Nicola Marsh – The Boss's Bedroom Agenda (страница 6)

‘Don’t you dare!’

Lana’s eyes widened in horror behind her tortoiseshell glasses and Beth chuckled.

‘Don’t worry, cuz. I have no intention of flirting with the boss.’

However, she had to resist the urge to squirm under her cousin’s speculative glance as she quickly pushed aside the thought she already had.

Beth ignored the wolf-whistle of a passer-by as she strolled down Lygon Street on her way to meet Bobby, her friend— and date for the evening.

Not that catching up for a drink with Bobby was a date exactly. In fact, the thought of seeing the lanky, red-headed drummer as anything other than friend material brought a smile to her face.

So she’d dressed up? No big deal. She’d needed to slip into her favourite black mini and shimmery aubergine top to feel halfway normal again after spending all day in a suit, stylish as it was.

As she passed her favourite gelateria and studiously avoided looking in the window to stop from drooling all over her top, her mobile rang and she scrambled in her bag, hoping Bobby wasn’t standing her up. She was really looking forward to a drink, some light-hearted conversation and the inevitable laughs that spending an evening with a good mate entailed.

It had been way too long since she’d had a good night out; she, the party girl of Melbourne, had spent too many evenings lately holed up in Lana’s place, swotting up on the museum. Bor-ing. Time to live a little, just as she used to.

Staring at the caller ID and not recognising the number, she hit the answer button. ‘Beth Walker.’

‘Hello, Beth. Aidan Voss here.’

She stumbled and would’ve sprawled onto the nearest café table if a kind waiter, with the deepest chocolate-brown eyes she’d ever seen, hadn’t reached out to steady her.

Mouthing ‘thanks’ at the waiter, whose wink had her beaming back at him, she continued walking while furiously trying to think up something fabulously witty to say, anything other than, ‘What do you want?’

‘Sorry to ring you after hours but I need to see you.’

Great, he needed to see her. Some first impression she must’ve made.

Unbidden, the memory of the way he’d looked at her that morning sprung to mind and she wondered if the sizzle of something between them wasn’t just a figment of her imagination.

‘I can come in early first thing tomorrow,’ she said, banishing her ludicrous thoughts and trying to keep her tone businesslike.

‘I need to see you now.’

‘Oh.’

Damn, that one tiny syllable came out on a sigh and she quickly reassembled her wits.

‘Sorry, no can do. I have other plans.’

‘This isn’t a request, it’s an order.’

His silky-smooth voice did little to disguise the thread of steel beneath. Here was a guy used to making people jump, people who probably asked how high.

‘I’m meeting someone,’ she blurted, gnawing at her bottom lip the instant the words left her mouth, realising how stupid it sounded as an excuse. As if high and mighty Aidan Voss would care if she had a date or not.

‘Far be it from me to disrupt your love life, but this is important and it can’t wait till morning.’

‘Bobby’s just an old friend,’ she said, refraining from slapping her head, just, as another corker popped out of her mouth without her thinking.

Damn it, what was it about this guy that rattled her so much? She usually handled guys with finesse, flirting with them while keeping them at arm’s length, using quips and witty repartee rather than blurting the first thing that came into her head.

‘I’m glad.’

He paused and for one insane second she hoped he might be glad she wasn’t on a real date—before realising why the heck would he care? She was just an employee, a lousy one at that if his unimpressed tone and his order to see her immediately was any indication.

‘That means you can take a rain check and Bobby won’t be disappointed. I’ll meet you in the museum foyer in an hour.’

Cupping her hand over the phone, Beth sighed. She was so tempted to tell him where to get off, but the bank needed proof of a reputable job before considering her application for a loan to secure the gallery’s five-year lease, so she had no option but to do what he wanted.

Removing her hand, she said, ‘Fine. I’ll be there. Though the least you can do is tell me what this is all about.’

‘That episode with the train display today? The child’s mother has lodged an incident report and we need to discuss it.’

Incident report? Great, just great. As a first day on the job this one sucked, big time.

Clamping down on the flicker of fear that this pending meeting couldn’t be good for her job security, she mustered her best contrite tone. ‘No problems. See you in an hour.’

‘One other thing.’

‘What is it?’

‘Don’t be late.’

He hung up before she could respond and with a resigned sigh she snapped the phone shut and flung it into her bag.

If it weren’t for Lana and her dream gallery at stake, she would walk away from this less-than-appealing situation and never look back.

She wasn’t a tour guide, she was an artist, and having to follow someone else’s rules didn’t sit well with her. She was used to creative freedom, to being her own boss, not jumping to someone else’s tune.

As she passed a bright, airy shopfront filled with exquisite paintings and sculptures she sucked in a deep breath and squared her shoulders.

She wanted that.

Her very own space filled with her work, with the autonomy to do what she wanted when she wanted. Recognition for her talents, recognition of any sort if she were completely honest with herself, something she’d craved from her dad and never got considering he’d spent the bulk of her childhood traipsing around the countryside.

Casting one last longing glance at the mini-gallery, she tucked her bag tighter and picked up the pace.

She could do this.

She had a job to do and she’d better do it well.

Achieving her dream depended on it.

Aidan paced the empty entrance hall of the museum and wondered what the hell he was doing.

He’d had a very bad day, starting with a pile of boring financial reports and ending in a complaint from an irate mother.

Though officially his day hadn’t been all bad and it hadn’t exactly started off with those reports considering he’d laid down the law to the new tour guide first thing.

Ironic, he’d be ending his day the same way he’d started: glancing at his watch and shaking his head at Beth Walker’s lack of punctuality.

He shouldn’t even be here.

Confronting her over the train-display drama could’ve waited till morning, but something had prompted him to ring and order her back tonight.

He muttered a curse, knowing exactly what that ‘something’ was: fascination.

She had him wound up tighter than a DNA strand and he needed to see her now for no other reason than to reassure himself that his absorption with her when he should’ve been focussing on those reports had stemmed from interest in the skills of a new employee and not an underlying fatalistic attraction he couldn’t act upon.

As if on cue a loud tapping sounded on the glass door in front of him and he flicked the lock, sliding a finger between his collar and neck while doing so.

He needed some air, fast.

His lungs had seized the second he laid eyes on Beth in a shimmery purple top, full make-up, blonde hair sleek and a black mini skirt that would keep him up all night.

Correction, the memory of her long, tanned legs on full display in that skirt would do that.

‘Let me guess. You’re going to tell me off for being a few minutes late.’

The full megawattage of her smile hit him as she flicked her hair over her shoulder in a gesture suggesting habit rather than an attempt to capture his attention.

Not that she needed to do anything other than stand there to do that.

‘I saw you staring at your watch just before I knocked.’

‘Occupational habit.’ He ushered her in and locked the door, trying not to inhale too deeply at the tempting fruity fragrance in her wake. ‘I like things running to clockwork. It’s the way I’ve always worked.’