Читать книгу Sex, Lies and Her Impossible Boss - Jennifer Rae - Страница 10

TWO

When he walked up to her desk, Faith was packing her coffee mug into a brown box. He recognised the mug. It was covered in red kisses and was usually full of black tea. He wondered why she bothered to make it as she always had to tip it out when it went cold.

‘What are you doing, Faith?’

‘What does it look like I’m doing? I’m packing.’

He decided to bite. Faith had a tendency to make him do that. She never agreed with him. She fought him on everything. It should irritate him, but it didn’t. Out of all the new employees he’d met in the last month it was Faith who interested him the most. She was smart and she told it as it was. And she never sucked up to him.

‘Why?’

‘Because I’m leaving. You obviously don’t want me here. You don’t get what I’m trying to do so I’m going to go somewhere where I’m understood. Where I’m appreciated.’ Her eyes were glassy. She was emotional. Faith was the type of woman who wore her emotions like a pair of very high heels. She teetered around on them. Fell over them. They got in the way. Which was one of the reasons he was canning her segment. She’d lost her edge. She’d become too invested.

‘I appreciate you, Faith.’

‘No, you don’t. You think what I do is pointless and stupid. Which is why you want to replace me with sport.’

His eyes flicked to her shirt. She’d found a pin or something to do it back up but he could still see the curve of her breasts. He remembered those bows and swallowed hard, bringing his eyes back up to hers. She suited her segment. Sexy Sydney. But she’d suit something else. Maybe the weather.

‘I don’t want you to leave, Faith. I’ll find you something else. You’re a good reporter.’

‘What? Are you going to find me a position as the weather girl? Make me dye my hair blond and giggle as I point to a high westerly blowing right up my skirt?’

Cash resisted the urge to laugh. Faith was funny. And quick and clever and he wondered why the hell she didn’t want to move on. Why she was so determined to stick to the sex show that just wasn’t working.

He’d been trying to get more advertisers to support the programme but they were hesitant. The content veered from quirky and amusing to deep and heavy from week to week. He wondered who was helping her produce the show—he needed to look into that. Maybe it was a production problem. The real problem, he suspected, was that, like him, audiences were just not that interested in nonsense like love and relationships and the various types of dildos. Everyone knew love didn’t really exist. Everyone except Faith, who thought it made a difference when couples perked up their sex life with handcuffs.

‘I’m sure we can find you something else. Something you’d rather be doing.’

‘What I want to do is this. My Sexy Sydney show. I’ve built up a following. People love my reports.’ She could talk as fast as a used-car salesmen, he’d give her that. She was engaging; she made you actually start to believe the drivel she was spouting. Her show was—at times—brilliant. But lately the content was getting too heavy. She’d actually cried on camera last week when interviewing some sex workers. Too emotional. Admittedly, she did seem to have a huge following if the comments on their Facebook page was anything to go by. Most people she came in contact with seemed to be under her spell. But he wasn’t most people.

‘It’s just sex, Faith.’

Her eyes burned into him. He hadn’t noticed before but they weren’t brown as he’d thought they were. They were very, very dark blue. An unusual colour that reminded him of the ocean out at the front of his apartment late at night. As the wind blew and the waves fell against the cliffs.

‘There’s no such thing as “just sex”, Cash. Sex always means more than just sex.’

Cash’s lip curled into a half-smile as he watched her determined face. Once upon a time he’d thought sex was more than just sex. When he was much younger. But now he knew better. Sex was just sex. His mind snapped back; he didn’t want to even think about what else sex could be.

‘No. Sex is sex. It’s a physical union between two people who find themselves horny and in the same place at the same time.’

Her lips opened to form an O. Pink, full lips. He sucked in his bottom lip and shifted. He liked to tease her. Her creamy white English skin always turned a delightful shade of pink when he teased her. But he hadn’t noticed how full her lips were before.

‘You really believe that, don’t you? You really think sex is just sex?’ Her eyes flashed.

‘Yes. I really believe that.’ He knew the truth. Love didn’t exist. Lust, mutual attraction—that was what he believed in. And lust had caused him absolutely no pain the last nine years so he was sticking with it. ‘It’s time you let it go, Faith. Find something else. Move on. You never know—you might find something you’re really good at. Current affairs maybe?’

‘I’m really good at sex!’ Her voice rang out at the precise moment everyone got off the phone and paused. Her eyes opened wide, and she turned a shade of beetroot, horrified, as a couple of the jokers who were supposed to be working laughed.

She turned away and bustled with her things. Heat rose in his face. She’d have to learn to toughen up if she wanted to work in this industry. He’d suffered rejection, ridicule and censure every day and if she was going to survive, she’d have to stop blushing and fumbling every time she got embarrassed.

He didn’t want her to give up. This station was riddled with idiots. That was why it was in trouble. That was why they’d called him back over here. Faith was one of the few he wanted to keep on. But she had to step up. He moved closer and decided it was time he made her step up. He didn’t want her to give up, so he did the only thing he could do: threw her right in the deep end and watched to see if she could swim.

When Cash leaned down, his mouth was perilously close to Faith’s earlobe. She breathed in. He smelled delicious. Heady, warm and sexy. When he finally spoke it came out deep and rough in the broad, abrasive accent he used when he was angry. ‘As your station manager, I insist you prove that statement to me.’ But he wasn’t angry. He was...something else.

Faith’s heart beat in her chest. Being this close was not something she was used to. And not just close to Cash. She actually didn’t get this close to men in general. As a rule. Which was probably why her heart was pounding and a bead of sweat formed on her forehead. He’d find out. If he dug too deep—he’d realise her secret.

‘That is sexual harassment, Mr Anderson.’

Cash stilled. His eyes flicked to hers. There was no smile present on his face any more. He moved back a little. She felt the coldness of his look as it swept over her face.

‘If I wanted to sexually harass you, Harris, I’d do it properly. On top of my desk. With you screaming my name.’

His eyes went hard, which was helping to slow down Faith’s rapid heartbeat. He was still too close. Way too close and she needed him to step back. And now he was suggesting doing something she hadn’t done in so long. With anyone—let alone a tall, handsome, gruff man who was trying to get rid of her.

Everything in her body throbbed. This had gone too far. She had to leave. For no other reason than she was actually considering what it would feel like to have sex on the desk with Cash. Multiple times. Using every Kama Sutra position in the book. And possibly some that weren’t even in there. One after the other after the other after the other...

Faith mentally shook her head and pursed her lips together. She was a professional. She knew what this was—a man using his sexuality to get what he wanted. She’d read about that. She’d also read that those types of men wouldn’t take no for an answer. You had to show those types who was boss—apparently.

‘If you had any idea what I actually did every day, Cash, you’d realise that what I do is valuable.’ She lifted her chin and put on her poshest London accent, trying desperately not to broaden her vowels. ‘You’d realise how important my segment is to the Australian people and to this station.’

‘All right, then.’ He finally stepped back.

‘What?’ Confused, she tried to meet his eyes but he’d taken them off her and was now undoing the buttons at his wrists. He started rolling up his sleeves, revealing a set of thick tanned forearms. Lined with slightly bulging veins, she noticed absently before dragging her eyes off them and back to his.

‘Show me what you do. Show me how your work is relevant. Prove to me that sex is not just sex and I’ll keep your show on.’

‘Prove it to you?’

‘Yes. Show me Sexy Sydney. Teach me what you know. Convert me and you can stay on.’

Convert him? The man who thought sex was just sex? The man who—at last count—had been connected with over twenty high-profile women since he’d arrived back onto Australian shores four weeks ago? That was impossible. But it was her only chance to stay. So she grabbed it.

‘Fine. Be ready at six in the morning. I’ll pick you up.’

‘Great. Gives me time for my morning surf.’ He smiled and for once that smile didn’t make her feel like trusting him. This smile looked more like that of a great white shark. All interlocking white teeth, hungry for some flesh. The beating of war drums sounded deep in her gut. This battle would be to the death. The only way to keep her show and her dream alive was to win—and this time she’d have to go all the way.