Hot Boss, Wicked Nights

Sandy rounded her desk and sidled up to Kate, fanning a hand in front of her face. ‘Well, well, well.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘A little office romance, Kate?’

‘Who?’ Kate said, straightening her suit jacket and feigning ignorance. But her pulse was already one guilty step ahead of her.

‘You and Damon Gillespie.’ She darted ahead of Kate, hitched herself on the edge of Kate’s desk, her straight skirt riding up her thighs. ‘And here I was thinking you couldn’t stand the man.’ She leaned forward with a conspiratorial grin. ‘Tell me all.’

Kate smoothed damp palms down the front of her own skirt and forced herself to walk unhurriedly to her desk. ‘There’s nothing to tell. We inspected a few agencies in the area.’ Then, in case Damon had already mentioned it, she said, ‘Followed by a bite to eat.’

‘A bite.’ Sandy smirked and Kate wondered if Damon had left a mark on her neck at some stage and tried to swallow over a dry throat.

‘Yes.’

‘Are you sure you’re not leaving out a teensy tiny detail?’

‘No,’ she stated emphatically. ‘Even if what you’re implying were true, which it’s not, it couldn’t be an office romance because he doesn’t work here…’ She trailed off as she came around to the front of her desk. There was a staff memo printed under the office logo requesting she attend an eight-thirty staff meeting. Personally signed by Damon Gillespie.

On top she saw her gold earrings attached with sticky tape to a neon-green note with the damning words, ‘You forgot these last night. D.’ Obviously Sandy had been busy this morning. Minding other people’s business.

‘It’s not what you think,’ she began, snatching up the offending jewellery and crushing the incriminating note in her fist as heat rushed to her cheeks.

‘And who the hell does he think he is, demanding a staff meeting?’ she rushed on, fired up now and ready to detonate something or someone, and Damon was top of her list. ‘He’s not a member of our team, and, besides, he’s not staying.’ The staff meeting was her job—it had been her job for years—and she already had an agenda ready to roll. ‘Where’s Bill? And Maureen doesn’t start till ten—’

‘Morning, Kate.’ The sound of Damon’s voice behind her made her jump as if she’d been caught dipping her hand in the till. ‘I’ve notified everyone,’ he informed her. ‘They’ll all be here.’

She closed her eyes a moment to pull herself together, then opened them very quickly when she felt firm hands squeeze her shoulders once. ‘Don’t stress, Miz Fielding, it’s all under control.’

All under his control. Annoyance prickled along her skin. She refrained from the immediate urge to shake him off, since the action would only make her look like the bad guy and give the wide-eyed Sandy even more to gossip about. She didn’t want his hands on her, it made her remember, muddled her thoughts and she wanted to stay mad. If she was angry at least it gave her the feeling that she was in control.

Bill and Maureen arrived at the same time with a chorus of, ‘Good morning, Damon.’

‘Good morning, all. If you want to grab a coffee first, we’ll get started.’

Inside, Kate steamed at his presumption, but she forced a cardboard smile at the staff as a couple headed for the small kitchenette and Damon’s Big Coffee Machine while the others walked to the meeting room.

Since he was behind her, she didn’t turn and look at him until she’d collected her composure along with her notepad and pen and by then he was already walking towards the staffroom. She might be humming with indignance, but her stupid pulse jittered at the sight of his broad shoulders filling the short corridor and the way the black jersey stretched tight across his back… She gaped at the sight.

Black T-shirt and those jungle-green cargo pants—the ones he’d worn Saturday night. For a staff meeting! What had happened to the expensive suit he’d worn on Monday? It must have been a fluke—obviously he had no idea about appropriate dress code. Or he didn’t give a damn.

She compressed her lips into a hard line as she followed, not noticing his masculine scent wafting behind him. Not seeing the glint of auburn in his hair as he passed beneath the corridor’s fluorescent light, nor the sexy strip of tanned neck that tempted her beyond reason.

She wanted to pull him aside and tell him a lot of things, starting with how he so wasn’t qualified to conduct this meeting. How he shouldn’t be wearing those unsuitable pants—even if his butt did fill them out to perfection. Heat washed through her as she remembered the rough texture against her palms. Against her inner thighs…