Hot Boss, Boardroom Mistress

by Natalie Anderson

  What hurt more was the terrifying confirmation that she wasn’t over him—and the realisation that she wasn’t ever going to be. No one could make her feel the way Jared just had. She wouldn’t ever want another.

  But he didn’t want her.

  Who got to have a first time like the one she’d just had? Yes, it had hurt, but then he’d been so careful, building her up again so slowly until she’d forgotten the pain and could only focus on the incredible sensation of having him inside her like that. The way he moved, had taught her to move—so easily, so amazing that she wanted more. Even right now she wanted more. She wanted him to take her in his arms and tell her he’d never experienced anything like that either and then take her straight to bed and do it all over again.

  It had been spontaneous quickie sex on the sofa in his office and they hadn’t even been naked. What could it be like between them if they had a bed and a whole night ahead of them? And if they weren’t arguing?

  She longed to find out. But with the man of steel striding beside her she knew she had no hope of it ever happening.

  The main door to her building was unlocked. It wasn’t supposed to be. Anyone could walk in. She led the way up the stairs to her own room. Not looking to see his reaction as they passed the closed, locked doors of the other residences of the letting house. He said nothing until she’d unlocked her door. She wanted him to go but she didn’t have the energy to fight him. Really she just wanted to get into a shower and cry.

  ‘I’ll see you right in.’

  The mail was on the floor as they walked in. She crouched and picked it up, recognising the logo of the nursing home on the top envelope. The reality of what she’d just done hit her. How could she have forgotten?

  Not even the ad agency woes were anything on this.

  ‘I thought you flatted with some friends or something.’ Jared’s frown had grown exponentially.

  ‘No. I just have a room here.’

  ‘Why?’

  Because she couldn’t afford anything more. Because she didn’t have any friends here other than the ones she’d made at work.

  ‘I like it,’ she lied.

  He was staring hard at her but she hardly noticed, too busy trying to see through the envelope from the nursing home. Was it a bill? The cost of the new medication for Grandfather was huge but she’d been desperate for him to try it—anything to slow down the deterioration of what had once been such a marvellous mind.

  She forced herself to grow some dignity. She had to retrieve this situation.

  ‘I don’t regret what just happened, Jared,’ she said shakily. ‘But I’m sorry things were so out of control. I’m sorry I was so out of control.’ She made herself look him in the eye. ‘I never should have yelled at you. It was extremely unprofessional of me.’

  She clutched the envelopes tighter in her hand to stop the rustling sound. ‘I hope this won’t affect our business relationship.’

  For a moment he didn’t move, just looked at her hands, looked around her room once more.

  ‘I’ll be in touch,’ he said at last. Brief. Promising nothing. Then he turned. He couldn’t get away fast enough.

  Amanda locked the door behind him. Once she’d thought she could never be more humiliated than that night of her sixteenth birthday. Now she knew different. Funny how this time there were no witnesses. Last time she’d had Polly and her grandfather to see how he’d rejected her and then add to it. This time it was just her and Jared. And while she knew he had the power to make her happier than anyone on this earth, he also had the power to make her suffer as no one else could.

  He never should have touched her. Never should have put a finger on her. Hadn’t he known the danger?

  Hell. He just hadn’t realised quite the danger. He slammed his car door shut; no way was he going back to work either. He drove and kept driving ’til he was out of the city and heading north towards the beaches as he was forced to revisit everything he knew—or thought he knew—about Amanda Winchester.

  He thought of her all those years ago, sitting up in his bed, thinking he’d be thrilled to see her there in a black lace negligee. How many times had he wondered what it might have been like if he’d taken her up on her offer? Never had he imagined it would be like the nuclear bomb that had just exploded in his office.

  And, man, the fallout was something else.

  He was deeply, bitterly angry. Mostly with himself. He’d been wrong. Jared hated being wrong. Nothing was as it seemed—not concerning Amanda.

  He’d thought she’d have done it years ago. Gone and found some other willing stud as she’d threatened. But she hadn’t. Why hadn’t she? God, she was so gorgeous, surely they’d be beating down her door…

  And nor was she living the life of luxury he’d always imagined she would. In reality she was working hard to keep her precarious job, living in a total dive in a crap part of town with a bunch of transients, and then she’d let him take her virginity in a bout of out-of-control, angry sex.

  What the hell was going on?

  He thought back to that long-ago night once more, tried to focus on her face. He’d been too shocked to see it then, but he knew now how nervous she must have been. Nervous enough to swallow too much of her grandfather’s brandy. She’d been foolish—spoilt for sure and impetuous. Naive. And now, he saw, rather sweet. She must have really wanted him—had she actually had deeper feelings?

  No. Not possible. It was physical. It had to have been just physical. It always was, right?

  But never to have been with another? He couldn’t believe that the young woman who’d so brazenly offered herself to him had never let some other guy come close.

  He went hot and cold at the thought of that moment. He’d hurt her and he hated himself for that and he hated her for putting him in that unwitting position. She should have damn well told him. God, how could he have gone from the best experience in his life to the worst and back again in just a few minutes?

  Jared lifted his foot from the accelerator, realising he’d just shot way over the speed limit. Bitterness brewed in his blood again. He knew he was attractive to women. Even back when he’d been young and worthless with no family, no money and no obvious prospects, he’d been approached and enticed.

  But wasn’t it all they wanted from him? It was certainly all he offered. A relationship—commitment—was never something he considered. He didn’t have the will or the skill for that.

  He’d thought Amanda had been the spoilt young girl going for the boy from the wrong side of the tracks—attracted by the rebel cliché and her hormones had liked the muscles. Lots of women liked them. Even more women liked money. Jared knew this now too. But what did she really want? She’d been a virgin, for heaven’s sake. She sure as hell better not want a wedding and white picket fences because that wasn’t ever going to be his scene.

  He’d have to stay away. The situation had totally nosedived. Messing around with someone so inexperienced wasn’t his scene either. Not if there were going to be the kind of expectations that made his blood run cold.

  But instead his body burned inside out again as need shot through him and he battled with how realistic that determination was. Because of what he wanted to do to her…what he ached to do…

  He pulled his car over to the side of the road and stared at the zero on his speedometer. He had to admit it. The drive to have her overpowered his instinct to reject and run. Staying away was not a viable option.

  But he was not going to be caught in her spell a second time. He was not going to spend long lonely nights dreaming of her again. He was not going to lose control.

  He turned the car around and headed back to the city. Any idea of keeping things on a purely professional footing was long gone. But whatever happened next between them had to be on his terms.

  Chapter Eight

  THE residual ache between Amanda’s legs wasn’t going away. But it wasn’t damage from the initiation she’d had. Oh, no. It was the desire for more. Her appe
tite had been whetted. She’d tasted. And now she yearned—hunger yawning wide deep within. And all she could think of were ways in which he could fill it. Finally aware of all she’d been missing out on, she was reduced to a sex-starved female fantasising her life away.

  She dragged herself to work, dreading facing the others. They’d be wondering what the hell had happened yesterday.

  ‘Are you feeling OK?’ Bronwyn was on her the minute she stuck her head in the door. ‘Jared phoned yesterday and said you’d come down with a migraine at the meeting.’

  Migraine. Was that what you called it? Amanda nodded dully. ‘I’m so sorry I—’

  ‘He’s coming in at ten. He’s changed his mind.’

  ‘He has?’ She could scarcely breathe; it was the worst news, then. The agency was losing the business and she’d lose her job. There’d be no money for—

  ‘About having you as the client liaison.’

  What? Did he use those words exactly? Amanda felt the colour fire into her face.

  Bronwyn looked at her closely. ‘He’s happy to have your contribution on the ads, but he does want someone more experienced to manage the project.’

  ‘We still have the contract?’ Amanda fought back the dizziness, tried to understand. ‘I haven’t ruined it for you?’

  ‘Quite the contrary—he’s expanded the brief. But he wants the benefit of the full team.’

  Right. In other words, no more one-on-one time with Amanda.

  ‘For what it’s worth I think this is for the best,’ Bronwyn said softly. ‘It was a lot for someone as inexperienced as you to have to manage.’

  Jared was a lot for someone as inexperienced as her to manage. Yes. She knew that. But she was still ticked off.

  She left the building at a quarter to ten using coffee as an excuse, not trusting herself to be within a hundred metres of him without screeching at him like a banshee. Half an hour later she slunk back to her desk, hoping he’d have been and gone already.

  ‘Amanda.’ Bronwyn appeared. ‘Jared has a few questions.’

  Her heart sank—no such luck. It had been a remote chance anyway.

  She went into the meeting room, casting a glance to the side of him rather than right at him. But her retinas captured his image anyway—another suit—and every fantasy flicked through her head again.

  Rats.

  She sat and refused to look at him as she answered the couple of questions relating to the logo. Stared at the pages on the table between them as he and Bronwyn wrapped up their chat.

  ‘A lot of great progress has been made.’

  Yeah right.

  Bronwyn stood and Amanda leapt up too, moving swiftly to the door.

  ‘One moment, Amanda.’ It was a command and in front of her boss she couldn’t ignore it. She stopped but she stayed standing.

  Bronwyn went out anyway. Clearly they’d discussed it—him having a private word with her.

  ‘Are you OK, Amanda?’

  ‘Oh, sure.’ She turned to face him. ‘You have sex with me and then you pull me from the contract. I’m just fine.’ She attempted a laugh. ‘And you’re the one saying to keep the personal separate from the professional.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I’m trying to do,’ he said in an annoyingly reasonable tone. ‘The agency still has my business, Amanda. But I don’t want to hold you to ransom over it. No matter what happens between us, Synergy will be doing that work. But I don’t want you doing whatever with me because I’m the one with the power over your job. I want you free of that to make your own decisions.’

  Whatever with him? His words slowly sank in. ‘Decisions about what?’

  He paused. Stood from the table and moved that touch closer. ‘Have dinner with me.’

  ‘Is this because you feel guilty?’ She wished he wouldn’t come closer; it made it difficult to concentrate. But he took another step.

  ‘Do you think I have anything to feel guilty about?’

  ‘No. I think we can share responsibility for what happened.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said softly.

  She could feel his attention—despite refusing to meet his eyes. She’d be sunk if she did. ‘Don’t feel you have to—’

  ‘I don’t feel I—’ He broke off. ‘Just have dinner with me.’

  She stared straight ahead at his broad chest and the remnants of her rage disintegrated. She could no more say no to him than she could stop breathing.

  Hopeless.

  And he knew, didn’t he? Because she didn’t even have to voice her answer. He just made the plan as he walked out the door. ‘I’ll pick you up at six.’

  He was ten minutes early. Sent a text to let her know and she left her desk immediately.

  He pulled away from the kerb as soon as she was in. ‘Are you hungry?’

  She hadn’t felt hungry in days. Not since she’d walked onto that plane and found herself next to him. The gnawing inside had nothing to do with food.

  ‘I’m cooking.’

  ‘Really?’ She glanced into the back seat and saw a couple of shopping bags. She smiled but couldn’t work up more enthusiasm—too aware of other things. They were going to his place? Why did he want to do this—was it some sort of apology? Some kind of obligation? A belated dinner-date bit seeing how she’d delivered herself as the dessert yesterday?

  Or did he want more—as she so desperately wanted more from him—that touch, that fire…

  She practised her airplane breathing to try to steady her pulse. Barely ten minutes into the drive he swung into a basement garage. As they got out of the car she saw him cast yet another sidelong glance at her. ‘The campaign is going to be great, Amanda. It just needs some fine tuning.’

  He thought she was worrying about that?

  The apartment complex was small but exclusive. He led her to the elevator and they shot up to the top floor.

  ‘Nice place.’ Wooden floors, wide windows, spectacular views. Equally spectacular paintings were highlighted on the walls with specially placed spotlights.

  The furniture had sleek, clean lines and looked comfortable. But Amanda couldn’t sit, couldn’t stand still. She walked, one window to another, from one painting to the next—until she stopped in front of the biggest, hanging above the gas fire.

  ‘This is a beautiful painting.’ She studied the stark landscape drawing a kind of comfort from the barren hills.

  ‘You like it?’ He looked in from the kitchen to see the one she meant.

  ‘Very much.’ She nodded, turning and catching his smile.

  ‘Come into the kitchen,’ he said gently.

  ‘Said the spider to the fly,’ she muttered. But she followed—unable to refuse that subtle note in his invitation. Intimacy.

  His head turned sharply and a broad grin stretched his face. ‘But who is the spider and who is the fly?’

  Oh, like that wasn’t obvious? He laughed at her expression, she ignored him and wandered round the kitchen as he unloaded the groceries. He had nice appliances. Great espresso machine. A juicer of course. She paced. Looking, searching for something, anything to distract her from the excitement and adrenalin racing inside.

  ‘Amanda?’

  ‘Hmm?’

  He sighed and suddenly swooped, picked her up easily and plonked her to sit on his kitchen bench.

  Startled, she looked right into his face for the first time that day—reading the darkness burning in his eyes, seeing the tension in the sharpened angles of his jaw.

  Her eyes widened and somehow everything slowed. Inside she shook with each powerful thump of her heart.

  He did nothing. He said nothing. But so closely he scrutinised, his eyes reaching deep into hers, seeking something out. She didn’t know what he was hunting but she knew she couldn’t hide a thing. Because under his burning glare her mouth parted—she could feel the pulse in her lips as her blood sped, and from the depths of her belly came the curling licks of heat and desire.

  She wanted him so badly.

  His
features flared but for a moment she was unsure if the brightening was driven by anger or desire.

  His lips barely moved but his low mutter seared her skin. ‘I can’t resist you.’

  Suddenly there was a scuffing sound, one thud, then another—she glanced to the side in time to see his shoes hit the floor by the fridge.

  Snapping her gaze back to him, she saw his grin had returned as he undid his tie and tossed it over the far side of the bench. She sat absolutely still as he began to undo the buttons of his shirt, until finally she got her voice to work. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Taking off my clothes.’ He shrugged his shirt off. ‘It gets hot in the kitchen, you know.’

  Oh, she knew. She released the breath she’d been holding for ever. But the relief was swallowed fast by the excitement as she burned up—fascinated by the body being revealed. His torso was incredible.

  ‘How come you have a tan?’ Smooth, lightly bronzed skin stretched over honed muscles.

  ‘Swimming. Surfing.’

  ‘But it’s winter.’

  ‘I go overseas.’

  He had chocolate-brown nipples that she wanted to lick. Her own nipples were tight and sore. Never in her wildest fantasies had she imagined having him before her like this—she’d known he was strong, but she hadn’t guessed he’d have such definition.

  ‘Where do you go?’ Any conversation to stop her gawping and drooling.

  ‘Hawaii.’

  There was no fat, his body all filled out with muscle and sinew and rippling strength. His hands had undone his belt. In a second he was stepping out of his trousers, sliding socks off at the same time. Then his fingers went to the waistband of his boxers.

  ‘You don’t think that could be dangerous in the kitchen?’ she croaked, a feeble attempt at a joke.