Читать книгу Hired by Mr. Right - Nicola Marsh - Страница 9

SAM hated confusion. She preferred order, precision and being in control. However, as she joined Dylan for a late night supper in his study so they could continue working, she knew that her preferences had flown straight out the window following her meeting with his mother. Rather than berating her for lying and sacking her, as she’d expected, Liz Harmon had almost clapped her hands in glee as Sam regaled her with a truthful account of her life to date. In fact, the older woman had been only too pleased to keep Sam’s secret so she could continue in her farcical role as Dylan’s PA.

But why? Sam needed to know people’s motivations; it was the only way to stay one step ahead. However, she had no intention of giving Liz Harmon the third degree when the woman had done her a huge favour. In fact, for someone who barely knew her, Liz had accepted her version of events with few qualms. In her place, Sam knew she wouldn’t have been as trusting.

‘Daydreaming again?’

Sam jumped as Dylan strode into the room and wondered if she’d ever get over the fluttery feeling in her gut whenever her boss came within ten feet of her. In over a week, her absurd physical reaction to the man hadn’t dimmed one iota. If anything, her responses made her want to do all sorts of wild and wicked things, such as strip off and lay across his desk! Maybe then she’d have some hope of grabbing his attention, for that was all he seemed interested in—the endless stream of paperwork crossing his desk, taking up every minute of his day.

She must have imagined his flirtation and innuendo on her first day, for he’d lived up to his reputation as a cold, calculating business tycoon ever since. In fact, his love for the family business bordered on obsession and she wondered if he ever loosened his tie, took off his shoes and took a stroll barefoot in the lush gardens surrounding the mansion. By the serious look on his face as he glared at her, she doubted it.

‘Daydreaming is healthy. You should try it some time.’ She noted the tense neck muscles, the lines around his mouth, the smidgen of dark rings under his eyes and hoped that her banter might lighten his mood.

He piled a plate with club sandwiches and grabbed a caffeine-laden soft drink from the sideboard before responding. ‘Who says I don’t?’

‘You don’t look like the type to indulge in fanciful dreams.’ Heck, he couldn’t look any more uptight if he tried. He wore a different suit, shirt and tie for every day of the week, each outfit expertly tailored but boringly conservative and she’d yet to see him with a hair out of place. Except that first morning in his bedroom—though she’d managed to effectively block out that provocative memory.

He quirked an eyebrow. ‘Daydreams are wasted. Maybe I prefer to indulge in fanciful dreams at night?’

Sam looked up quickly, wondering if she’d imagined his lowered tone, the slight husky edge. He stared at her, dark eyes unreadable, as he took a casual bite out of a tuna and mayonnaise sandwich. She swallowed, trying to ignore the sudden wish that she could replace the sandwich as his supper. She wouldn’t mind him nibbling on her, not one little bit.

Spurred on by the urge to match wits with him, she took a sip of her coffee and feigned innocence. ‘What you do at night is no concern of mine.’

‘Would you like it to be?’

Damn, he was good. Just when she thought she’d got the better of him, he sent her a loaded comeback like that.

Resisting the urge to grin, she said, ‘Depends. I thought I’d worked enough nights lately. There’s only so much typing, filing and bookkeeping a girl can take.’

‘I wasn’t talking about work.’

‘Oh?’ Her heart hammered in her chest as she tried to hide behind her coffee mug. She loved playing games, especially with a man as sharp as Dylan and she wondered how far she could push it, though every ounce of common sense urged her not to match wits with her boss.

‘You’ve been doing a great job, Samantha. I’m pleased with your work and you’ve hardly had a night off since you started. How would you like a tour of Melbourne by night?’ He devoured the last of the sandwiches, concentrating on his plate as if her answer meant nothing to him. However, she noticed he ran a finger around the inside of his tight collar, a gesture she’d noted only when he seemed rattled.

She smiled, her heart threatening to burst out of her chest. ‘Sounds great. Know any good tour operators?’

He looked up and fixed her with a piercing stare, the chocolate depths of his eyes drawing her in, deeper than she’d ever been or intended to go. She could drown in those eyes, spend a lifetime floundering in their mysterious warmth.

‘Why settle for good when you can have the best?’

‘You’re that confident, huh?’

‘You’ll just have to try me and find out.’ He smiled, that killer smile she’d rarely glimpsed since the first day, yet her response had intensified tenfold.

She knew accepting his invitation wasn’t a good idea. It sounded suspiciously like a date and she had no intention of getting involved with her boss. As if her life wasn’t complicated enough. However, she did want to see Melbourne and what better way than a personal tour with a man who set her pulse racing? If the scenery bored her, she could always cast surreptitious glances his way.

‘Okay. I’d like that.’ Who was she trying to kid? She almost had to sit on her hands to prevent herself from clapping like an excited child.

‘Good. I’ll make the arrangements and let you know.’ He stared at her for a moment and, from the intense look in his eyes, she thought he might say something else. However, he merely cleared his throat and picked up a stack of contracts. ‘Let’s get back to these. Now, where were we?’