In Bed with the Boss

by Susan Napier

  ‘Last night…someone I’ve been seeing…I—he asked me to marry him…’

  She faltered to a stop as she was witness to a sight unique in her experience: Duncan Royal stunned speechless. He looked like a man who had been hit over the head with a mallet. His quizzical smile vanished and his jaw sagged. His mouth opened and closed but the only sound that came out was a breathy wheeze. His olive complexion paled, accentuating the twin crescents of darker skin curving below the inner corners of his eyes and making him look as haggard as he was handsome. If it hadn’t been for his anchoring grip on her chair Kalera got the distinct impression that he would have toppled on his backside on the carpet.

  He was, quite literally, floored!

  In any other circumstances Kalera would have been highly amused. Duncan enjoyed jolting people out of their complacency and dropping verbal bombshells was one of his favourite methods of hijacking conversations. To turn the tables on him so effectively was quite a considerable feat. But she knew the peaceful state of suspended animation would not last very long.

  ‘We went out to dinner and he asked me to marry him and I said yes,’ she expanded hastily, hoping to stave off the barrage of questions she could see forming in his eyes. ‘So when I got home I took my old rings off. I can’t very well wear them when I’m engaged to someone else…although maybe I’ll wear the solitaire as a dress ring later, when—after we’re married…’

  Duncan’s unblinking gaze moved down to her slender right hand, curled protectively at her waist, and she realised that he was seeking concrete proof of her claim.

  ‘I haven’t got a new engagement ring yet because we’re going to choose it together—tonight after work, as a matter of fact…’

  Duncan shook his head once, violently, like a seasoned fighter emerging from a standing count. For once his intellect was lagging far behind the pace as he said slowly, ‘You’ve been seeing someone else?’

  Kalera’s shoulders twitched in an awkward shrug. ‘As you just pointed out, Harry’s been gone two years now—’

  ‘You’ve been seeing another man?’

  And to think Kalera had always felt inferior to his towering intellect! She couldn’t stop a bubble of nervous laughter escaping her throat. ‘Well, I certainly haven’t been dating other women. Besides, same-sex marriages are illegal, so there wouldn’t be much point in my becoming engaged to—’

  Her feeble joke didn’t even bring a glimmer of humour to his expression. If anything it seemed to stoke his outrage.

  ‘You’ve been dating?’ He shoved her chair so it skidded back on its casters and stood up, fists planted on his lean hips. ‘Just how long has this been going on?’

  ‘A few months,’ she confessed, although in practical terms it had actually been much less than that.

  His dark brows snapped together. ‘A few months! You’ve been seeing other men for months without even mentioning it?’

  He made it sound as if she had been living a secret life of rampant promiscuity. One minute he was urging her to get over losing Harry, the next he was making her feel guilty for pre-empting his advice.

  ‘Not men,’ she protested, flushed with a mixture of guilt and indignance. ‘A man. Singular. And, well, it all started so casually there wasn’t really anything to mention…and, anyway, why should I? You don’t talk to me about the women that you date!’

  ‘That’s because—’ He broke off, and his eyes narrowed on her pink face. ‘No, I don’t, but that doesn’t prevent you knowing about them, does it? You field my calls, open my mail and have access to my diary and hard drive, and what you don’t know I’m sure the grapevine provides—this place is a hotbed of internal gossip and the network bulletin board seems to keep well up to date with jokes about my social life. I bet you end up knowing the women in my life better than I do!’

  ‘I doubt it,’ murmured Kalera sardonically, thinking of the progression of Body Beautifuls who had been photographed hanging on his arm, although, given Duncan’s legendary restlessness and the average tenure of his girlfriends, the idea wasn’t entirely far-fetched.

  ‘Oh, I didn’t mean in the carnal sense,’ he said, his gravelly voice outrageousness in its blandness as he segued smoothly into his interrogation. ‘So, who is he, then? This wonderful man who so casually infiltrated your life that he wasn’t worth mentioning to your friends?’ His expression hardened. ‘Or am I just the last to find out?’

  Kalera shook her head. Unable to bear the inactivity, she pretended to straighten things on her desk. ‘No, I haven’t talked about him to anyone. It’s—rather awkward…’

  He perched his hip on the edge of her desk, propping an elbow on the top of her VDU, the dark, pin-striped fabric of his trousers pulling taut across his long, muscular thigh as he absently hitched his polished heel onto the handle of her file drawer.

  ‘Why? Is he already married?’

  She almost choked on her appalled gasp. ‘No!’

  ‘Divorced? Children kicking up a stink about Dad’s new girlfriend? No? Maybe you’re ashamed of him,’ he speculated, seeming to relish the idea. ‘Is he some kind of sleazy low-life you’re embarrassed to be seen with in public?’

  Kalera knocked over the pen-holder she was needlessly repositioning. ‘No! Of course not,’ she denied, concentrating fiercely on rearranging the pens. ‘He’s very well-educated and successful. He has his own company…’

  She waited for him to ask what line of business her new fiancé was in, but Duncan proved infuriatingly uncooperative.

  ‘So…he’s rich, then?’ he drawled, with the hint of a sneer.

  He was purposely being provoking and Kalera was determined not to be provoked. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good-looking?’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘Intelligent?’

  ‘Extremely.’

  ‘Good in bed?’

  She didn’t miss a beat. ‘Scintillating.’

  He opened his mouth and her patience deserted her as she added tartly, ‘He’s also kind, generous, fond of young children and animals and good to his mother.’

  He pursed his lips and looked patronisingly sceptical. ‘Not cut the apron-springs yet? Is he much younger than you?’

  ‘Since I’m only twenty-seven, how much younger could he be?’ she snapped, bristling at the idea that she was the victim of a feminine mid-life crisis. ‘He’s not some smooth-talking gigolo or toy-boy if that’s what you’re implying. He happens to be in the prime of his life!’

  ‘What an interesting euphemism,’ he needled slyly, enjoying her small flare of temper. ‘I guess that means he’s more the sugar-daddy type.’

  She sucked in her breath. ‘As a matter of fact, he’s exactly your age.’

  His eyelids flickered. ‘He sounds exactly like me in every respect so far. Is this your coyly euphemistic way of telling me you’re panting with unrequited love for me?’

  Her grey eyes flashed silver and she forgot she was supposed to be placating him. ‘You’re the last man on earth I’d want to fall in love with,’ she cried, her hands bunching into fists on top of her desk as she struggled with an uncharacteristic desire to break things. ‘My God, you are so arrogant!’

  He shrugged, acknowledging the accusation with an insufferable grin of bone-deep confidence. The annoying thing was that his arrogance was largely justified; he seemed destined to excel at whatever he did. He joked about being a computer nerd but he was a far cry from the introverted, pasty-faced, pigeon-chested, techno-freak of popular misconception. At thirty-four Duncan kept himself at a peak of physical fitness in the company gym, and played cut-throat games of squash at a city club, smashing stronger opposition with his erratic brilliance and aggressive will to win.

  ‘Comes with the territory,’ he murmured. ‘You know—mid-thirties, good-looking, clever, stinking rich, kind to children and animals…’ His voice dropped an octave to a sexy purr that ruffled the nerves all the way up and down her spine. ‘Not to mention sizzling in bed. Tell me, Kalera, what has you
r mystery man got that I haven’t?’

  She had said scintillating, not sizzling, but he had substituted the word deliberately. Sizzling had an altogether different connotation. Oh, yes, she could well believe that Duncan Royal could burn up the sheets when he was in the mood.

  ‘Humility!’ Kalera’s face glowed with a very un-Madonna-like spite as he winced.

  ‘Ouch!’ He tried to look humble and failed miserably. ‘Whoever he is he sounds far too good to be true.’

  ‘Well, he isn’t.’

  The ring of sincerity in her voice made the teasing malice die out of his expression and he regarded her over the top of her computer, his dark brows lowered, overshadowing his brooding eyes, his square jaw tense.

  ‘He does exist, then? He’s not just a figment of your wishful imagination?’

  ‘Of course he exists!’ she said firmly. ‘I wouldn’t be resigning from my job if he didn’t!’

  His chin clipped up as if she had hit him. ‘Wait a minute; is that the only reason you’re resigning—because you’re getting married?’

  ‘Staying on isn’t really an option…’ she began carefully.

  He slid off the desk. ‘What?’ He was genuinely outraged. ‘You’re giving up a job you love because this paragon of yours doesn’t want his wife to work? What is this—the Dark Ages? Why didn’t you tell the Neanderthal where to get off?’

  ‘Because it’s not like that—’

  ‘What is it like, then? Are you planning to move away, is that it? Doesn’t he live in Auckland?’

  ‘Yes, he does, but—’

  His brain was already fast-forwarding to other possibilities. He was piecing together her unease, her embarrassment and unaccustomed reluctance to get to the point. He blanched. ‘Are you pregnant?’

  His eyes bored into her flat stomach with an intensity that suggested he had X-ray vision. Kalera felt a tightening in her womb as she was swamped by a sense of intimate invasion. Instinctively she flattened a protective hand over her abdomen and something dark and dangerous smouldered to life in the piercing navy eyes.

  ‘Did you and your lover get careless? Is that the reason for this indecent rush to the altar? You know, illegitimacy doesn’t carry the stigma it used to—’

  That was going too far, even for Duncan. Kalera leapt to her feet, her slight body vibrating like a tuning fork as she matched his outrage. ‘For goodness’ sake, what rush? We haven’t even discussed a wedding date yet!’ she yelled. ‘We’ve only just got engaged. Of course I’m not pregnant. Do you know how insulting you are? Believe it or not Stephen wants to marry me; he’s not doing it out of duty or necessity or because he’s been trapped into retrieving my soiled honour. If you’d stop trying to cram words into my mouth you might have time to listen to what I have to say!’

  He fell back a pace, colour streaking back into his startled expression. Just as Duncan was famous for his temper, Kalera was renowned for her serene composure. She rarely raised her voice but when she did she used her diaphragm properly, as she had been taught during singing lessons as a child, and her normally warm, husky tones could project a shout of booming authority.

  Still, it wasn’t in Duncan’s nature to be confounded for long. ‘So…at last the mystery man has a name,’ he shot back. ‘What’s the rest of it? Is he anyone I’d know?’

  Kalera put her hands behind her back, squaring her shoulders proudly. ‘Actually, yes. And knowing who it is you’ll understand why I have to resign. The man I’m marrying is Stephen Prior,’ she announced.

  And ducked as Duncan Royal went ballistic.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘So…HOW did he take it?’

  ‘Not very well,’ said Kalera wryly, watching as her fiancé neatly cracked another crayfish leg between his strong fingers and extracted the meat with minimal fuss. She envied the combination of easy self-confidence and natural fastidiousness that allowed him to make it look so simple.

  If Kalera had ordered the crayfish in butter sauce she would have been in grease up to her elbows by now, with all sorts of debris clinging to her face. She loved seafood but had never quite got the hang of tangling politely with crustaceans at the dinner table and in the interests of romance, not to mention her white silk dress and unbound hair, had decided to forgo the restaurant’s specialty in favour of discreetly de-boned duckling.

  Stephen dabbled his fingers in the lemon-scented bowl of water beside his plate and dried them on his starched white napkin. His gold signet-ring gleamed dully in the candlelight, the only embellishment to his elegant, understated style. His dark, custom-tailored jacket and white shirt were as plain as they were expensive and provided the perfect setting for his lean frame and boyish good looks.

  ‘I take it that’s one of your masterly understatements,’ he said, picking up his champagne glass and toasting her silently before sipping the contents. Not for the first time Kalera basked in his wonderful manners. Whenever she was with Stephen she was made to feel like a lady, as well as a woman. Harry had been a lovely man and a good husband, but he had been a bit short on social graces. Romantic gestures were simply not his style.

  She looked around the plush restaurant, enjoying the novelty of dining in sumptuous surroundings with an escort who provoked envious glances from other women. So far all their meetings and dates had, from necessity, been conducted in discreet, out-of-the-way places where neither of them rated a second glance but now they had finally gone public and Stephen said that he wanted to show her off in style. Now there was no longer a need for secrecy he intended to introduce her to the social whirl. He was proud of his future bride and wanted the world and all his friends to approve his good fortune.

  He was already planning for them to host a lavish engagement party and Kalera hoped that she wouldn’t disgrace him with her inexperience. She and Harry had lived a very quiet life. Going out to the movies or a neighbourhood café or having a few couples around for a casual barbecue had been typical highlights of their social week whereas Stephen was used to a very different scene. She knew that his divorced first wife had a Fine Arts degree and a social pedigree a mile long, and had been renowned for her parties, and, although he had assured Kalera that he would never make comparisons, others in his circle were bound to judge her by Terri’s standards.

  ‘I suppose any man would become upset at the news that his secretary has become engaged to his bitterest rival,’ Stephen continued, the intent look in his brown eyes belying the casualness of his tone. ‘So how did he react?’

  Thinking that he had been more than tolerant of her disinclination to talk about her traumatic day, Kalera sighed and put down her fork. At least she had managed to get through most of her meal before Stephen’s curiosity burst the bonds of his restraint.

  ‘You want chapter and verse?’

  ‘The highlights will do if anything more is going to compromise your honour,’ Stephen said with a rueful smile.

  He was clearly dying to know every detail of the encounter, but was equally intent on sticking to the pact that they had made when they first met—no discussions about their work. Stephen’s ownership of InfoTech Systems put him in direct competition with Labyrinth and he had been labelled Private Enemy No.1 by Duncan Royal. Although Labyrinth currently held the edge, the fierce battle for a bigger slice of the booming New Zealand market in computerised office systems continued to rage between the two companies, fuelled by the owners’ personal animosity.

  Initially wary of becoming involved with any man, let alone one who presented a potential conflict of interest, and seriously doubting that Stephen’s suggestion of mutual self-censorship would work, Kalera’s fears had soon been allayed. He was scrupulous about observing the unwritten rules of their relationship and they found plenty to talk about that didn’t involve projects or personnel at Labyrinth and InfoTech.

  ‘It was awful, wasn’t it?’ he groaned as Kalera hesitated, searching for a tactful way to describe the scene. ‘I know I should have insisted on being there when you t
old him—’

  She shuddered at the thought. ‘That would only have made things worse. Anyway, you’re so much persona non grata at Labryinth that you wouldn’t have got through the front door. The security guards have your photo.’

  ‘Really? I didn’t know that.’

  Kalera bit her lip at the slip and he quirked an understanding eyebrow. ‘Don’t worry, the same kind of precautionary measures apply at InfoTech, except we have Royal’s face pasted to our games-room dartboard. You can tell him if you like.’

  She could just imagine how that tidbit of information would be received. It would merely prove to Duncan that she had lied when she said that she and Stephen never discussed any aspect of their work, let alone anything that would compromise professional ethics on either side. She felt a small spurt of annoyance at the amusement on her fiancé’s face. There was nothing funny about departing a job she loved with a cloud over her honour.

  ‘No, thanks, I’m in enough trouble as it is.’

  He caught the edge in her voice and smoothly adjusted his expression to one of remorseful concern. ‘I’m sorry, darling; I know how difficult this has been for you.’ He frowned. ‘Are you saying he threatened you?’

  He sounded so incredulous that Kalera’s bruised sense of humour was warmed back to life by his effort to soothe her wounded sensibilities.

  ‘We are talking about Duncan Royal,’ she pointed out with a dry chuckle. ‘Of course he threatened me.’

  Stephen didn’t share the joke. ‘I mean physically. I know how terrifying he can be in one of his rages. When we were at school he used to have the most frightful fits—that was one reason he was never made a prefect in spite of his brilliant academic record—he was simply considered too unstable. And then at university—well, he had a reputation for creating mayhem wherever he went…’

  ‘I knew you were briefly in partnership with him a few years ago, but I didn’t realise that your acquaintanceship went right back to your childhood,’ said Kalera slowly, aware of a slight sense of unease as it suddenly occurred to her that in spite of the illusion of intimacy created by their secret courtship she still had an awful lot to learn about the man she had promised to marry—and vice versa.