Falling For Her Bad Boy Boss (Island Girls: 3 Sisters In Mauritius)

by Zee Monodee

  The sight did something strange to him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say something had thawed inside him, going from a solid, cold piece, to a living, and feeling, part.

  “I’m sorry, Neha, so sorry,” he said in a murmur.

  He’d pushed; she’d jumped. And had nearly taken a heavy fall.

  Logan couldn’t hide it anymore. She’d found her way under his skin, and in his blood. As well as every living cell of his being.

  While he sat with her, something registered in his mind with startling clarity.

  What would he do without her?

  Chapter Seven

  “Mum, for my birthday, can I have a gaming PC? That laptop’s processor is so slow, and the graphics card never renders well enough for any good game. And a new bike, you know, like the one we see at the shop we drive by every time?”

  Neha half-listened to her son as she went about folding the laundry in the side room off the kitchen. “Sure, darling. Once I figure out where the money tree grows, I’ll get you everything you want. You and your sister, as well as your brother, who’d want me to buy every book coming up for sale on Amazon.”

  “Come on, we’re not so bad,” Kunal said in a horrified tone. “It’s my birthday, Mum. A once-in-a-year occasion.”

  “Yes, I know. As is Christmas. And the New Year. And when you get your final results and pass your classes.”

  He grinned, and she smiled back. Drat, she couldn’t stay angry or bear a grudge for long with them. Truth be told, they were all three of them amazing children when they weren’t giving her grief. It could’ve been a lot worse, especially with their father out of the picture.

  Don’t go there.

  She wouldn’t, she reckoned as she swiped her fingers with deft flicks through folds of a huge linen sheet and finished it into a neat square.

  “Mum, we gonna have a party this year? A real party?”

  The question interrupted her thought process, and she focused her attention on her son.

  The previous year, their first in Mauritius, every birthday had been celebrated in a half-hearted attempt to convince themselves that life went on as normal. She cringed as she remembered the other occasions over the past years. Very rarely had her husband been there for the celebrations, most of the time on some trip to Lord knew where because of his demanding job. So in a way, his absence the year before hadn’t much jarred from the habitual events. Except for the fact that this last time, they had known he wasn’t there because he was gone. The papers weren’t official, but the authorities already considered him technically dead.

  “Mum!”

  Neha jumped. “What, darling?”

  He shook his head, the long hair tied in a low ponytail shifting from side to side with the movement.

  “Kunal, get a haircut, will you?”

  Her request would fall on deaf ears, but she needed to say it. She figured this way, she’d take care of her motherly duty. Kunal must be old enough to shoulder some of his own responsibilities.

  “It took me two years to grow my hair. Are you out of your mind?”

  The abject horror in his tone made her want to laugh, and she stifled a smile.

  As the question filtered into her mind, she paused in her task.

  Was she out of her mind?

  If not, then she sure marched on the road to getting there. Everything had snowballed on her, the biggest catalyst triggering this whole onset named Logan Warrington.

  Two weeks since her first stint as his co-anchor. Two weeks in which she’d hosted the evening news by his side as if for all intent she really had become the other half of the on-screen couple.

  With a soft sigh, she recalled the fateful evening after the broadcast.

  An onset of asthma, and someone by her side as she’d battled with her closing trachea and the need for air. Somewhere along the way, she had closed her eyes, too tired to bother with anything else.

  When she’d opened them, she’d been lying in a man’s arms, cradled to his strong chest, the back of her head in the crook of his elbow.

  She’d focused her gaze upon his face, and her still-squeezing lungs had hitched in a breath.

  Logan’s face had appeared dark, tense. His strong jaw had been clamped, his mouth in a tight line. The slanted cheekbones had seemed more prominent, and the dark eyes had blazed with concern and worry.

  She thought she’d seen some other emotion in them, but of this, she couldn’t be sure.

  Her mouth had felt like dense cotton, the slightly tangy taste of the inhaler medicine still present on her tongue.

  As she’d tried to sit up, a hot flush had crept up her face when she’d attempted to move and had ended up brushing her lower back and her arse into his lap. He’d braced her with an arm and had helped her up, but only so she could lean her cheek into the hollow of his shoulder.

  Neha hadn’t had the strength in her to squirm further. Desperate times did call for desperate measures, and this moment had turned as desperate as they got.

  Finally extricating herself from his arms when he’d released his grip a little, she’d moved until she’d slipped off his thighs and settled onto the cold leather of the couch.

  Logan had stood, then. “Are you okay?”

  She’d nodded and kept her eyes downcast. “The worst is gone. It won’t happen again.”

  “There’s the debriefing still needing to be done.”

  His tone had sounded gruff. He’d had every right to be peeved.

  They’d gone over what they’d covered during the broadcast once in his office. She had a feeling he’d wrapped up the process rather faster than usual. Afterward, he’d escorted her to her car, and her heart had thudded in her chest for most of the trip back home because his BMW had shadowed her Citroën all the way until she’d entered her driveway.

  The big vehicle had remained like a dark phantom on the edge of the gate until she’d walked out of the garage and entered the house. From the window of the front room, she’d seen it move away.

  A text had come through her phone a few seconds later.

  ‘Don’t come in for the morning. We’ll manage. Get some rest.’

  She hadn’t gone to work the next day as he’d asked, hovering in a limbo as to where she stood with him. Until the call from Debbie had come at around two o’clock, asking her to come over as they needed to discuss the anchor situation.

  “I’m not putting you through this again.”

  Logan’s words once she’d sat alone with him in his office had brooked no argument. He had sent Debbie scampering for cover with a scathing glare, and the dark eyes had then focused on her.

  “I’m not going to panic again, Logan.”

  The eyes had narrowed.

  “It was the first time for me. Now I know I can do it.”

  “No.”

  She’d thrown her hands up and stood, riled by his pig-headed attitude. “You heard Debbie. There’s no one else to anchor with you for the rest of the week.”

  “To hell with it. The head office will have to understand.”

  “You surely cannot risk that.”

  “Try me.”

  He’d stood, coming around the large desk in three long steps to stop in front of her. All the words had scrambled in her head. Drat, why did she want to go on with this insane anchor business? It meant being close to him, and this, in turn, meant everything inside her turning to complete, useless gunk.

  Logan had hitched in a breath, and she’d found herself hanging onto his sharp intake of air. His dark eyes had caught hers, as if their irises had been speaking a language of their own, one she’d understood every nuance of, but had remained powerless to stop or influence.

  Time had stood still for what had actually been seconds, but to her, had felt like an eternity.

  “You about scared the life out of me back there in that room.”

  The words had come out of his mouth, and she had heard them.

  What her eyes had however registered and decrypted
had spelt something on another level.

  Don’t do this to me again!

  “I’m sorry.” The soft, hushed whisper had escaped her lips as her gaze had remained anchored into his.

  He’d shaken his head. “Why do you want to keep on doing this?”

  She’d moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Because you asked for my help.”

  And that had been the end of it, she realized as she bunched the cool linen in her grip. She had thus been his co-anchor for the past two weeks, signing a freelance contract to be renewed every fortnight.

  “Earth to Mum!”

  Neha jerked out of her recollections.

  Kunal. Right, he’d asked if they would have a party this year. She gave him a forced smile as she tried hard to tear her thoughts away from the tension-filled moment when she would swear something had shifted in the dynamics between her and her boss. Again.

  “Yes, darling. You will get your bash this year.”

  He jumped, whooped with joy, and came over to hug her.

  A laugh escaped her. Thank goodness Kunal still remained a touchy-huggy lad. She would’ve hated to lose this affectionate dimension with her children, she who’d never stopped showering them with kisses and hugs ever since their births.

  He drew away to peer into her face.

  “Uh, Mum, can we invite Logan, too?”

  Oh, no. Not this. Yet, she couldn’t deny the boy this request. Logan had become his mentor and his friend, and it was hardly as if he were a stranger to all of them. “Sure.”

  Another whoop of joy rang out, at the same time the click-clack of high heels resonated on the tiled floor of the laundry room.

  “What’s the happiness about? I get a share, too?” Suzanne asked.

  As the girl drew nearer, Neha had to lift her head to peer into her face. She trailed her gaze over the statuesque figure to the stiletto sandals on the pedicured feet.

  “Aren’t you tall enough?” she asked in a bored tone.

  “It’s for practice,” Suzanne replied.

  “For what?”

  Suzanne sidestepped the question by directing her bold gaze to her younger brother. “Why are you smiling like a loon?”

  Kunal winked at her.

  “I’m getting a birthday bash, and Mum said I could invite Logan.” Turning to Neha, he continued. “How many friends can I ask?”

  Neha wanted to groan. “Draw a list. We’ll go over it later.”

  The lad needed no further directions. He shot out of the room on his way upstairs.

  “Lend me a hand?” Neha asked her daughter as she nodded towards the sheets still in the laundry basket.

  “Sure. I’ve got some time to kill, anyway.”

  Well, thank you for gracing me with your valuable time. Suzanne behaved like a total teenager at times, but her daughter proved a good sort, and she never crossed the fine line that would’ve made her a living nightmare for her mother.

  “So,” Suzanne said. “Logan will be coming over.”

  “Uh-huh.” Neha lowered her head so the girl wouldn’t notice the flush creeping up her when she thought of her handsome boss.

  He would be here, in her house. Again. The memory of the last time he’d been in her kitchen surfaced with startling clarity in her mind. The hot sauce. Him wiping it from her skin with a thin towel, the heat from his touch tingling inside her ...

  Get a grip, girl!

  “Gads, Mum, how can you work with such a bloke every day?”

  “Huh?”

  She’d never thought her daughter viewed her working position in a bad light. Had she been completely remiss in picking up the vibes Suzanne could’ve been sending?

  “That’s one hunky piece of man meat if I ever saw any,” Suzanne said. “And you’re there by his side every single day!”

  She almost choked. “Excuse me?”

  “Mum.” Suzanne gave her a pointed look. “You’re not dead, surely. Don’t tell me you’ve never noticed how sexy Logan is.”

  A strangled sound escaped from her throat. She didn’t know if it came from the surprise of hearing her daughter speak like this—like she ‘saw’ men as a grown woman would—or from the fact that she knew exactly what Suzanne meant. The girl also spoke of Logan as if they were fast friends.

  “He’s got this tattoo on his arm that’s just divine,” Suzanne said. “And his body. Hmm, delicious.”

  “How … how do you know all this?” She knew of the blasted tattoo because she’d seen it, but how had Suzanne seen it?

  “That’s how.” The girl pulled out her iPhone and, after a few swipes on the screen, turned the device over to her.

  A video played, of Logan during one of his boxing combats. And drat, Neha gulped—the inked drawing on his arm was perfectly visible. As perfectly as the rest his delightful-looking self, his shapely arse and the top of his thighs swathed by a pair of loose black shorts.

  “Beats the suit and tie any day, innit?” Suzanne had moved in until she looked over Neha’s shoulder at the screen. “A fine man, indeed, isn’t he, Mum?”

  Neha snapped out of the sensual spell that had descended upon her and turned to her daughter.

  The daughter who sounded more like a close girlfriend than the little girl she’d dressed in pretty ruffled dresses and sparkling barrettes not so long ago.

  When had she grown from the little princess to the already-mature-looking young woman?

  Suzanne gave a small laugh. “I knew it. You are a goner.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  The girl frowned. “I’m not an idiot, Mum. Tell me you don’t think this man is a hunkalicious specimen, and I’ll be right to say you’re lying straight through your teeth.”

  “Suze! Remember who you’re talking to here!”

  “I know. Just like I know you always told us to state the truth and nothing but the truth whenever we had to.” She paused. “I have to now.”

  Neha didn’t know if she needed to slap the git for her abject insolence or hug her for having the faith to voice out her convictions so loudly.

  “All right, he’s gorgeous,” she admitted. “But hardly a man to chase after.”

  “He’s not taken, is he?”

  “No, he isn’t.” She stopped to think. “Not that I know of.”

  And only a total arse would look at you the way he did in his office after the fateful broadcast if he already had someone in his life.

  “Then, what’s the problem?”

  “Suze, it’s not so simple. Logan, he’s different.”

  “How? No, don’t tell me.” She gasped. “He’s got a sex tape online!”

  “No, he doesn’t!”

  “Wouldn’t be strange, you know. Can’t you just imagine him in bed? I sure can—”

  “Suzanne, that’s enough!”

  Blast it, her daughter was talking to her about a man’s sexual prowess. And not any man, but Logan. Sex and her teenage girl—she didn’t want to think of that. They’d had the birds and bees conversation when Suzanne had gotten her period at ten. Full stop.

  “Then what, Mum? What makes him so ‘wrong’ according to you?”

  “I don’t think he’s wrong.”

  “Aha! So you admit it. Then, what’s the problem?”

  There were now so far gone into this lurid conversation, Neha had no idea how to bring it back to something more akin to ‘normal.’ Come to think of it, what represented ‘normal’ with Suzanne involved? Grasping for the first thing she could think of to substantiate her stand, she blurted out the words.

  “He’s different. Like he’s been in rehab.”

  “Almost every celebrity worth his or her salt has been in rehab. And he came through fine. Get over it.”

  Get over it?

  She couldn’t believe this. “When did we swap roles, you and I?”

  “Ever since I realized you need a mighty push to take a step out of the celibacy vow you seem to have taken. You’re well alive, Mum. It’s Dad who’s gone. Not
you.”

  Neha reeled under the matter-of-fact quality in the high-pitched voice. “Suze—”

  “Don’t Suze me.” The tone however gentled. “You have to face it, Mum. Life’s waiting for you out there. None of us are blind to the fact that you need and deserve someone to take care of you.”

  “None of us who?” The question came out on a mere whisper, so much the words uttered by her eldest child made her reel.

  “Myself, Kunal, and Rishi. We want to see you happy. It’s all we’re asking for. And don’t say you will never find the kind of happiness you had with Dad ’cause that’s bull, and you know it.”

  “I loved your father.”

  “I never said you didn’t. But was he your fulfilment? I don’t think so.”

  Neha frowned. The kids had noticed. Was she the only one who’d thought she had everything under control? Had her smokescreen of perfection been a veil existing only before her eyes?

  “How old are you again?” she asked wearily.

  At this, Suzanne smiled and reached out to hug her. Neha allowed the long, lean arms to close around her.

  In a blink, her daughter had released her and propped herself up on the top of the washing machine. “Listen, Mum, can we talk?”

  She turned startled eyes onto the girl. What on earth had they been doing all this time?

  “Sure.”

  This has got to be a dream. I’m asleep, and my mind is thinking all this up. How else would she explain the strange tone this encounter had taken?

  “You remember I went to the sports pub with Matthew the other day?”

  She nodded, a sense of foreboding slithering over her as she processed the serious tone of the girl. “What happened there?”

  Keep your calm.

  “This,” Suzanne said as she handed her a small paper rectangle.

  Neha glanced at the words printed on the business card.

  Guy Langlois. Photographer.

  She glanced back at the girl. “You met this man?”

  Suzanne nodded as she pressed her lips together.

  Drat, why would one of the most famous professional photographers on the island give her his card? “What did he want?”