Billionaire, Boss...Bridegroom?. Kate Hardy
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again. Which gave her a double reason not to act on the desire flickering through her—even if he was the most gorgeous man she’d ever met.
He indicated the box of chocolates sitting on his desk. ‘Why?’
Hugh was clearly a man of few words when it came to work. Or maybe it was his Monday morning-itis. ‘Why the gift? Or why chocolates?’ she asked.
‘Both.’
‘The gift is to say thank you, because you went way beyond the call of duty on Friday night. They’re chocolates, because I can hardly buy a man flowers,’ she said. ‘Did I give you enough money to cover everything, or do I still owe you?’
He handed her the envelope, which felt thick enough to contain most—if not all—of the money she’d enclosed with the card. ‘My shoes survived, and the taxi and dry-cleaning bill weren’t much,’ he said.
She knew that wasn’t true. The taxi firm would’ve charged him for valeting the cab and for lost earnings while the cab was out of action, being cleaned. ‘I’d rather you kept it,’ she said, putting the envelope back on his desk. ‘To cover the inconvenience.’
‘No need,’ he said firmly. ‘Is your sister OK? She looked terrible.’
Bella was grateful he hadn’t mentioned the ‘incident’. ‘Grace barely even drinks, normally,’ she said, not wanting him to think badly of her sister. ‘Friday was totally out of character for her. She’s the sensible and together one who sorts everything out; I’m the flaky and unreli—’ She stopped mid-word, realising what she was about to blurt out. ‘Not when it comes to my job, obviously. I’m very together where my work is concerned,’ she added swiftly.
‘But in your personal life you’re flaky and unreliable?’ he asked.
‘Not unreliable, even—just the one who opens her mouth without thinking things through,’ she said ruefully. ‘As you’ve just heard.’
‘But you rescued your sister when she needed your help,’ he said softly. ‘That definitely counts in your favour. Is she OK?’
‘She will be,’ Bella said. ‘I’ve never known her to drink three glasses of champagne in a row, let alone on an empty stomach. I think that’s why... Well. What happened, happened,’ she finished, squirming slightly.
‘Thank you for the chocolates. They’re appreciated,’ he said. ‘And you have good taste.’
‘I have good taste in a lot of things.’ And then, when she saw the momentary flicker in those amazing blue eyes, she wished the words unsaid. ‘I wasn’t flirting with you,’ she added quickly.
His expression said, much. ‘Take the money,’ he said. ‘I don’t need it. Use it to take your sister out to dinner or something.’
‘Just no champagne, right?’
This time, he smiled. ‘Right. Welcome to Insurgo, Ms Faraday.’
‘Thank you, Mr Moncrieff.’ Formality was good. It put distance between them. And it would stop her getting crazy ideas about a man with a mouth that promised sin and eyes that promised pleasure. Ideas she most definitely couldn’t let herself act upon.
‘Are you settling in all right?’ he asked.
‘Yes. Tarquin’s given me my first brief and I’m working on it now. The limited edition single.’ She paused. ‘He said it was coloured vinyl. I have to admit, I don’t know that much about how records are physically made. Can the vinyl be any colour you like?’
‘Yes.’
‘So you could do clear vinyl with little wisps of mist running through it?’
He looked surprised. ‘Yes. Would that tie in with your design?’
‘It’s what the music makes me think of. Obviously it’s just an idea at this stage,’ she said swiftly, not wanting to put him off. ‘I’ll do some rough mock-ups of three or four ideas, and then I’m discussing them with Tarquin this afternoon.’
‘Good. I look forward to seeing what you come up with.’
She blinked, surprised. ‘You’re going to be in the meeting as well?’
‘Not that one,’ he said. ‘But when you and Tarquin have agreed which one to work on, then you come and convince me.’
‘Challenge accepted.’ The words were out before she could stop them. Oh, for pity’s sake. This wasn’t about a challenge. This was about...about...
Why had her brain suddenly turned to soup?
He smiled, then, and it felt as if the room had lit up. Which was even more worrying. She didn’t want to start feeling like this about anyone, especially not her new boss.
‘I think I’m going to enjoy working with you, Bella Faraday.’
There was a faint trace of huskiness in his voice that sent a thrill right through her. This was bad. She could actually imagine him saying other things to her in that gorgeous voice. Things that would turn her into a complete puddle of hormones.
No.
This was work. She was really going to have to keep reminding herself that her relationship with Hugh Moncrieff was strictly business. Maybe she’d ask her friend Nalini to put a temporary henna tattoo on her hand saying ‘work’—written in Hindi script, so Bella would know exactly what it meant but anyone else would think it was just a pretty design. The last thing she needed was for anyone to guess how attracted she was to her new boss.
‘Good,’ she said. ‘I’ll get back to it, then.’ She gave him what she hoped was a cool, capable smile, and forced herself to walk coolly and calmly out of his office. One foot in front of the other. One step at a time. She could run once that door was closed behind her.
She’d just reached the doorway when he said softly, ‘Bella. I think you’ve forgotten something.’
Oh, help. She had to suppress the surge of lust. ‘What’s that?’ Oh, great. And her voice would have to be squeaky. She took a deep breath and turned to face him.
He waved the envelope at her.
‘Keep it.’
He coughed. ‘As your boss, I’m pulling rank.’
If she was stubborn over this, she could lose her job.
If she took the money back, she’d be in his debt.
Caught between a rock and a hard place. Or maybe there was a way out. ‘Then I’ll donate it to charity,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you can suggest a suitable one.’
‘Bella, this isn’t a war,’ he said softly, and she felt horrible.
‘Sorry. It’s just... I don’t want to be in your debt. And I don’t mean just you—I mean in anyone’s debt,’ she clarified.
‘The dry-cleaning bill wasn’t much, and the taxi firm is one I use a lot so they were pretty accommodating. And,’ he added, ‘I’m not exactly a church mouse.’
‘Church mouse?’ she asked, not following. Then she remembered the proverbial phrase. ‘Oh. Of course.’
‘Take the money,’ he said softly, ‘and it’s all forgotten. As far as I’m concerned—and everyone else at Insurgo, for that matter—today’s the first day we’ve met. And I’m notorious in the office for not being a Monday morning person. Nobody usually talks to me until lunchtime on Mondays because I’m so horrible.’
That made her feel better. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and took the envelope.
‘Have a nice day,’ he said, and that smile made her feel warm all over.
‘You, too,’ she said. But this time she lost her cool and fled before she could drop herself in it any more.