Hot Boss, Wicked Nights

Sandy shrugged, a half-baked smile on her face. ‘Guess I was mistaken. Sorry again.’ She bounced up off her chair. ‘Let me make it up to you. I’ll make you the best coffee you ever had. It even makes cappuccino—’

‘No!’ Kate snapped. ‘No,’ she said again, striving for the calm professionalism she was known for, which seemed to have deserted her this week. ‘Thanks, I’ll get one myself in a while.’ Drop-dead gorgeous was already the cause of office conflict and he hadn’t been here more than forty-eight hours.

Coffee machine! She scoffed to herself as she punched in the airline’s number yet again and was put on hold. It was obvious he was trying to lure the staff onto his side. Sandy was already there. They’d like him, they’d want him to stay. Where would that leave her?

And what next after the coffee machine? An Under New Management sign on the window and a change in name? Damon Gillespie looked like the kind of man who’d want to make his own mark on the business. She could just picture ‘Damon’s Travel’ up there in big red letters.

Regular customers came here because they trusted Aussie Essential. Personalised service with a smile, the best deals around—somehow Bryce had always managed to undercut the competition. Why change something that worked?

She’d just finalised the booking from hell when her phone rang again. ‘Good morning, Aussie Essential Travel, Kate Fielding speaking. How can I help you?’

‘And good morning to you, too, Kate. Glad to hear you’re sounding better today.’

No name—of course a man like him would expect her to recognise his voice. She was tempted to play dumb but he’d know, damn him. ‘Damon.’ Her own professional voice slid a notch, her pulse stepped up one. She shot a quick glance at Sandy. Thankfully she was busy on her own phone. ‘What can I do for you?’

A pause while he considered her offer. She swore the connection crackled with the possibilities.

‘I’d like to use your local knowledge this afternoon,’ he said, finally. ‘Can you make yourself available at three?’

‘I… Is this work-related?’

‘Of course.’

By the tone in his voice she could almost hear him saying, What else would it be?

What else indeed. She knew he was attracted to her; he just didn’t know they’d already had sex. And he wasn’t getting another chance—Kate Fielding, employee, was off limits. ‘I think I can clear my schedule.’

‘Good. I’ll pick you up.’

As in they were going somewhere? ‘Is it just the two of us?’

‘Yes. Does that bother you?’

Yes. ‘No. Of course not.’

‘Business hours are from eight forty-five to five-thirty, Kate. Anything else…’ He let the sentence hang. A long-drawn-out hiatus.

Oh. Lord. Her heart turned over in her chest as every female cell in her body begged. It was the anything else that bothered her.

She cleared a huskiness from her throat. ‘Fine.’

‘Okay, see you in a while.’

Tugging off her phone headset, she sagged back against her chair feeling as if she’d run the Sydney marathon. She hoped they were through whatever it was they were doing by five-thirty. After hours was too damn dangerous.

Kate shut down her computer and grabbed her bag the moment she saw Damon climbing out of a silver BMW in front of the office. For reasons she didn’t care to think about she didn’t want Damon greeting her with an audience hanging on their every word.

‘Any problems, Sandy, ring my mobile,’ she said on her way past.

‘Try to be nice,’ Sandy suggested. ‘We want to keep him.’

A cool wind with the scent of rain greeted her as she stepped outside. Damon cast a lingering glance over her professional black pant-suit and white blouse, almost a duplicate of his black leather jacket, white open-necked shirt and casual trousers, then grinned as he opened the passenger door. ‘Perfect match.’

He waited while she slid onto the seat and swung her legs inside, then closed the door.

She gave him the same once-over as he rounded the bonnet. Yes—unfortunately they coordinated like a couple who’d dressed in sync. The image of them sharing a bedroom and selecting clothes together sent a wave of heat through her. ‘I thought it was my local expertise you needed,’ she said as he switched on the ignition and the car purred into life.

‘And so it is. We’ll be walking a bit if the weather holds; I hope you’re wearing comfortable shoes.’

‘You know I am.’ He’d had a good long look at her low-heeled, comfortable shoes. Grandma shoes. A hip problem she’d had since birth made wearing the feminine high heels she longed for an impossibility if she didn’t want to endure the pain and discomfort it entailed. She changed the subject. ‘Expensive car you’re driving. You’re renting it while you’re here?’ Or was he spending up on his inheritance already?