NATASHA OAKLEY – At The Boss's Command: Taking on the Boss / The Millionaire Boss's Mistress / Accepting the Boss's Proposal (страница 8)

He leant back in his seat, considering her challenge. ‘And you’re against snobs?’

‘Isn’t everyone?’ she lilted, raising a finely arched eyebrow at him.

‘Well, not the snobs, obviously,’ he murmured, his gaze on her glistening peach lips, which were as mesmerising as the words coming from them. No one had challenged him on this level before. Because he was too rich to be a snob or too rich to be called one to his face?

She straightened the cutlery in front of her, her long fringe falling over her right eye. ‘Right. Snobs stick together.’

‘I’d say so.’ He clasped his glass tightly, the urge to smooth that lock of hair back from her face excruciatingly tempting.

‘You don’t sound so sure. Don’t you know a snob, maybe intimately?’

‘If you’re asking me if I’m a snob, then no, I’m not,’ he said as casually as he could, the buzz that she was interested enough to want to know filling his head, and other places.

‘Well, a snob would say that.’ She crossed her arms over her full breasts. ‘Where were you born, where did you grow up and where did you go to school?’

Case stared at the dazzling woman opposite. Blunt and forward, like he’d never experienced before. And he wanted to give her all the answers she needed, as honestly as he could, as long as she didn’t find out why he was really at WWW.

He took a sip of his drink and placed it down gently on the small round table between them. ‘Born to John and Marie Darrington in Melbourne. Was raised modestly in Toorak by said parents. Went to school first at Stott’s College then did a business degree at Melbourne University.’

He put up his hands. ‘All snob-suggested but, despite my parents’ success and standing, I was raised just like a regular kid.’

‘Really? And a regular kid is raised how?’

He offered her a smile. It was way too early to get into how much worth his peers and parents had put on money, possessions and connections as he had grown up, especially on how to keep the family ‘up there’ after his father’s new money had got them out of what they called middle class mediocrity. ‘How about you?’

‘About me?’

‘Yes.’ He leant forward, tipping his head, trying to catch her gaze from behind that lock of hair. ‘I’m interested in knowing all my staff’s background.’ And hers in particular.

She gave a shrug. ‘As I’ve already said, you could read my file.’

‘There’s a lot not in a file.’ He’d already looked, twice. ‘I’d like to hear it from you.’

‘Not much to tell. Born and raised in Sydney. Moved to Melbourne after university. My first job was here, and here I still am. I’ve been with WWW Designs for just over four years, working my way up, putting in the long hours, doing that extra bit to make an impression.’

Case nodded. She’d made an impression on him all right. ‘I did the same.’ He’d been determined to make his career on his own, refusing his father’s help, and putting in the hard work. ‘Long hours and that extra commitment is the trick.’

Tahlia cringed. Sure, there was a trick all right, in stealing other people’s promotions, and she was going to find out exactly what his was and shove it down his throat.

And he’d missed her point entirely. Gawd, a woman would have to put up with a lot being interested in this guy. ‘Your someone at home must be very patient with your hours,’ she bit out.

‘Yes, he is.’

‘He?’ She froze. Did he live with his father or a room-mate? He looked like a confirmed-bachelor-playboy in a penthouse apartment on the North Shore sort of guy, the sort that liked his own space to do all the entertaining he desired.

‘Yes. Couldn’t do without him. Fetches my paper, shoes, even finds my car keys when I mislay them,’ he said, his deep voice washing over her.

She had known it. A butler. He was a total snob then and the title was especially earned if his money and connections had got him her job promotion.

Andy arrived with their orders, slipping the plates in front of them, shooting her a wink.

‘Thank you,’ she said, straightening her plate in front of her, arranging the grilled chicken burger with salad for easy access of her right hand to maximise efficiency and minimize this lunch with the enemy.

‘Thank you,’ Case offered Andy, rotating his plate, glancing at Tahlia. ‘And he likes bones.’

‘Bones?’ Tahlia echoed. What?

Case grinned. ‘My dog, Edison. He’s a Border Collie… You’re in such a hurry to label me, aren’t you?’

A dog? Sheesh. She pushed back her fringe, tucking it behind her ear, feeling the annoying heat in her cheeks. ‘You can’t say you haven’t labelled me.’

‘That’s true,’ he said softly, his gaze coursing over her.

Her blood heated at the thought of what the label was… She didn’t want to know, or think about it. ‘I have goldfish myself. Low maintenance,’ she blurted. ‘I did think of getting a cat but then she would have eaten Bert and Ernie, the fish, and although they don’t fetch sticks, papers or shoes they do listen very patiently when I get home and need to—’

She pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth in an attempt to still it. Was she babbling?

‘Please, don’t stop.’

She lifted her burger and took a large bite, filling her mouth with food instead of a plethora of personal stuff that had no business in her mouth, let alone pouring out.

What was wrong with her?

He watched her.

She chewed, swallowed and sighed. Was it her horoscope messing with her again? ‘You’re a Leo, right?’

‘Sagittarian, I’m told. You?’

‘Puzzled at how you came to WWW Designs. I didn’t see you come in for an interview for the position and I see most people who come to the floor, not because I’m a busybody or anything, just that my view is of the lift—’

Case swallowed his mouthful. ‘I noticed.’

‘And?’

He shrugged as though it wasn’t important. ‘I was out-sourced. Head-hunted. Appropriated by Ms Wilson. I think you’re right, by the way. She does seem in need of a good—’

‘Mr Darrington…’ she rushed in ‘…you must have met Raquel previously, then, for her to get such a good impression of you to go and steal you from another firm—which one, by the way? One of our rivals?’

He smiled at her. ‘I met her…at a…party.’

She was getting nowhere. The man wasn’t giving much away at all! Tahlia leant close. ‘Are you the enemy?’

‘No.’ His mobile rang. ‘Sorry, but I have to get it.’ He pulled the small handset from his belt. ‘Yes… Hello, Simon, everything okay…? Oh…right.’ He glanced at Tahlia, then swung to one side of his chair, gazing at his shoes. ‘It’s not exactly a good time… Fine. I’ll try… Go ahead with that… No, not yet on that… I’ll get back to you regarding that… Okay… Yes… Look, I’ll talk to you later.’

He grinned sheepishly at her, putting the mobile phone down. ‘Where were we?’

Tahlia took another mouthful of her lunch, forcing the chicken down her tight throat. Whatever that had been about…she didn’t like it. ‘What was that? Were you picking horses?’

She mentally prayed. Let him be a gambler, let him be an alcoholic gambler, let him be an alcoholic reckless gambler. That would prove to Raquel what a terrible mistake she’d made.

He shook his head. ‘No.’

Tahlia stared at him. ‘So it would be—?’

He smiled at her, shrugging. ‘Companies.’

‘So Simon is your broker?’ she asked slowly, trying to match it to what she’d heard. It could have been, but something didn’t quite fit.

‘For someone professing not to be a busybody you ask a lot of questions.’

‘Self-preservation.’

‘Oh?’

She took a sip of her water. ‘I like to know what I’m getting into, in the office, with the new boss,’ she stumbled, the words sounding too…suggestive.

‘Oh?’ he murmured deeply.

She put her drink down, taking a breath. ‘And you haven’t told me one thing that supports the fact that you’re any way qualified for the job,’ she said in a rush. ‘Or that your personality would complement the working environment or that there’s anything about you that doesn’t scream silver-spoonfed life, apart from your dog.’ And that smile, and those eyes and that deep warm voice.

‘Lucky you weren’t the one hiring, then.’

She glared at the man opposite, but he was focused on his meal, carefully avoiding her gaze.

Tahlia finished her salad, forcing the food down on to a stomach busy doing somersaults at his every sapphire glance. This wasn’t the plan.

She wiped her hands on a serviette and arranged the cutlery carefully on her plate. She was getting nowhere. ‘Look, I represent the busybodies of the office and I demand some incredibly personal information that I can share with them that will ensure that you’re not only human but approachable, sensible and on-the-whole nice.’