Return of the Italian Tycoon

THIS ISN’T GOOD. Not good at all.

Kayla pressed Save on the computer. She needed to give Mr. Amatucci some space. She reached for her wallet to go buy a—a—a cocoa. Yes, that would suit the weather outside perfectly.

She got to her feet wh

en her boss slammed down the phone. He raked his fingers through his short hair and glanced at her. “Sorry about that. Where were we?”

The weariness in his voice tugged at her sympathies. “Um...well, I thought that I’d go get some um...cocoa—”

“The Van Holsen account. We were talking about how we need to put a rush on it.”

“Um...sure.” She sat back down.

Kayla wasn’t sure how to act. She’d never before witnessed her boss seriously lose it. And who exactly was Marianna? Was it possible Mr. Amatucci really did have a life outside this office—one nobody knew about? The thought had her fighting back a frown. Why should it bother her to think that her boss might have fathered a baby with this woman? It wasn’t as if they were anything more than employee and employer.

Mr. Amatucci stepped up to her desk. “I’ll need to go over this with you tomorrow afternoon.”

“Tomorrow?”

She knew that he asked for the impossible at times and this happened to be one of those times. He’d caught her totally off guard. It’d take time to think out innovative ideas for the new campaign platform. And she had an important meeting that night, but there was no way she was telling her boss about that.

Mr. Amatucci arched a brow at her. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“Uh...no. No problem.” She would not let this opportunity pass her by. “I’ll just finish up what I was working on, and I’ll get started.”

He paused as though considering her answer. “On second thought, it’d be best to go over your ideas first thing in the morning.”

“The morning?”

His gaze narrowed in on her, and she wished that her thoughts would quit slipping across her tongue and out her mouth. It certainly wasn’t helping this situation. She was here to impress him with her capabilities, not to annoy him when he was obviously already in a bad mood.

“Ms. Hill, you seem to be repeating what I say. Is there some sort of problem I should be aware of?”

She hated that he always called her Ms. Hill. Couldn’t he be like everyone else in the office and call her Kayla? But then again, she was talking about Angelo Amatucci—he was unlike anyone she’d ever known.

He was the first man to set her stomach aquiver without so much as touching her. She’d been so aware of his mouth being just a breath away from her neck as he’d sniffed her perfume. The memory was still fresh in her mind. Was it so wrong that she hadn’t wanted that moment to end?

Of course it was. She swallowed hard. He was her boss, not just some guy she’d met at a friend’s place. There could never be anything serious between them—not that he’d ever even noticed her as a desirable woman.

“Ms. Hill?”

“No, there won’t be a...uh...problem.” Who was she kidding? This was going to be a big problem, but she’d work it out—somehow—some way.

Her gaze moved to the windows and the darkening sky. With it only nearing the lunch hour, it shouldn’t be so dark, which could only mean that they were going to get pounded with more snow. The thought of getting stuck at the office turned her nervous stomach nauseous.

Snow. Snow. Go away.

He gazed at her. “I didn’t mean to snap at you—”

“I understand. You’ve got a lot on your mind.”

“Thank you.”

His gaze continued to hold hers. The dark depths of his eyes held a mystery—the story of the real man behind the designer suits and the Rolex watches. She had to admit that she was quite curious about him—more than any employee had a right to about her very handsome, very single boss. And that odd phone call only made her all the more curious. Maybe he wasn’t as single as she’d presumed. The jagged thought lodged in her throat.

Mr. Amatucci’s steady gaze met hers. “You’re sure you’re up for this project?”

She pressed her lips together, no longer trusting her mouth, and nodded. She’d have to reschedule tonight’s meeting for the fund-raiser.