Hot Boss, Wicked Nights. Anne Oliver
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Kate…umm…’ Her eyes flicked to the large office they used as a staffroom behind them.
As Kate stowed her handbag beneath her desk a feeling of doom descended on her. ‘Don’t tell me. He’s here already.’
‘He said he tried contacting you…’
‘Oh, no…’ she groaned. ‘I slept through yesterday and I was running so late this morning I didn’t stop to check my messages.’ Kate’s blocked sinuses chose that moment to prickle. She barely caught the explosion with a tissue. Even the cold capsules she’d taken earlier hadn’t diffused the throbbing headache and her legs felt like lead. She mopped her nose. ‘He wasn’t due till tomorrow.’
‘I know.’ Deb shrugged. ‘He called everyone in for an early staff meeting. They’re all in there right now. I’m manning the desk—’
Kate tossed her tissue in the bin and grabbed another handful from her desk. ‘Excuse me? He called a staff meeting?’
He being the nephew Bryce only ever mentioned on a couple of occasions that Kate could recall. The globe-trotting adventurer, the man who’d not bothered to come to the funeral but was here now to seize his inheritance.
Deb nodded. ‘He seems to have everything under control.’
He had no right to have everything under control. Kate always managed Aussie Essential Travel in Bryce’s absence and he’d promised her full authority from next month. That was probably a moot point now. Still, she’d been managing just fine for the past three weeks. What would his nephew, who as far as she knew had never set foot inside this place, know about the travel business?
‘Are you okay, Kate?’
Kate shook her head, and winced. But she forced a smile. ‘I’m breathing…sort of…I’d better get in there.’
Calm down, she ordered herself. Be professional but assertive. Leave him in no doubt that you’re quite capable, thank you very much. She grabbed a notepad and pen from her desk.
Opening the door quietly, she stepped inside. The team was focused on the dark-suited man talking at the head of the table. His voice was deep and melodic. And authoritative.
She tensed, ready to defend her own authority.
His face was in profile, but he turned and stopped speaking as Kate entered and she was blasted by the full force of his gaze. Pinned in place by topaz eyes. His jaw might have tensed momentarily—or maybe not—she was too busy picking her own jaw off the floor.
Oh. No. Her Saturday night’s casual encounter was Bryce’s nephew? The man she detested by reputation? She felt a sudden tightness in her chest that had nothing to do with her cold. Surely it wasn’t possible.
Or Damon Gillespie just looked like that guy because he’d invaded her mind. The clean-shaven man in the suit that fitted his broad shoulders to perfection and looked as if it had cost a million bucks and the sombre silk tie couldn’t be that rugged jungle hero who’d kissed her senseless, made love to her against the wall… She felt that same heat rise up her neck now as the rest of her staff turned to look at her.
Hold it together. She took a deep steadying breath and nodded a silent greeting to them. Forget authority, forget assertive—all she wanted to do was slide into the nearest chair with as little fuss as possible and get herself under some sort of control.
On noodle legs, she moved towards the only available chair which, by some unfortunate coincidence, happened to be next to Damon Gillespie’s right hand. It was okay, she told herself; he wouldn’t recognise her.
To make it worse, he was waiting for her to sit before continuing with whatever it was he was saying, making her the centre of attention. ‘I’m interrupting, I’m sorry…’ she half whispered and immediately cursed herself for apologising to this man who represented everything she despised. He should be the one apologising.
‘Good morning, Miz…?’
She reached her destination and sank down, her notepad and pen sliding from her trembling fingers onto the table. His aftershave wafted beneath her nose. Expensive, spicy.
Familiar.
She clenched her hands together and dared to look straight into those eyes she was already too well acquainted with. She schooled her voice to chilly formality as she said, ‘Kate Fielding.’
‘Ah. Kate.’ He nodded, his eyes imprisoning hers for probably only a second or two but it felt agonisingly like minutes. ‘Damon Gillespie. You were incommunicado yesterday. An eventful Saturday night?’ His tone almost suggested he knew all about her Saturday night. Or was it just her perception?
Thank goodness he didn’t appear to expect an answer and moved right along in the same breath, informing them that he wanted to meet with each member of staff individually over the next couple of days. Kate noted the details on her pad, more for something to occupy her hands than anything else. But because her hands were shaking, she gave up and clenched them together on her lap.
Damon Gillespie tugged at his snowy white cuffs and spread his hands on the table. Large blunt, short-nailed fingers. Kate tried to look away but she couldn’t take her eyes off them. The memory taunted her. Those talented fingers exploring, finding all her pleasure points…
Her pulse throbbed slow and heavy and she bit down on her lower lip. Why was her body betraying her? It had no business feeling all molten and fluid in the middle of a staff meeting. Worse, it was responding to a man she didn’t want to like—didn’t like; loathed, in fact.
She jerked to attention at the mention of her name, knocking her pen to the floor with a resounding clatter in the silent room, and realised he was watching her expectantly, waiting for an answer. ‘Ah…I missed that.’
Damon knew she had. Good God, what were the odds of your one-night stand turning up at a staff meeting? She’d been a mess of nerves since she’d realised who he was and if he wasn’t mistaken the temperature in the room had dropped a few degrees.
Not the way she’d behaved the last time he’d seen her, he remembered. No, sir, she’d been more than willing and abundantly able. And hot. She couldn’t be sure he knew, however, because perhaps she thought she’d disguised herself adequately. She’d obviously not considered the tiny mole below the corner of her left eye. Or the fact that the veil was more transparent than she thought.
He retrieved the pen from the floor, noting the sexy ankles in her unflattering granny shoes as he did so, and set it on her pad. Her dark eyes collided with his as she mumbled a thank-you. ‘I asked if there’s anyone I need to thank personally for helping out with the funeral arrangements, flowers and donations and such. As you’d know now, Bryce and I had no other relatives.’
‘I was aware of that…’ Her gaze filled with what looked like pity and held his for a beat out of time. No need for tea and sympathy, he assured her silently with an equally resolute gaze.
Then her eyes cooled and skidded away as if she regretted the momentary lapse and she straightened, jotted something else on her notepad, her fingers wrapped so tightly around her pen he wondered that it didn’t break. Her voice took on that chilly note again as she said, ‘I have the details at home. And the book of attendees.’
There was an emphasis on that last word as if condemning him for not turning up to the funeral. He didn’t bother telling her the news of Bryce’s death hadn’t reached him until a few days ago. ‘Thanks, Kate. I’ll give you a call later.’ He sent a smile her way but she wasn’t giving him eye contact.
He turned, swept his gaze over the table as he smiled at each individual in turn and said, ‘Thank you, everyone. I think that’s it for now. As for Aussie Essential Travel, don’t worry. We’ll all muddle through this together.’
Hushed conversation ensued as staff members skirted the table. Kate pushed up too, but he laid a restraining hand over