Whisked Away by Her Millionaire Boss

‘That’s great.’

It was great—so why did his voice sound a little bit hollow? Yet more emotions slam-dunked him: sadness, regret, disappointment... No way. Because that made no sense at all. It was definitely time for Sarah and Jodie to move out and then his life could get back to normal. In the meantime...

‘I was thinking we should celebrate your first week at work. Maybe we could go out tomorrow night?’

‘Actually, I’d like to cook you a thank-you meal.’

‘That’s a plan.’

* * *

Sarah had told herself that she shouldn’t be looking forward to this evening, but she was—and there didn’t seem to be a damn thing she could do about it. Ever since she’d woken up in the morning she’d been giddy with anticipation—just as bad as Jodie, in fact. The two of them had been fizzing with happiness.

And now she was standing in the state-of-the-art kitchen ready to prepare a meal that she hoped would convey her—

She stopped mid-thought. Convey her what, exactly? Her thanks for asking her and her daughter to stay. No more, no less.

Time flew as she chopped and prepared, steamed, simmered, caramelised and stirred, until the kitchen was filled with delicate and tantalising smells. Then she showered, changed into a simple fitted monochrome print dress and arranged her hair in a mass on top of her head. Returning to the kitchen, she heard his footsteps and her heart began to pound. The beat echoed in her ears as the door opened and Ben entered.

He was wearing a suit today, a dark grey jacket over a blue shirt that echoed his eyes.

Only now did she realise how effective a chaperone her daughter had been. In Jodie’s presence she’d been able to dam the attraction, not wanting her daughter to pick up on any suggestion that Ben might play the role of the handsome prince. But now a swell of attraction surged and threatened that dam.

It took all her willpower not to run straight at him and rip the damned shirt off. Instead, she turned her attention to the champagne she’d bought. She popped it open and poured frothing bubbles into two flutes.

‘Cheers—and congratulations on your first week!’ said Ben.

‘Thank you.’

Silence reigned.

So how was your day?’ she asked, and then wished she could swallow the words. They were way too domestic.

‘Good. Yours?’

‘Good as well.’

‘I bet Jodie was happy all the way to school.’

‘Ecstatic.’

They both sipped in further silence.

‘The food smells amazing.’

‘Thank you. I hope it tastes as good.’

This was ridiculous; it was as if they were strangers.

The ping of the oven broke the awkwardness and gave them both something to do as they carried the food out to the dining room, where she’d set the table, having bought flowers for the centrepiece.

‘This is beautiful,’ he said. ‘You must have spent ages on it.’

‘I wanted it to be special. It was so kind of you to let us stay here, especially when I know it has made it easier for Mum as well.’ She gestured to the food. ‘Help yourself.’

To her relief, the en croute dish was cooked to perfection, and for a moment they both savoured the perfect combination of pastry and tender flakes of salmon.

Ben glanced across at her. ‘Speaking of which—now Jodie isn’t here I’ve got a chance to ask about your dad. How is he doin