by Susan Meier
She looked up at him, the navy-blue eyes dark. ‘I think I might be more jet-lagged than I realised,’ she said slowly. ‘Let me get this straight. You are working, here, at Rafferty’s, as the vice CEO and living at Hopeford. In my house.’
‘Temporarily,’ Gabe clarified. ‘Your house, that is.’
She closed her eyes.
A knock at the door jolted her back to wakefulness, the eyes snapping open.
‘Yes?’
The door opened, followed a moment later by Rachel, who was carrying a large tray. She flickered a sympathetic glance over at Gabe and he couldn’t resist winking back.
‘Your coffee, Miss Rafferty.’ Rachel set the tray onto the desk and smiled at Gabe. ‘I brought your usual smoothie, Mr Beaufils,’ she said in a much lighter tone. ‘The chef has your muesli ready. I said you might prefer to eat it in the staff canteen this morning. Oh, and dry-cleaning has sent your clean shirt up. I’ll just take it through for you.’
‘Merci, Rachel.’
Polly had begun to pour her coffee but stopped mid flow, her eyes narrowed and fixed on her assistant.
‘You were aware that Mr Beaufils was here? In my office?’
‘Well, he often works late...’ Rachel said.
‘And you didn’t think to warn me?’
‘I...’
‘Tell Building Services I need to see them this morning. Mr Beaufils obviously needs his own sleeping and breakfasting area. Oh, and his own assistant. Get on to HR. We’ll discuss the rest later.’
‘Yes, Miss Rafferty.’ Rachel bobbed out with a sigh of relief, returning a second later with a crisply wrapped shirt, which she handed to Gabe before exiting the office and closing the door.
‘Nice girl, very competent.’ Gabe sauntered over to the tray and picked up his usual smoothie. It had taken a few days for the chef to get the mixture just right but it was pretty close to perfection now. He took it over to the chaise and sipped but could feel Polly’s eyes on him and looked over at her with a faintly enquiring smile.
‘Are you quite comfortable?’ she asked. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to ask for your muesli in here? Take a shower before getting dressed? How about a massage?’
He bit back a smile at the sarcastic tone in her voice. ‘A shower would be lovely, thank you.’ He downed the shake, feeling the cool liquid hit the back of his throat, the vitamins working their way into his system. ‘Don’t worry about showing me the way. I know my way around.’
‘Hold on.’ But she was too late, Gabriel Beaufils had disappeared into the cloakroom.
Polly jumped to her feet but came to a stop. She was hardly going to follow him into the shower, was she?
Not that he would mind—he’d probably just ask her to pass him the towel! After all he had no compunction about parading around her office half naked. No wonder Rachel was smitten. Smoothies and muesli indeed.
The phone on her desk blared. It was probably the kitchen wondering if Gabe wanted a lightly poached egg with his breakfast. Polly glared at it before pressing the speakerphone button.
‘Polly Rafferty.’
‘You’re home, then.’ Familiar grizzled, curt tones.
‘Hello, Grandfather. I hope you’re feeling better.’ He at least hadn’t expected her to go back to Hopeford before returning to work. But then Charles Rafferty had never actually taken a holiday—his bucket list probably read ‘spend more time in the office’.
Her grandfather merely grunted. ‘Hope you’re ready to get down to some serious work after your little holiday.’ Polly bit back the obvious retorts; it hadn’t been a holiday, she had left the company after barely taking a long weekend off in the last five years.
But what was the point? Words wouldn’t change him.
‘Have you met Beaufils yet?’
Polly couldn’t stop her eyes flicking towards the cloakroom door. ‘I’ve seen him,’ she said drily. ‘Confident young man.’
‘He’s Vincent’s boy, Gabriel. You know Chateau Beaufils of course, we’ve been their exclusive UK stockist for decades. He’s the only son.’
‘That doesn’t explain why he’s here.’ Her voice was sharper than she had intended.
She didn’t want her grandfather to know how much Gabe’s presence had shaken her.
‘Oh, he’s not here because of the vineyard although that’s a good connection of course. Man did some great things at Desmoulins, which is why I snapped him up. Thought he’d be good balance for you.’
‘Good balance for me?’ Polly wasn’t sure whether she wanted to laugh or cry. Balance or replacement? If he couldn’t have Raff did her grandfather want this young man instead? Just how much did she have to do before he finally accepted her? ‘I really think I should have been consulted.’
‘No.’ Her grandfather’s answer was as sharp as it was unequivocal. ‘Vice CEO is a board decision. We need someone with different strengths from you, not someone you can ride roughshod over.’
Talk about the pot and the kettle. Polly glared at the phone.
‘He knows the European markets and is very, very strong digitally, so I want him in charge of all e-commerce. Oh, and Polly? It’s going to take a few weeks before his apartment is sound again. It won’t bother you to have him at yours until then? You barely spend any time there as it is.’
Despite her best intentions Polly found her attention wandering back to the moment she had first seen Gabe sprawled on her chaise. The line of his back, the strong leanness of him, the delicacy of that intricate tattoo spiralling up his spine.
Thank goodness her grandfather wasn’t here to see the flush on her cheeks.
Her first instinct was to demand they find Gabriel Beaufils alternative accommodation a long, long way from her house and home. And yet...it might be useful to keep him close. What was that they said about friends and enemies?
‘I can’t imagine there’s much to excite him in Hopeford,’ she said sweetly. ‘But of course he can stay.’
The more she could find out about Gabriel Beaufils, the easier it would be to outmanoeuvre him. She was in charge of Rafferty’s at last and no smoothie-drinking, bare-chested, charming Frenchman was going to change that.
Copyright © 2015 by Jessica Gilmore
ISBN-13: 9781460375631
Her Brooding Italian Boss
Copyright © 2015 by Linda Susan Meier
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