Best of Bosses 2008: In Bed With Her Italian Boss\Taken by Her Greek Boss\Blind Date With the Boss (40 page)

She'd never once encountered a problem with any of the local fellows. One or two had tried moves on her, of course, but things had never gone any further than she'd wanted them
to. Besides, the local guys knew the Finch brothers would come down like a ton of bricks if anyone ever upset their baby sister.

Sally hadn't dreamed that Kyle planned to seduce her right then and there in the pine needle strewn earth of the river bank. She hadn't guessed that his charm would switch in a flash if he didn't get what he wanted.

But that had happened.

So quickly, the night had changed from a carefree evening of fun to one of stark terror and violence. Sally shuddered and cringed as the gruesome memories assaulted her now like physical blows.

She had to take deep steadying breaths as she pushed the nightmare images aside and told herself that all that was in the past. She was fine now. Steve had rescued her before any real harm was done and he'd sent Kyle Francis fleeing, never to return.

The family had closed ranks around Sally to protect her, of course, but finally she'd felt compelled to break free from her parents' and brothers' smothering concern. She'd come to Sydney to claim her independence, but she would achieve this much more readily if she remembered that Logan Black was her boss. No more, no less.

 

At work the next morning, one of the special couriers was leaning casually against Sally's desk, one elbow on the counter top while he quizzed her about her plans for the coming weekend, when clipped footsteps marched across the marble foyer, then stopped.

She looked up to find Logan Black standing stock still. To her dismay, she felt her cheeks grow hot.

‘M-Mr Black.' She managed to smile. ‘Good morning.'

He didn't respond, just stood there, looking grim.

‘Was there something you wanted?' she asked. ‘Can I help?'

Again, he didn't answer, simply let his relentless gaze sweep over Brett, the courier, before shooting a pointed glance at the clock on the wall.

Brett got the message and beat a hasty retreat. Finally, the boss spoke. ‘I have an important visitor arriving at ten o'clock. Charles Holmes, the CEO of Minmount Mining.'

Everything about his manner was aloof and businesslike as if the football game and the tumble into the pond had never happened.

Sally lifted her chin. This was good. Much better to have a proud and distant boss than one who flirted. ‘I'll look out for Mr Holmes,' she assured him.

Logan nodded. ‘Charles knows his way about this place and he certainly doesn't need an identity tag but, as a courtesy, I'd like you to escort him to my office. Maria Paige, my PA, will take over from there.'

‘Of course, Mr Black. I'll see to that. No problem.'

He nodded coolly, then turned to swipe his electronic card before proceeding through the security doors.

 

Shortly before ten o'clock, an absolutely gorgeous bouquet of snowy-white roses arrived and Sally's imagination kicked in straight away. It was someone's birthday. The flowers were for one of the female employees from an admirer. Already, she was anticipating the enjoyment of taking the flowers through to the person's office, watching the surprised pleasure on her face.

Oh, she loved this job.

But when she looked for the usual small white envelope, she couldn't find one. She frowned at the delivery boy. ‘There's no card here. Nothing to say who the flowers are for.'

He shrugged. ‘No need. They're for Mr Black.'

‘
Mr
Black?'

The delivery boy nodded, his expression blank, as if there was nothing unusual about a man receiving flowers.

‘Oh. I—I see.' Straightening her shoulders, Sally secured a pleasant smile. ‘Lovely. I'll take them up to him.'

The lift was filled with the delicate scent of roses as she ascended to the next floor. She closed her eyes, drew a deep breath of sweetly perfumed air and gave herself yet another stern lecture. Here, in her arms, was the indisputable evidence that her boss had a private life that included a woman. At last, she had a very,
very
good reason to put him right out of her head.

Maria Paige, the boss's PA, looked up without smiling as Sally approached her desk just outside Logan's office. She was one of the few employees at Blackcorp who'd hadn't bothered to be friendly.

‘Oh, the roses,' she said. ‘Good. Pop them in the vase there.'

A large vase already filled with water was ready and waiting at one end of Maria's desk.

‘You must have been expecting these,' Sally said as she lowered the roses carefully into the vase.

Maria shot a sharp glance over the top of her glasses. ‘Yes, of course. They come every Friday.'

‘Really? Someone sends the boss flowers every week?' Sally, super-aware of the open doorway to Logan's office, spoke in a stage whisper.

‘Mr Black has a standing order with the florist,' Maria said impatiently. ‘He takes them with him every Friday evening.'

So the
boss
was the admirer, not the admiree.

Sally knew this was none of her business. Logan Black had every right to buy flowers each week for the woman he loved. In actual fact, she was very pleased by the news that he was ‘taken' because it meant she had absolutely nothing to fear from him.

She might have asked the reluctant Maria more questions,
but the PA's attention was distracted by the arrival of a tall, imposing, silver-haired man in a dark business suit.

‘Mr Holmes,' Maria said with a suddenly animated smile, ‘I'll tell Mr Black that you're here.'

As Maria lifted a phone and murmured into it, Sally's stomach became a lead weight crashing to the floor. This was Charles Holmes, the important businessman she was supposed to escort up here. Someone else must have let him in and he'd found his own way.

She thought about trying to escape before her slackness was discovered but, from behind her, she heard the boss's voice.

‘Charles, good to see you.' Logan Black came out of his office, his hand extended to welcome his guest. Sally was riveted to the spot.

As soon as the two men had greeted each other, the boss half-turned and gave her a brief nod.

‘Thanks, Miss Sparrow.'

The fact that he'd got her name wrong, yet again, didn't bother her nearly so much as the knowledge that she hadn't carried out his request.

This was the first tiny task Logan had assigned her and she'd failed. If she hadn't been so distracted by the arrival of his roses, she would have remembered that Charles Holmes was coming at ten. If she hadn't been so busy quizzing Maria about the bouquet, she might have been back at her desk when Mr Holmes had arrived.

‘You got away with that,' Maria said snakily as the men disappeared into Logan's office. ‘But you'd better make sure it never happens again.'

Grateful that Maria hadn't revealed her failure and feeling several versions of guilty, Sally hurried away. This mistake was yet another very clear sign that she had to focus one hundred per cent on her job. Not her boss.

Midafternoon Janet Keaton provided a welcome distraction when she called at Sally's desk with the personality questionnaire.

‘Drop it back on my desk when you're done,' she told Sally. ‘It will be helpful for next week's team-building workshop.'

‘Will I be involved?'

‘Yes.' Janet smiled at her. ‘New employees can be very helpful in these situations. You haven't been indoctrinated yet by the office culture. Lucy from my office will look after your desk for the day. Everyone is to meet in the conference room at nine o'clock on Tuesday morning.'

S
ALLY
was relieved to see Maeve's friendly face as soon as she walked into the conference room on Tuesday morning. Her new friend waved to catch her attention and patted a spare chair beside her.

A cross section of employees was there—everyone from department heads to Sally, the lowly newcomer—and, to her pleased surprise, she was able to recognise nearly everybody by sight, if not by name. More than one person sent her a friendly smile or wave.

Janet Keaton called them to order. ‘I'd like to break the ice by giving you a chance to get to know each other better. You'll find marker pens and a blank name-plate in front of you and I want you to fill in your names.'

A small babble of good-natured chatter rippled around the room as people picked up pens, but the noise died and heads turned as a tall, commanding figure strode into the room.

‘Ah, Mr Black.' Janet met her boss's stern frown with a warm smile. ‘I'm so glad you could join us.'

Join us?
Sally's jaw fell so hard she was surprised it didn't hit the desk.

‘There's a spare seat here, Logan,' Janet said. ‘I saved it especially for you.'

The boss took the seat Janet indicated next to Hank James, the company's Information Technology guru. He thumbed a button to open his jacket, crossed one long black-trousered leg over the other and scanned the room with a haughty, narrow-eyed gaze.

Annoying lightning flashes strafed through Sally and she wondered miserably how she was going to throw off these ridiculous reactions to her employer.

‘What a pity,' Maeve muttered out of the side of her mouth. ‘Just when we were ready to have fun.'

‘The boss won't spoil the fun, will he?' Sally hissed back.

‘He's pretty cool, actually,' Maeve admitted. ‘In a remote and godlike kind of way. A bit out of our league.'

‘Fill in your name-plate, please,' Janet told Logan. ‘In case anyone here doesn't know you.' She chuckled as she made this small joke, and there was a smattering of polite laughter.

Janet beamed at everyone. ‘Now, if you turn the nameplates over, you'll find a word written under it.'

‘Here we go,' muttered Maeve. ‘Party time.' She grinned as she turned over her name-plate. ‘Oh, sweet. I'm Cinderella.'

Sally laughed. ‘I'm Butter.'

‘OK,' said Janet. ‘I want you to mingle and chat until you find a partner whose name links with yours. For example, if you were given the name Salt, you'll need to find Pepper.'

Maeve chuckled. ‘Ripper. I'm off to find Prince Charming.'

Laughter and chatter filled the room as everyone wandered about, greeting people and trying to find their match.

‘I suppose I'm looking for Butterfly,' Josie, the company's solicitor, told Sally. ‘I'm Caterpillar.'

‘Maybe you should be looking for Leaf?' Sally suggested.

Hank, the gentle, bespectacled IT guy, was Wolf. ‘You wouldn't be Red Riding Hood, would you, Sally?'

‘Sorry.'

She studiously avoided Logan Black, but she was constantly aware of his tall, dark-suited presence in her peripheral vision. He seemed to mix quite easily with his staff, which made her wonder about his customary indifference to her.

Before very long, couples found each other—Apple and Orange, Merry and Christmas, Romeo and Juliet. There was no obvious pairing of males with females, but Prince Charming turned out to be a rather hunky suntanned young geologist. Maeve sent Sally a wink and looked as pleased as a cat with more than her share of the cream.

Eventually everyone had paired up except Sally, and she found herself left in the middle of the room, feeling just a little foolish and self-conscious.

‘Haven't you found a partner?' Janet asked her.

She shrugged and shook her head. ‘There doesn't seem to be anyone here who matches with Butter.'

A strangely tense silence fell over the group and Sally wondered if everyone else in the room knew something she didn't.

‘That would be me,' said a deep male voice from behind her.

She spun around and pins and needles danced over her skin as she met the cool, dark eyes of Logan Black. He smiled ever so faintly as he held up his name-plate and revealed one word:
Bread
.

‘Well, there you go!' Janet looked delighted and actually clapped her hands.

Sally forced her face muscles to form a smile.

‘I want you to go off in your pairs. Move the chairs if you like. Or go next door to the canteen. Find somewhere private to sit where you can talk. In HR circles, we call this activity
Blind Date
. You have twenty minutes to get to know as much as you can about each other.'

It was a simple request and everyone else looked happy to
pair up and find a place to sit. Maeve and her young geologist were already in a far corner, grinning stupidly at each other and clearly getting on like a bushfire.

Logan Black, however, made no attempt to approach Sally and she remained marooned in the middle of the room.

She'd never been a wallflower at a dance, but now she knew exactly how those poor girls had felt. If the boss was going to be stuffy about this, she might hold her head high and sweep out of the room.

‘Come on, you two.' Janet was like a mother hen shooing her chicks. ‘Off you go. Get cracking with the questions.'

To Sally's dismay, Logan Black stuck his jaw at a belligerent angle and approached Janet, dipped his head and muttered something in her ear.

Sally could guess what the boss was saying: he didn't want to be teamed with the newest, lowliest employee.

But Janet dismissed him with a wave of her hand. ‘These sorts of exercises are never a waste of time. This will be good for you, Logan. You're an introverted thinking type and Sally's an extroverted feeling type. It's a perfect match. Now off you go. Think of it as a blind date and be a good sport.'

Sally knew her cheeks were bright pink, but she was not going to let the boss upset her. Lifting her chin, she smiled at him bravely. ‘I'm ready when you are, Mr Black.'

‘Very well,' he said grimly and his frown deepened as he nodded to a vacant table with two chairs. ‘Over here will do, Miss—'

With a shrewd smile, Sally turned her name-plate over.

‘Ah, yes. Miss Finch. Not Sparrow.'

It was a small victory and she wished she felt more relaxed as she sat, hoping her heart and lungs would behave normally as Logan Black lowered his long frame into a chair on the other side of the small desk that separated them.

She drew some comfort from Janet's suggestion that the boss was an introverted thinking type. It made sense. She'd met men like him before, in the Outback. Quiet, almost reclusive men, driven by inner goals.

Now he said, with an affectation of boredom, ‘Ladies first. Apparently, you have to tell me all about yourself.'

‘What would you like to know?'

His eyebrows were black and perfectly arched and, in response to her question, the right one lifted. ‘How are you settling in to your work here?'

‘I think I've settled in rather quickly. I love working here.'

‘That's good to hear.'

To cover the awkward silence that followed, Sally said, ‘I guess it's my turn to ask you a question.'

‘Fire away.'

‘What did you have for breakfast?'

‘I beg your pardon?'

Logan couldn't have looked more stunned if Sally had asked for his home telephone number.

‘I—I asked what you had for breakfast.'

‘What kind of a question is that?'

‘A safe one, I hope.'

He smiled.

Oh, my gosh.
When he smiled the skin around his eyes crinkled and his face was transformed. He looked just as he had playing football with his nephews—delightfully carefree and young.

‘I had a cup of coffee for breakfast,' he said.

‘Is that all?'

‘Yes. It's all I ever have.'

Sally was sure she shouldn't correct her boss, but she couldn't help herself. ‘But breakfast is terribly important. My
father and brothers couldn't face a day's work without a mountain of toast and a full cooked breakfast.'

‘What kinds of work do your father and brothers do?'

‘Is that your next question?'

Another gorgeous smile. ‘I guess it is.'

Emboldened by this warmth, Sally told him, ‘My father and my eldest brother, Matt, run our family's sheep and wheat property at Tarra-Binya. Steve's on an oil rig off Western Australia. Josh operates a big drag line in the Central Queensland coalfields and Damon's a mustering contractor, when he's not on the rodeo circuit.'

The dark eyebrows rose higher while she told him this. ‘That's quite a family. I can see why they need their big breakfasts.'

Sally smiled. ‘And now it's my turn to ask another question.'

Logan Black actually chuckled. ‘I'm nervous.'

‘Don't be.' She stifled a terrible urge to ask him about the white roses.
I can't ask that. I mustn't.
Instead, she blurted, ‘What's the most important thing I should know about you?'

‘I'm your boss.'

‘Come on, that's cheating. It has to be something I don't already know.'

‘Who said there were rules?'

‘We're supposed to be getting to know each other.' The sudden tightness in Logan's face warned Sally that she might be overstepping the mark. ‘Of course, you're right. You're the boss and you should set the rules.'

He accepted this as his due. ‘I'm sure we're not supposed to get deep and meaningful. Stick to everyday, non-invasive questions. Ask me whether I've lived in Sydney all my life, or where I went to school. Favourite subjects at school. That sort of thing.'

‘Let me guess. Your favourite subject at school was mathematics.'

A surprised little laugh escaped him. ‘Absolutely.'

‘And you went to a private boys' school like Sydney Grammar or King's.'

Again, he looked amused. ‘Almost right. I started at Sydney Grammar, but—' he dropped his gaze and released a rough sigh ‘my family fell on hard times and I couldn't stay there.'

‘That's rotten luck.' The grim set of his mouth told Sally that this had been a huge disappointment. ‘You've obviously done very well in spite of the setback,' she suggested gently.

Shrugging her sympathy aside, as if he wanted to get away from the subject of his family's misfortune, he said, ‘But I
have
lived in Sydney all my life.' He looked up again. ‘I guess you must have spent most of your life out west.'

She told him briefly about Tarra-Binya and even more briefly about Chloe. She said, ‘I know you like football. What's your favourite?'

At first he looked upset and Sally wondered if she'd broken an unspoken rule. Were they really supposed to pretend that the interlude in the park had never happened?

After a bit, he said simply, ‘I really like Rugby League.' And then, ‘What about you? What sports do you play?'

‘I've given most of them a go,' she told him. ‘But I guess I was best at tennis and horse riding.' She watched him thoughtfully. ‘So you were good at school, good at sport and you're successful in your career. Is there anything you're not good at?'

He laughed and had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘Oh, yes. I'm absolutely hopeless at dancing.'

‘Really?' Sally gasped—not because Logan's answer was so surprising, but because her heart began to race and a wave of fear rose through her as she remembered that horrifying night at the country dance. She saw again Kyle Francis's handsome face, his beguiling smile as he'd coaxed her outside.

It's OK. I can do this.
She was not going to panic simply because a man mentioned the word
dancing
.

Logan was looking puzzled and he sounded defensive. ‘Most guys are hopeless at dancing, aren't they?'

OK…she could either dissolve into a nervous heap or she could rise above this moment. Knowing she'd rather not dissolve, Sally held her head high. ‘Where I come from, everyone goes to bush dances and Outback balls. My big brothers taught me how to dance. The waltz, the samba, the foxtrot. I love to dance!'

Wow, she'd said it. On a wave of euphoria, she added gleefully, ‘Dancing's not that hard.'

‘I don't believe you.'

‘Even I could teach someone like you.'

Oh, cringe.
Now she was getting carried away. In the awkward pause that followed, she half-expected the boss to retaliate by asking her what she was bad at, but he was obviously too polite.