Craving Her Boss's Touch

He had taken over David’s office—just as he had taken over David’s job, Storm thought rebelliously as she knocked on the door and walked in.

Jago was studying some papers, which he dropped on to the desk, reminding her that he wanted to see her to go over the advertising figures first thing on Tuesday morning. Was he actually giving her time to prepare her case? she asked herself acidly. Munificence indeed!

‘Something wrong?’ he asked coolly, leaning back in his chair—David’s chair really, Storm thought angrily. When she didn’t answer an understanding smile quivered across his mouth.

‘Ah yes, I see what it is,’ he drawled. ‘Poor Storm, what did you expect? A torrid love scene in the office? Been nerving yourself to fight me off, have you?’

He was on his feet, standing behind her, so close that Storm could feel his warm breath stirring her hair. Just being in the same room with him seemed to drain her energy and yet fill her with a claustrophobic fear at the same time. He hadn’t made the slightest move to touch her in any way, but she was more intensely aware of his maleness than she would have been had she felt his hard body pressed against her own.

‘I never mix business with pleasure,’ Storm heard him say. ‘Don’t worry, though. When I’m ready to make love to you, you’ll know all about it. Have dinner with me tonight?’ he asked unexpectedly. He saw the warning flash in her eyes and laughed. ‘David is going to Oxford—on business,’ he told her softly, ‘so don’t go running to him for help.’

’I wouldn’t have dinner with you if… if I were starving!’ she managed disdainfully as she thrust open the door. Surely he must know how much she disliked him? But then of course feeling would never matter to Jago Marsh. She was simply an appetite he wanted

to appease, and once he had done so, she would be tossed on one side—discarded. But she would make sure that would never happen!

Back in her own cubbyhole of an office she buzzed through to Sue and asked if she knew where David was.

‘Gone out,’ came the other girl’s cheerful response. ‘Didn’t he tell you?’

There hadn’t been time to tell one another very much lately, Storm thought uneasily. She and David normally went out together on Friday evenings and he had said nothing to her about visiting Oxford, although she knew he had friends living there from his university days.

‘Doing anything tonight?’

She hadn’t heard Pete come in, and he perched on the edge of her desk grinning down at her.

‘And don’t tell me you’re going out with old David, because I know you’re not. Told me himself that he was going away for the weekend.’

It seemed that David had told everyone but her, Storm thought a little resentfully. Her phone rang and she moved to pick it up, covering the receiver as Pete coaxed, ‘Come on, we’ll go and have a drink with the crowd. Strictly platonic, I promise.’

She didn’t feel much like an evening at home, she admitted, acknowledging the growing restlessness she had experienced over the last few days. An evening out would do her good.

‘Pick me up at nine,’ she mouthed to Pete, who nodded and gave her a mock salute as he left.

Later in the afternoon she felt so tired that she half regretted her decision to go out, but it was too late to change her mind. Her father had offered to collect her from work, and he was waiting in the car-park when Storm got outside.

The fields were a patchwork of varying greens and golds, broken by the odd spot of dark brown where the earth had been turned for a winter crop, cobbled together with the neat grey lines of the dry-stone walls. Storm lay back in her seat and closed her eyes.

‘You’re quiet.’ Mr Templeton shot her an amused look. ‘Finding this new boss harder to handle than old David?’

‘David isn’t old!’ Storm expostulated, but Mr Templeton just grinned.

‘Some people are born old, my girl, and some are always young. Your David is one of the former, and you, my love, are most definitely one of the latter.’

Irreverently Storm wondered into which category Jago Marsh fell, squashing the admission that he was a man it would be virtually impossible to define or put into a precast mould, and then dismissed him firmly from her mind and gave her attention exclusively to her father.

‘Going out with David tonight?’ he asked quizzically.

Storm shook her head. ‘He’s in Oxford.’ No need to tell her father that David had neglected to inform her of his intentions. ‘I’m going out with Pete and the usual crowd, just for a drink.’

‘Do you good,’ Mr Templeton approved. ‘You’ve been rather preoccupied lately. Care to talk about it?’

‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ Storm replied rather huskily. That was the beauty of her parents, although they never interfered they were always ready and willing to listen to her problems and suggest a solution.

She smiled a little wryly at her father’s reaction to the information that Jago Marsh wanted to make her his mistress. If one could apply such an outdated word to the undoubtedly ephemeral relationship he had in mind. Knowing her father’s love of logic he would probably have some perfectly rational explanation for the other man’s behaviour, Storm reflected with a sigh. This was one problem she could not share with her parents, although she admitted that perhaps some self-analysis was called for.

Her mind shied away from the admission. Just because Jago Marsh made her feel nervous… threatened. It was a perfectly natural reaction and one that any girl would have felt faced with his coolly stated intentions. She had no desire to become involved in any purely sexual relationship. Mutual respect; shared interests—these were the things on which durable relationships were formed.

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