In Bed With the Boss

The questions mounted as she stood there watching and then finally she withdrew, feeling as though she was intruding on a private part of his life. After all, if he didn’t choose to go to bed and rest, that wasn’t her business, was it?

He wasn’t exactly the sort of man who would welcome the offer of a listening ear.

She slid back into bed, pushing aside images of glossy black hair and an arrogant male profile.

When she finally woke from the fitful doze that had replaced sleep, it was raining. A steady downpour soaked the trees outside her room and dampened the sounds but the air was still muggy and oppressively warm.

Wondering whether one ever became accustomed to the suffocating heat, she dressed in her light combat trousers and a simple white shirt, slipped her feet into her hiking boots and tied her hair back.

What would he say, she wondered, if he knew that she was far more comfortable in the boots and trousers than she’d been in the suit and heels?

He probably wouldn’t believe her. Clearly he had strongly felt prejudices about women. Where had they come from? And would his unfavourable judgement of her sex reflect on her?

Determined to think positive, she stared into the mirror and gave herself a pep talk.

It was a new day. Yesterday was gone and she had this one, whole day in which to change his mind about extending her loan.

One more day to persuade him that maintaining his investment in her business was a good thing for everyone. Although why he was so concerned about what must be for him a minuscule amount of money, she didn’t understand.

Was it really all about money for him? Or was there something else lurking in those dark, brooding shadows? Something that he didn’t share with strangers.

Something that kept him awake deep into the night.

He was talking on the phone again when Maria showed her into his office and she stood in tense, salient anticipation as he concluded what was obviously a business conversation. He spoke in short, clipped tones, delivering orders in an authoritative style that made her feel sorry for the person on the other end of the phone.

Did anyone like working with him? Or did they all spend their lives in a state of nervous tension?

When she had meetings with her team they slipped off their shoes and curled up on sofas with mugs of tea. Everyone gave their opinion and argued loudly.

She gave a wry smile.

But her business wasn’t exactly thriving, was it? Perhaps she ought to go to her room and practise developing a more autocratic style.

He ended the call and looked at her. ‘What—no suit? No heels?’

He obviously thought she was some sort of fashion clothes-horse and his comment confirmed her suspicion that he was probably used to women who shopped and never dropped. She decided to keep the conversation businesslike. ‘You told me to dress for the jungle. When does the helicopter arrive?’

‘We’re not using the helicopter, Grace.’ His voice was silky smooth. ‘We’re walking. I hope those boots of yours aren’t for show because you’re about to be tested.’

Was that supposed to frighten her? She almost laughed. What he didn’t know was that her whole life had been spent being tested. Why, she wondered, did everyone in the world always expect her to fail? Making a mental note not to utter a single word of complaint, she lifted her chin. ‘Fine. Test away. If you’re waiting for me to collapse then you’re going to be waiting a long time.’

‘Good, because I have no desire to scrape you off the jungle floor or drag you from the coils of an anaconda.’

‘What is your problem?’ She looked at him in genuine bewilderment. ‘You want me to fail, don’t you? You want me to make a fool of myself. Why? Just because my company hasn’t made you enough money? Is it really that important?’

He studied her for a moment and then bent and retrieved two rucksacks from the floor. ‘It’s a two-hour walk, providing the rain doesn’t cover the path.’ He thrust a rucksack into her hands. ‘Let’s go. We’ll eat breakfast on the way.’

He hadn’t answered her question but she was left with a horrible sinking feeling that she was going to discover the answer soon enough.

CHAPTER THREE

THE RAIN FELL STEADILY and Rafael trudged up the path, occasionally casting a glance over his shoulder to check that Grace was with him. A reluctant smile touched his mouth as he saw her plodding behind him, her blonde hair now soaked and sleek against her head, the rain turning it from bright summer wheat to rich, old gold. Her clothes were saturated and clung to her body, revealing every line and contour of her slender frame.

Slender but with curves in all the right places.

He should have put her in front, he thought idly, so that he could at least have admired the view while they walked.

Instead of which, she was the one looking at him. Occasionally he intercepted a curious glance, as if she couldn’t quite work out what he had planned for her. As if she couldn’t work him out and he found her frank, appraising stare profoundly irritating.