The Boss's Unconventional Assistant. Jennie Adams
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got to his feet, swung to face her, wincing as he did so, and the movement put pressure on his ankle. He cradled his arm against his body.
Irritated green sparks shot at her from his eyes.
‘Don’t bother to say anything.’ She held up her hand. ‘You left me no other choice.’
Had the man heard of backing off a little, rather than needing to be right in the thick of everything that happened in his working world? Yes, he appeared to have a project in trouble, but what about all the reports that things were going perfectly well in other departments? Did he really need to be so hands-on and go into such detail with all of that?
Soph poked a finger into the air in front of him. ‘Your ankle is causing you pain. For the last two hours you’ve favoured your arm. I suspect it should be in a sling, but would you answer me when I asked about either of those things earlier? No. I got the death glare while you continued to speak into Bear Growling.’
‘Bear Growling?’ He stepped closer until they were almost nose to nose.
The intensity in his gaze made her catch her breath. ‘I…uh…it’s how I think of your voice program.’
Because he had a gorgeous growly voice that she would like to listen to, snuggled at his side…
No. She wanted no such thing.
Irritation crept through his tone even now. ‘It’s not my fault the voice program doesn’t work properly. I trained it at the start, exactly as instructed.’
‘Yes, but did you snarl at the time, because if you didn’t, it wouldn’t recognise snarl-speak now, would it?’ Soph said absently, still caught in the thought of having him growl just for her. When she realised what she had said and glanced at his face, she almost laughed at the look of surprise there.
‘You—’ he took her upper arm into his free hand as he stared with aggravation and something else that wasn’t aggravation at all, right into her eyes ‘—are a very odd kind of personal assistant.’
She could have taken offence but she didn’t. Maybe because his fingers held her arm in a gentle clasp and stroked lightly. The bear might not want to admit it, but Soph thought he found her at least a little intriguing.
His eyes widened and he stepped abruptly away from her. Soph backed towards the door. She had to put distance between them before the Gremlin of Temptation struck and she said something terribly inappropriate. Like, Grey, I really notice you as a man even though I’ve decided it’s not a good idea to do so, and it’s clear you’re appalled that you’ve noticed me.
Instead, Soph went for the most prosaic words she could come up with. ‘Will you come into the kitchen? I’ll tape a bag over your cast so it doesn’t get damaged if you accidentally splash it while you’re bathing.’ She blocked her mind to all thoughts of her employer in the bathtub!
‘I’ll cope without a bag on the arm.’ He just said so instantly, unequivocally, and turned away.
Soph didn’t feel the least disappointed in this further example of his resistance to her care. The attraction side of it was irrelevant, of course. Hmph. But what could she do if he wouldn’t accept her help?
‘I’ll get on with dinner, then. I still have a side dish to prepare to go with the curry.’ She turned her back, busied herself in the kitchen and didn’t look around again until she heard water running upstairs. At least she had the healthy food aspect well in hand.
Soph donned protective mitts and drew the casserole out of the oven, removed the lid, then discarded the mitts and gave the contents of the dish a vigorous stir.
She and her employer just had some random chemical reaction going on between them. No doubt it would go away through lack of a receptive audience. On either side!
CHAPTER THREE
‘OH, GOOD, you’re ready for me. It seems I’ve timed it exactly right.’ Soph pushed the door to her employer’s bedroom wider and stepped through the aperture. They’d eaten their dinner. Afterwards Soph had suggested they watch some television together and had received a blank look followed by a resistant one before Grey had said he had business phone calls to make, excused himself and disappeared into the office.
At least he’d seemed to somewhat enjoy chatting with her over the meal. Not that Soph had needed him to enjoy her company. Nor had she been overly conscious of her boss in the short time they’d spent together. She had worked on her silly, earlier inappropriate awareness of Grey and had that all under control now.
‘Let me put this tray down and I’ll help you get settled in the bed.’
The tray held a ceramic incense burner complete with stand, candle holder and tiny teapot on top, matches and a drinking mug full of steaming liquid. In a trice she placed the tray on to the dresser and turned to face her boss.
Nurse Sophia to the rescue.
Her employer hovered, features frozen, near his bed. He wore green silk pyjama trousers and, well, nothing else actually, which meant Soph had a rather amazing view of his broad shoulders, his chest, the smattering of hair that tapered towards his navel…
‘Ah, it’s warm in here, isn’t it?’ Soph snapped her gaze upward, away from silk, away from his chest, though meeting his gaze wasn’t particularly better. Did he have to look so sensual to go along with his air of fierce affront?
‘I can’t say I’d noticed any particular warmth,’ he snarled, but he also examined her from her hair—piled in a loose, messy knot on top of her head—to her face, her mouth and finally over her body and back up again. His muscles tensed.
Soph wanted to touch him.
No. Soph did not want to touch him.
‘Um, well, you probably put out a lot of body heat.’ She waved vaguely towards him. ‘Hence no need for a shirt to wear to bed.’
A shirt she truly had expected to see on him when she barged in to settle him down for the night. Nurse Sophia, indeed. If she got much hotter from looking at him, she would become a medical emergency.
Temperature far too hot, Doctor. What should we do?
‘Why are you here?’ Grey’s eyes flared for just a moment before he snapped his gaze away from her. When he turned back, the irritation had returned in full force. His eyebrows drew down and a muscle twitched at the base of his jaw. ‘I told you when I stepped out of the office that I planned to retire for the night.’
‘Yes, so I came to help.’ She’d been finished with the telly anyway. Soph tried not to look back at his chest, but it was so…there. And he had looked at her with interest before he’d locked the reaction down.
In the same way Soph needed to reject it. That was the thing. She couldn’t afford to desire her boss, and he clearly didn’t want to desire her.
‘I’m here to work,’ she blurted. ‘I mean, I’m here to work in your room, to put you to bed. I took a shower, gave you time to do whatever it is you might have needed to do, and then came to help you get settled. That’s why I’m in my nightwear. It seemed silly to dress again.’
It didn’t seem silly now, but it was too late. She reached for the incense burner and matches, clutching them tightly because he just might see her hands shaking if she didn’t.
He sent an incredulous stare her way. ‘You came to help me get settled, in my room, without even knocking first.’ He waved his hand towards her. ‘Wearing…a hibiscus caftan and bare feet and who knows what underneath? Did it occur to you I might be buck naked in here?’
Grey Barlow.
Naked.
In this bedroom with the great big bed.
I am not seeing those things in my head…
Anyway, the caftan