Best of Bosses 2008: In Bed With Her Italian Boss\Taken by Her Greek Boss\Blind Date With the Boss (26 page)

‘Well…' Rose tried to think of a coherent argument that wouldn't make her sound prissy in the process. How could she explain that just standing next to him in her own house made her feel nervous and uncomfortable, so how much more difficult was it going to be when she was working in his?

‘Your virtue is perfectly safe with me.' Nick grinned. ‘Like I said, I won't be there during the day, and if you're scared of being around me in my apartment, then we can always catch up on neutral territory. There's a pub just around the corner. We can avoid the cubby-holes with the subdued lighting.'

‘Of course I'm not scared of you.'

‘Good, because there's no reason to be, nor is there any reason to feel uncomfortable in my presence.'

Mortified, Rose interpreted his slow, amused smile as his way of telling her that he wouldn't come near her if she happened to be the last woman on the face of the earth.

‘I'll let you know after I've spoken to my boss. Tomorrow some time. Is that all right?' What was she letting herself in for?

 

One month into her new temporary job, she was fast finding out.

A chic five-star hotel tucked away in the bowels of Covent Garden was her first project for inspection. Her brief was to examine why it worked and in detail, with a weekly report to be compiled for Nick's scrutiny. That, in addition to checking out costs for everything under the sun that might possibly be needed in the construction of a hotel. There seemed to be a hundred people, all of whom she had to liaise with, and Nick, at the end of each day, expected perfect recall and written reports on everything.

He would sweep into his apartment at six-thirty and, although he had told her that she could clear off by five and email him with her findings, she had pretty quickly sussed that, whatever he said, he expected her to work until at least six-thirty and if necessary later.

And she didn't mind. She had thought, a lifetime ago it seemed, that she would be crammed into his small personal space and, like a cat on a hot tin roof, would spend every
minute there in nervous expectation of his sudden entry. She had envisaged being surrounded by his private objects, which would intrude on her, a constant nagging and stomach-churning reminder of his overwhelming personality.

But his apartment, for starters, was vast. It was also peculiarly impersonal. The abstract paintings on the white walls gave no clue to the man except to indicate his wealth. There were no photos in frames or ornaments standing on shelves. Two cleaners came promptly at eight every morning, and departed at ten, leaving the apartment spotless. Her office was no makeshift affair. It was large and kitted out for serious work and, once there, Rose had no trouble concentrating.

And then, just as she was usually packing up to leave, he would sweep in. From the office, Rose would hear the slam of the front door and the jangle of keys as he carelessly tossed them on the granite kitchen counter. Then he would appear in the doorway, tugging at his tie, leaning against the doorframe and watching her for a few seconds in silence as she logged off the computer.

It was the time of day she had been dreading. Yet now, it was the time of day Rose waited for with a sense of heady, forbidden, crawling expectation.

Tonight was no exception and she felt her stomach churn with excitement as she heard him approach. She knew it was wrong but her attraction to him was something she just couldn't seem to stuff away somewhere conveniently out of reach. It had ambushed her from behind and her only defence against it was to hang onto her veneer of professional self-control.

‘I've got those costings for you.' She had trained her eyes not to stare whenever he tugged his tie off, but, like recalcitrant kids, they still always managed to sneak a look at that
glimpse of hard brown chest that was revealed as he undid the top two buttons of his shirt.

‘And I've got something for you…' He walked towards her, waggling a piece of paper in his hand.

‘What is it?'

‘Have a look.' He gave her the envelope and leant on the computer terminal, watching as she slit it open. ‘We're going on a trip.' He smiled slowly as she tipped her face up to stare at him. ‘A little look-see at some prime land in Borneo.' He moved round so that he was behind her chair and then he bent towards her. Rose could feel his warm breath against her neck. ‘Fish out the summer glad rags, Rose. It's going to be mighty hot out there…'

N
ICK
told Rose everything there was to know about the timetable for his project and what had inspired him to pick Borneo for its location. Over a bottle of wine and some delivery Chinese food, which they ate in his ultra-modern, rarely used kitchen, he explained his connections with Malaysia, starting with an old university friend with whom the project was to be undertaken, and ending with an impassioned and persuasive belief that Borneo would soon be the rising star as Kuala Lumpur and Penang became overrun with tourists.

Rose did her utmost to play down her excitement and treat the whole thing as something that happened practically every day. She asked cool, sensible questions but her mind was running rampant with thoughts of planes and sea and lush green forests and, of course, being sequestered somewhere remote with him.

That was the most frightening aspect of the whole thing. How on earth was she going to maintain her sang-froid when she would be with him twenty-four seven? How long before her professional mask slipped and she made a complete fool of herself? Thus far, Nick had no idea that she followed him with her eyes, drinking in the powerful lines of his body, feasting on his harsh beauty, filing away throwaway remarks,
the way he laughed, the slashing gestures he used when he was in a bad mood, so that she could bring them out at a later date and savour them like a guilty secret.

To him, she was the ugly duckling he had rescued out of obligation who, she hoped, was proving herself to be as efficient an employee as he could have asked for. Occasionally he teased her and very occasionally some of that teasing bordered on flirtation, but Rose, having lived her life in the shadow of her stunning sister, was a realist. Charming, good-looking men liked charming, good-looking women. A beautiful woman, for a man like Nick Papaeliou, was an essential accessory and if he occasionally flirted with his plain employee, then it was simply an overspill from his unconscious ability to charm. She shuddered to think how he would react if he ever found out about her inappropriately lustful imaginings.

She would be brought back down to earth by Nick listing her duties once they arrived at their destination.

Rose, who had been anxiously day-dreaming her way into a fictitious and awkward scenario in which he was roaring with laughter as he spotted her following him with puppy eyes as he dived into an imaginary swimming pool, surfaced to find him frowning.

‘You are going to be able to accompany me, aren't you, Rose? You did say when I took you on that you had a valid passport.'

‘Oh, yes,' Rose answered brightly.

‘Because you seemed to be a million miles away just then.' He leaned towards her, eyes narrowed, and Rose automatically flinched back. ‘Is there something you should tell me?' he demanded unsmilingly and for a few, disturbing seconds Rose thought that he had read her mind and exposed her shameful little secret.

‘S-something I should tell you?' she stammered weakly.

‘Fear of flying, maybe?' Nick leaned back and looked at her thoughtfully. ‘It's nothing to be ashamed of. I know you haven't done much overseas travel…'

‘Too busy touring the UK in search of spiritual zen,' Rose said, weak with relief.

‘Right. But there's no need to be afraid of flying. Believe it or not, there's more chance of you ending up under the wheels of a car than plummeting from the sky.'

‘Oh. Well, thank you very much for reassuring me that those great metal birds can stay airborne,' she said sarcastically, recovering her equilibrium.

‘Then what's the problem?'

‘I…don't have a problem, Nick.' She would have to take a swimsuit; she sure as hell wasn't going to take a bikini. She would take a very sensible one-piece and sneak out under cover of night to have a swim. The thought of frolicking in a pool with him made her feel sick.

‘There you go again.'

‘There I go again
what
?'

‘Frowning and getting that distant look in your eyes.' He reached forward and before she was aware of his intention he smoothed her brow with his thumb. It was such an unexpected gesture that Rose literally jumped and gave a little yelp of shock.

‘You're on edge. Why? If you're not scared of flying, then is it the unknown?'

‘Yes.' She wanted to rub where he had touched and brush away the scorched sensation she was feeling. ‘I'm scared of the unknown.'

‘Thought so,' Nick said with satisfaction, ‘although I can't understand why. You had a pretty nomadic existence growing up. If anything, I would have thought you would have found
the unknown quite appealing. Don't we always long to revisit our childhood?'

Rose had done her best to discourage any personal conversation between them. She felt safer when their relationship was purely on a business footing. Yes, of course he asked about the house and the work being done on it and naturally she answered him because the house was, really and truly, the reason why she now found herself working for him. But beyond that, she was vague when he asked her what plans she had for the weekend, or how she spent her evenings or even what sort of people she met in the hotel, whether she liked them or not.

However, she was so relieved that he had misunderstood her apprehensive expression that she gratefully clung onto his fear-of-the-unknown nonsense for dear life.

‘Sometimes it doesn't work that way,' Rose said distantly. She stood up and began clearing away the empty containers, which looked a little unhealthy as the leftover contents began to congeal.

‘No?' Nick pulled a chair towards him and propped his feet up on the black leather. After weeks of working with her, sitting within touching range of her when they brainstormed over some niggling problem, brushing her arm with his as he leaned to consult architectural drawings, growing strangely accustomed to seeing her now when he came in through the front door, he could honestly say that he still didn't know much about her personal life. She had piqued his curiosity a long time ago but, instead of proximity doing what it should have done, and diminishing it, he was more curious about her than ever before.

Now she was throwing him a glimpse into her thoughts and, like a dog tossed a bone, he was annoyed to find himself picking it up and preparing to run with it.

‘You mean you're scared of what you don't know even though you spent your formative years dealing with it?'

Rose shrugged. She had her back to him, which suited her. It helped her keep her voice steady as she spoke. ‘You should be doing this, Nick. This is your house and these are your dishes.'

‘But you're a woman and I'm a man. Don't women love doing things like that? Keeps them busy and happy.'

Rose spun around, but her heated accusation of sexism died on her lips when she saw the grin plastered across his face. Without thinking she flung the tea towel at him and he caught it and tut-tutted under his breath.

‘I should punish you for that,' he drawled. ‘Trying to cause grievous bodily harm to your employer…'

Rose felt her mouth go dry. This was the lazy, flirty voice he sometimes pulled out of the bag, with the dexterity of a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat, and, it didn't seem to matter how many times she told herself that he was just one of those born charmers, that voice still got to her every time.

‘With a tea cloth?' she said lightly. ‘You must be a lot more delicate than you look if a tea cloth can inflict serious injury.' A brief, electric silence greeted this remark and Rose clenched her hands into fists behind her back. She didn't know what had possessed her to say that.

‘Should I take it as a compliment that you consider me big and strong?' Nick murmured provocatively. He could tell that she would have liked the ground to open and swallow her up and for the first time since she had started working for him, he felt suddenly enraged. Enraged that he had given this woman an opportunity many would have killed for. Enraged that she continued to treat him with the studied politeness of a stranger. Enraged that every single time he had tried to get under that armour of hers, he had found himself gently but
firmly repelled. Enraged now that she was back to looking at him with something like horror, as usual turning a perfectly innocent, teasing remark into something diabolical.

‘Forget I said that.' Nick's voice was cool and dismissive. He even turned away.

Rose was stricken. How was he supposed to know that she shrank away from him because she was just so damn scared that if she didn't her treacherous legs would have her pelting towards him and her even more treacherous arms would wind themselves around his neck and cling?

What must he think of her? That she was ungrateful? Churlish? Buttoned up? The sort of woman who had suffered a sense-of-humour bypass somewhere along the line?

Rose wondered whether maybe she had.

‘I'm sorry,' she faltered.

‘What about?' Nick enquired politely.

‘I'm really excited about going to Borneo…' Humourless. Buttoned up. An efficient little worker bee who actually thought that what she had to say mattered to Nick Papaeliou. He was courteous, even teasing and flirtatious sometimes, and yet here she was, lips tightly pursed, as if her maidenly honour were under threat. Clutching her precious, uninteresting private life as if one single lapse would send him into a sexual, predatory frenzy. The idea was so nonsensical that Rose inwardly cringed.

‘But I guess I'm a little scared as well…'

‘Oh, yes?' Nick reluctantly felt himself drawn to that simple, hesitant admission. ‘Why?'

Rose sighed and went to sit at the kitchen table. She rested her chin thoughtfully in the palm of her hand and stared back down the years. She had agreed with him, initially, because he had conveniently supplied her with an excuse for her own
disturbing train of thoughts, but now she thought that maybe he was right. Maybe she was scared of the unknown.

‘Tony and Flora always thought that traipsing around the country would make me brave and adventurous. I think they kind of figured that some of their let's-change-the-goalposts lifestyle would rub off on me, but it never did. When you move from school to school, you end up dreading each upheaval even more than the last one. At least, that's what it did for me. It's why I like working for Fedco.'

‘You can hide behind the size?' he guessed shrewdly, now fully ensnared by her dreamy, distant voice.

‘I can be safe. Borneo…' Rose laughed and blinked so that he was back in her line of vision. ‘Well, Borneo is just something else altogether.'

‘All that heat…'

‘And insects…'

Anything could happen. He nearly said it out loud and caught himself in the nick of time. ‘But Tony and Flora would be pleased…'

Rose gave him a dazzling grin. ‘More than pleased. They'd be overjoyed. You want to hear them on the subject of Lily. They're thrilled to bits that she's now on the other side of the world making her fortune. I think they feel that they've somehow contributed to that.'

‘And what about you?'

‘I would never contemplate living across the Atlantic.'

‘I mean, are
you
thrilled that your sister is making her fortune on the other side of the world?'

‘I've got accustomed to it,' Rose told him. ‘I miss her terribly, but it helps knowing that she's happy and fulfilled.'

‘And are you?'

‘Am I what?'

‘Happy and fulfilled.' Nick wasn't quite sure why he had asked the question. He could only think that he must be out of practice when it came to women, because experience had taught him that questions like that provoked answers he didn't like.

‘Well, I'm pretty pleased with how the house is coming along.' Rose scuttled back into her shell. ‘Have I told you that I'm going to have it redecorated top to bottom? The whole place is destroyed and, rather than do a patch up job, I'm going to go all the way and really have it exactly how I want it.'

‘Interesting. Sounds like you're there for the long term.'

‘At least for the foreseeable future,' Rose said vaguely. ‘But tell me a bit more about Borneo…what else do I need to know…?'

 

That it took for ever to get there. That was something he hadn't told her and it was just as well as it had allowed her no opportunity to spend three days angsting over the ordeal of sitting next to him on a plane for a seemingly never-ending period of time. Rose had had enough angst on her plate just worrying about what she was going to buy to take with her.

Then there was the whole question of what exactly she was supposed to do once she got there. She might be a whizz at computers and, yes, facts, figures and financial projections were things she could handle without too much difficulty. And reporting back on her hotel, chatting to the manager, with whom she had developed a pleasant rapport, about the nuts and bolts of city chic, was within her spec…but looking at land in a country she had barely heard of and could only vaguely point to on a map?

‘Okay. Spit it out.'