Whisked Away by Her Millionaire Boss

‘I don’t want you to feel as though you have to babysit me.’

His expression was unruffled. ‘I don’t. I saw and was thoroughly impressed by how you held your own at the party.’

She couldn’t help the small smile and the glow of warmth his words brought, even if she wasn’t now sure how to take the conversation further. She knew she was skirting the real issue.

‘Thank you. But you know you didn’t need to come back here; you could have gone on to the next party.’ She took a deep breath and forced herself not to clench her nails into the palm of her hand. ‘With Joanna.’

His calm expression was replaced by sheer bafflement, followed by the dawning of anger as his lips set in a grim line. ‘Joanna Michaels is a fashion buyer for Bramley Trussel. She’s extremely good at her job. I like her, and if she ever wanted to move jobs I’d welcome her at Sahara. As an employee. I was networking. I kissed you a few hours ago—do you really think I am now looking for a woman to “party” with?’

&n

bsp; ‘I don’t know. I mean... That kiss... I know it didn’t mean anything. You kissed me because it would have been rude not to and you wanted to distract me. It’s not like you wanted to kiss me...’

Her voice trailed off as his jaw dropped and he stared at her for a full ten seconds before he shook his head. ‘Do you genuinely believe I didn’t want to kiss you?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said again. It wasn’t as though her experience was extensive.

His lips turned up in a sudden smile. ‘Sarah Fletcher, rest assured that I wanted to kiss you. To be brutally honest, I’ve wanted to kiss you since I first set eyes on you.’

‘You have?’ Perhaps it was politically incorrect or unprofessional, and perhaps it was daft, but she couldn’t help the goofy smile or the ridiculous glow of sheer satisfaction. ‘Then why haven’t you?’

Argh! Not what she had meant to say at all.

Closing her eyes, she said, ‘Please forget I said that.’

A chuckle greeted this. ‘Actually, I’ll answer the question. For a start there is the whole boss-employee situation. Plus, as a general rule of thumb, I don’t go around kissing anyone unless I’m one hundred per cent sure they’re on board with the idea.’ He paused, and then his tone became serious. ‘But there is a lot more to it than that. I have some pretty specific relationship rules as well.’

‘They have to be women like Leila Durante? Women with beauty, fame, wealth?’

‘No.’ Ben shook his head. ‘I do sometimes date models or celebrities, but not because of their status. Leila and I didn’t even make it to the restaurant, remember? And that’s because she broke one of my absolute rules in a relationship. She agreed to an article with a celebrity magazine, featuring the two of us as a couple.’

‘Before you’d even been on a date? Why would she do that?’

‘Who knows?’ His tone implied that he didn’t care. ‘Perhaps it was for publicity—perhaps because she hoped to be the first woman to get me to “commit”. Any which way—it wasn’t going to happen. Because I have no intention of committing.’

‘At all?’

Ben wasn’t even thirty yet—why would he rule out marriage?

‘At all. My relationships are strictly time-limited. That is the rule—the box that must be ticked—and my partner must feel the same, be on the same page as me with her expectations. I only date a woman when I’m sure what I have to offer and what she wants to receive are the same.’

‘You’re making it sound like a trade agreement.’

‘That’s exactly what it is. And when I make a trade agreement I make damn sure it’s watertight.’

There was a silence as Sarah pondered his words. She knew that she should leave it and change the topic of conversation. Instead she swirled the wine in her glass, watching the red liquid eddy, and tried to keep her voice light. ‘Just out of interest, what do you have to offer—and what do you expect to receive? Obviously I’m asking for a friend...’

He gave a quick smile. ‘For a limited period of time I offer fun, in bed and out, and I offer the chance to do anything you want to do.’

In bed and out.

The words echoed between them and her face flushed as images streamed in her imagination: tangled silken sheets, her hands on the hard muscles of his body, the feel of his skin against hers... Whoa. Carefully she placed her glass down, worried she’d miss her mouth if she tried to drink. His dark gaze met hers, and now there was a wicked glint in their depths. As if he could read her mind. As if he matched her thought for thought.

She cleared her throat. ‘And what do you expect in return?’

‘Pretty much the same. I’m a great believer in mutual benefits.’

Now he was undoubtedly teasing her and her eyes narrowed. ‘You expect a fair return on your investment? Someone who gives good...dividends?’