The Boss's Bedroom Agenda. Nicola Marsh
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the museum as fast as her three-inch stilettos could carry her.
With the correct footwear, a girl could face anything and right then Beth knew her day was looking up.
Those shoes are something else, Aidan Voss thought as he caught sight of the new tour guide sashaying across the polished marble floor towards him, her nose in the air and a small smile playing about her glossed lips.
She looked as if she didn’t have a care in the world rather than a woman who was five minutes late her first day on the job.
‘Miss Walker?’
‘Yes?’
If her shoes were something else, her dazzling green eyes captured his attention and shot it into the stratosphere. They sparkled with intelligence, and even a hint of wariness couldn’t hide the glint of fun in their rich moss-green depths.
‘You’re late,’ he said, his gaze roaming over her heart- shaped face with the high cheekbones, pert nose and lush mouth a tad on the full side.
Her features should’ve clashed. Instead, they melded into a heart-stopping combination and, for a guy who appreciated beautiful things on a daily basis and had since he could first walk and talk, he couldn’t tear his gaze away.
‘And you are?’
Surprised by her assured comeback when she should’ve been on the back foot, and more than a little annoyed at his urge to laugh, he said, ‘Someone who could have your butt for waltzing in here late on your first day.’
If her confidence surprised him, her glossed lips curving into a saucy smile shocked the hell out of him.
‘You could have my butt, huh? Sounds like an interesting way to foster employee relations.’
His mouth twitched despite the urge to send her packing before she’d begun.
From scanning her CV he’d expected an eager-to-learn, deferent trainee. Instead, with her sun-streaked blonde hair perched high on her head in a jaunty pony-tail, a figure- hugging pinstripe suit outlining a compact, curvaceous body and a pale pink shirt that reminded him of freshly spun candy floss, this woman screamed ‘sex kitten’ rather than tour guide.
Sex kitten? Where had that come from?
Dropping his gaze to her feet and those funky shoes, he knew exactly what had put the idea into his head.
He was a leg man through and through, and the sight of her curvy stockingless calves and dainty feet thrust into shoes that definitely didn’t belong to a conservative tour guide had his head in a spin.
He chose to ignore her sassy remark, considering his obsession with her legs didn’t need the added burden of thinking about her butt too.
‘I’m not an employer.’
He sent her his best glower, the one that made most workers jump to his tune on various digs around the world.
Her eyes lit up, sparking green fire as she tilted her chin up. ‘In that case, you have no right telling me off. So if you don’t mind—’
‘I’m your employer.’
He expected to see fear or the glimmer of an apology replacing the glint in her eyes.
Once again, she proved him wrong.
‘Pleased to meet you. Beth Walker, tour guide extraordinaire at your service.’
She stuck out her hand, a wide grin curving her lips and he found himself unwittingly returning her smile while he shook her hand.
‘Aidan Voss, the new boss around here.’
A boss who had no right noticing how her eyes twinkled when she smiled or the cheeky lilt in her voice when she spoke, as if challenging him to do goodness knew what.
‘Do you personally greet all your employees?’
‘Only the ones who are late on their first day.’ He tapped his watch face. ‘I must say your lack of punctuality surprises me, Miss Walker.’
‘Call me Beth.’ She dropped her gaze, but not before he’d seen a flicker of fear, the first sign she was anything other than confident. ‘And I’m really sorry for being late. I was running on time until I had a shoe crisis.’
Once again, his lips gave a decided twitch and he clamped down his urge to laugh out loud.
‘Speaking of your shoes, do you think they’re appropriate for your role here?’
She gripped her bag tighter, her knuckles standing out, as he glimpsed another sign Beth ‘Fancy Feet’ Walker might be more rattled than she let on.
‘Shoes this good are always appropriate…’ She trailed off as he frowned at her and her fingers flexed around the strap of her leather carry-all again. ‘Considering I broke a heel on my pumps in the tram tracks out front a few minutes ago, I had no choice. It’s my Manolos or go without and I’d hazard a guess you wouldn’t go for the bare look?’
Finding his gaze drawn unwittingly to those sexy shoes again, he wrenched it upward with effort, determinedly ignoring how great she’d probably look padding around these hallowed halls barefoot.
Clearing his throat, he said, ‘Just make sure you wear something more appropriate tomorrow.’
Her lips curved in a tentative smile. ‘So that means I’m not in too much trouble for being five minutes late?’
‘Don’t push your luck,’ he muttered, intrigued by the contrasting combination of confident woman one moment, vulnerable new employee the next.
Even now, while her fidgeting fingers toying with her bag strap belied her nerves, she met his gaze without the slightest hint of intimidation.
He’d never met anyone like her, most of the people he worked with deferring to his experience or in awe of his connections in the archaeological world.
As a new employee, she would know about his family and their role in the museum yet she acted as if he were an acquaintance. Or, worse, as if he were a guy she could flirt with.
‘If there’s nothing else, I’ll get started?’
Nodding, he tried another frown for good measure. It had little effect as a sunny smile banished the last hint of any susceptibility and transformed her into cheeky ingénue in a heartbeat.
‘Fine. I take it you had your tour following the interview?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Then you can start in the Australia Gallery today. It should be quiet in there as we’re not expecting many school groups and Mondays are notoriously flat around here anyway. Any questions?’
‘No, thanks. I’m ready and raring to go.’
He blinked, struck by how every word tumbling out of her lush mouth sounded like a naughty invitation.
Annoyed at his wayward thoughts, especially in relation to an employee, and hating how she’d had him on the back foot since he’d first laid eyes on her, he injected the right amount of coolness into his voice. ‘That’s all for now. Good luck.’
Her confident smile didn’t waver. ‘Thanks, but I don’t need it. I’m good at what I do.’
With that, she turned on those ridiculous three-inch heels and strutted away—in the wrong direction.
‘Beth, the Australia Gallery is that way.’
She stiffened and paused mid-step, swinging back to face him, and he pointed over his right shoulder.
Something akin to panic flickered in her eyes for a second, though it could’ve been a trick of the light as the bright sun’s rays of a Melbourne spring morning filtered through the towering glass comprising the museum’s shell.
‘I