Australia: In Bed with the Boss. Emma Darcy
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bunny rug and whipped a clean nappy into place. “Just a matter of getting the plastic tabs the right way around,” he informed her.
Since Amy had never changed a nappy in her life, she was grateful Jake had acquired some expertise. It was quite fascinating, seeing the deft way he handled fastening the absorbent pad on the squirming little body.
“You could heat up his bottle for me.” Jake waved towards the capsule. “Ruth said to stick it in the microwave for thirty seconds.”
“Okay.”
Glad to be given something positive to do, Amy quickly found the bottle in the Disney bag and raced off to the kitchenette where she usually made morning or afternoon teas for clients. She wasn’t sure what temperature to set on the microwave, decided on medium, then watched the bottle revolve for the required time. A squirt of milk on her wrist assured her it wasn’t too hot, and she carried it back to Jake with a buoyant sense of achievement.
Joshua was reclothed and clinging like a limpet to his uncle’s shoulder as Jake patted his back. That makes two of us this morning, Amy thought ruefully. Guilt over her earlier refusal to have anything to do with the baby prompted her to offer full services now. Besides which, she didn’t want Jake holding anything against her. Power came in many guises, and Jake Carter was a master of all of them.
“I can take him into my office and feed him,” she said as ungrudgingly as she could.
“It’s my job,” Jake insisted, holding his hand out for the bottle.
She passed it over, frustrated by his righteous stance. Paying her back, she thought. Rubbing it in.
“You can read me the mail while I take care of Josh,” he added, granting her professional purpose. “I’ll dictate whatever needs to be answered or followed through and leave that to you.”
“Fine!” she agreed and darted into her office for her notebook, determined not to be faulted again. He already had too much ammunition against her…when he decided to use it.
The man was devilishly clever. She had never trusted him with personal information, suspecting he would somehow wield it to gain more power over her. All along, she had instinctively resisted his strong magnetism, perceiving it as a dangerous whirlpool that sucked people in. Especially women. Amy was in no doubt it paid to be wary around Jake Carter.
She deliberately adopted a business-like air as she seated herself in front of his desk, preparing to sort through the mail with him. However, despite her sensible resolution to take guard, she found the next half hour highly distracting to her concentration on the job.
Jake had settled back in his chair, feet up, totally relaxed as he cradled the baby in the crook of his arm and tilted the bottle as needed for the tiny sucking mouth. He looked so natural about it, as though well practised in the task. He even burped the baby halfway through its feed, propping it on his knee and firmly rubbing its back. Amy herself wouldn’t have had a clue how to do that, let alone knowing it should be done.
“Good boy!” Jake crooned as two loud burps emerged, then nestled the baby back in his arm to continue the feeding.
Amy was amazed. Maybe, however improbable it seemed, Jake Carter was a staunch family man when it came to his immediate family. Or maybe his self-assurance simply extended to anything he took on. It was all very confusing. She could have sworn she had her buccaneer boss taped to the last millimetre, but he was certainly adding several other shades to his character this morning. Unexpectedly nice shades.
When they’d dealt with the last letter, Amy felt reluctant to leave the oddly intimate little family scene. It was Jake who prompted her, raising a quizzical eyebrow at her silence.
“All finished?”
“Yes.”
“Anything I haven’t covered?”
“No.” She stood up, clutching the letters with her attached notes.
Jake smiled at her, a genuinely open smile, nothing tagged onto it. “Let me know if you run into any problems.”
“Okay.” She smiled back. Unreservedly.
It wasn’t until she was back in her own office with the door closed between them, that it occurred to Amy how much better she was feeling. The day was no longer so gloomy. Steve’s betrayal had gathered some distance, making it less overwhelming. She could function with some degree of confidence.
Had she nursed unfair prejudices against her boss?
Had loyalty to Steve pushed her into casting Jake Carter as some kind of devil’s advocate who could shake the foundations of a life she valued?
Only one certainty slid out of this musing.
She didn’t owe Steve loyalty anymore.
Nevertheless, she’d be courting real trouble if she ever forgot the reasons she’d named her boss Jake the rake!
Amy spent the next half hour diligently working through his instructions, her concentration so intensely focused, she didn’t hear the elevator open onto their floor. The knock on her office door startled her. She looked up to see a woman already entering, a tall, curvaceous redhead, exuding an air of confidence in her welcome.
Amy felt an instant stab of antagonism. Some of Jake’s women had a hide like a rhinoceros, swanning in as though they owned the place. This one was new. Same kind of sexy glamour puss he usually picked, though—long legs, big breasts, a face that belonged on the cover of Vogue, hair obviously styled by a master cutter, very short and chic, designer jeans that clung seductively, a clingy top that showed cleavage.
“Hi! I’m Ruth Powell, Jake’s sister.”
Amy was dumbfounded. There was no likeness at all. If she hadn’t been presented with Jake’s nephew this morning, she would have suspected a deception. Some women would use any ploy to get to the man they wanted. Though on closer scrutiny, and with the help of the identification, Amy did see one similarity in the tri-angular shape of the eyes. The colour, however, was deeper, Ruth’s more a sherry brown than yellow-gold.
She had paused beside the door, returning Amy’s scrutiny with avid interest. “You’re Amy Taylor?” she asked before Amy thought to give her own name.
“Yes,” she affirmed, wondering about the testing note in the other woman’s voice.
A grin of pure amusement flashed across Ruth’s face. “I see,” she said with satisfaction.
Perplexed, Amy asked, “See what?”
“Why you dominate so much of Jake’s conversation.”
“I do?” Amy was astonished.
“So much so that amongst the family we’ve christened you Wonderwoman,” Ruth answered dryly.
Amy flushed, suddenly self-conscious of how less flatteringly she had privately christened Jake.
“Actually, we weren’t sure if you were a firebreathing dragon who kept his machismo scorched, or a stern headmistress who made him toe your line. Now I’ll be able to tell everyone you’re Irish.”
“I’m not Irish,” Amy tripped out, feeling more flummoxed by the second.
“Definitely Black Irish.” Ruth started forward, gesturing her points as she made them. “You’ve got the hair, the eyes, and the spirit. You had me pinned like a butterfly for a minute there. Lots of power in those blue eyes.”
“I’m sorry if you thought me rude,” Amy rushed out, trying to get a handle on this strange encounter.
“Not at all. Call it a revelation. You must have Jake on toast.” She laughed, bubbling over with some wicked kind of sibling pleasure as she strolled over to Amy’s desk. “I love it. Serve him right.”
Amy mentally shook her head. It was an absurd comment— her having Jake on toast. He had enough women to sink