiful.
So what was it about Kiloran Lacey? What was so special about those green cat’s eyes and the shiny blonde hair? Was her appeal strengthened simply because she was off limits?
He let his eyes drift over her. The simple summer dress she wore dropped in a floaty little hem to her knees. Sweet knees, he found himself thinking reluctantly. Her bare arms were strong and toned and lightly tanned and he found himself wondering if she was an exercise fanatic. Probably, he decided. It wouldn’t surprise him if she had had her own high-tech gym installed somewhere in the bowels of this enormous house. An extravagance incurred at the expense of the company, no doubt, and his mouth flattened into a thin line of disapproval.
‘Right.’ With an effort he brought himself back to the subject in hand, drawing out a sheet of cream-coloured writing paper from the sheath of documents in front of him. ‘Let’s see what we have here.’
Kiloran took one brief glance at the distinctive, spidery handwriting and her heart sank.
‘Recognise this?’ he asked shortly.
She nodded. ‘It’s from my aunt Jacqueline.’
‘It certainly is. But she’s more than just your aunt, isn’t she, Kiloran?’ He saw her shift a little in her chair. ‘She just happens to be the second biggest shareholder of Lacey’s soaps and—’
‘And let me guess—she’s angry?’
‘Angry?’ Adam’s dark lashes shielded his eyes as he lowered his glance to scan over the letter. ‘To say that she is angry would be something of an understatement. And I have to say that I have some sympathy with her.’
Well, he would—wouldn’t he? ‘May I read it?’
‘You won’t like it.’
‘Oh, I’m tough enough to take Aunt Jacqueline’s…’ But her voice tailed off as she began to read. Angry wasn’t the word for it. The words seemed to sizzle off the page.
The letter didn’t pull any punches. And there was a particularly wounding paragraph.
I have no wish to apportion blame, Vaughn.
Of course you don’t, thought Kiloran wryly.
But nonetheless, someone must take responsibility for the theft. If Kiloran had had the courage to admit that she was out of her depth, then none of this might have happened and as a consequence, my financial security and that of my daughter might not now be threatened.
Kiloran read on.
I have been comforted by your news that Adam Black has been brought in and I must congratulate you on having hired a man of such formidable reputation.
Kiloran wondered fleetingly how Adam Black felt about having been described as ‘hired’.
In fact, I should take some comfort in a meeting with him at the earliest possible opportunity, and I would be pleased if you could arrange this for me.
She put the letter down. ‘Perhaps it would make everyone feel better if they just lined me up in the stocks and threw things at me—that’s what they used to do in days gone by, isn’t it?’
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