Yvonne Lindsay

Bedded By The Boss


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for the position.”

      “Er, Miss Daly—” Jill Took rose from her chair, but ceased speaking when her boss raised his hand.

      “Miss Daly, I’ll be frank with you.” His voice was deep, his tone casual. He leaned back in his chair—creak!—and crossed his arms over his chest. Sara couldn’t help noticing how thick his upper arms were, even through the wool of his suit.

      “I’ve had my fill of flighty girls who are here merely to hunt for a husband. Don’t think I flatter myself that I’m the object of their attentions. Frankly, I find them pathetic.”

      He looked down his slightly aquiline nose at her for a second and the full force of his disgust threatened to knock her off her feet.

      “I have a business to run and I will no longer tolerate the foolish behavior of those who have anything other than my business on their mind. For this reason I shall no longer consider young, single women for this position.”

      He leaned forward again—creak!—and picked up a pen off the desk. As if to sign her death warrant. “That will be all, Miss Daly.”

      A rush of exasperation propelled Sara to his desk. She placed her fingertips on the polished mahogany and leaned toward him. Close enough to taste his scent—subtle and masculine—the fragrance of a deodorant soap released by warm, active skin.

      He leaned back slowly, surveying her, arms crossed over his chest. Listening.

      Now she was on the offensive.

      “Mr. Al Mansur, I may be a young, single woman, but, believe me, I have no interests beyond performing this job to the best of my abilities. I am an experienced executive assistant.”

      And a plain little thing. Plain, was she? So much the better. She lifted her chin and fixed her gaze directly on his dark eyes. He narrowed them slightly.

      She sucked in a breath. “Your company is the kind of fast-growing, forward-thinking firm I want to work for. You’ve achieved revenue growth of ten percent a year over the last five years. You’re a leader in exploiting new drilling technologies and reducing environmentally harmful emissions at your drilling sites.”

      She steadied herself, refused to wilt in the heat of his scorching stare. “Your company has won praise for creating a progressive labor-friendly work environment. Praise it may not deserve, given the way I’m being treated. And if you take this job away from me I’ll sue you for reverse age discrimination.”

      As her words reverberated off the stark white walls of his office, she sprang back from the desk. She crossed her arms over her chest, mirrored his defensive gesture. Her assertiveness thrilled her—and appalled her. A lawsuit? She couldn’t even afford a two-piece suit. She was bluffing, but what the heck, she didn’t have much to lose.

      Well, except the position in accounting. Which did still have the same excellent salary and benefits. Recrimination snaked in her gut. She was playing pretty high-stakes poker with her life right now.

      His face tightened as he watched her. His black eyes burned with intensity that sent an icy shiver up her spine. If looks could kill… Perhaps looks could kill? The one he gave her right now seemed to be sapping her life force in an alarming way.

      On second thought, Mr. Al Mansur, perhaps counting a few beans

      “You…” He uttered the single word in a voice so deep it was barely within the human range of hearing.

      He paused, then rose from his chair in a single swift motion.

      “You…” Rage crackled in his throaty speech and sparked in his eyes. He rested a big hand on the desk, amidst the piles of papers and stacks of files that covered its surface. Awareness of his threatening physique cowed her as he leaned across the desk, a muscle working in his jaw. “You—will sue me?

      “It’s not fair. You haven’t given me a chance. You’re firing me for something someone else has done.” She sounded calm and rational, though she felt anything but. “Let me prove to you I can do this job. If you aren’t happy with my performance, then you can transfer me or fire me outright and I won’t complain.”

      He considered her for a moment, brow furrowed. Then he drew himself up and crossed his arms over his chest. He shot a glance at Jill Took, then looked back at Sara with one eyebrow raised.

      “All right, Miss Daly. You shall have one month.”

      She sagged with glorious relief.

      “One month to prove that you can keep your mind focused on your duties.”

      “You won’t be disappointed, sir.” She resisted the urge to add a military salute.

      Her shoulders locked with sudden anxiety as he strode around his desk. Disobeying the instinct to shrink from his approach, she forced herself to stand steady. She took his offered hand and shook it with what she hoped was authoritative firmness. Big and warm, his hand gripped hers for a mere instant.

      And in that instant she realized the magnitude of the challenge before her.

      An invisible shudder rocked her as his skin touched hers. His dark eyes seemed to see right through her, their piercing gaze penetrating to the core of her being. Everything in her pricked up—ears, hair, goose bumps—agonizingly aware of the dangerously male life force before her.

      When she drew her hand back it tingled slightly. Her body flushed with sudden heat that belied the air-conditioned chill of the office. If not for the stiff fabric of her new suit, her newly tightened nipples would be clearly visible.

       What on earth?

      Chemistry? Sara stepped backward, blinking, afraid of the strange sensations surging through her. How could a man she didn’t know—a man she didn’t like at all—have this kind of effect on her?

      Oh, dear.

      She cleared her throat, desperate to get control of her errant body and mind and demonstrate the focused professionalism she’d promised.

      “Will that be all, sir?” She sounded like a movie character. Right now she needed a script.

      She needed to get out of there.

      ASAP.

      Her boss had turned away to rifle through the mess of papers sprawled over his huge desk.

      “Hmph,” he grunted, without looking up. Then he nodded dismissively to the two women. “Thank you.”

      Jill Took rose from her chair and bolted for the door. Sara scurried behind her like a startled rabbit.

      Outside in the spacious annex that held Sara’s desk, Jill turned to her.

      “Sara, what I was saying when you came in, about you being a plain little thing…” Her cheeks turned pink again. “You know I was just trying anything I could think of to get Mr. Al Mansur to change his mind.”

      “Of course.” Sara nodded vigorously, wondering why Jill’s cheeks were so pink if she wasn’t fibbing. “And I appreciate you standing up for me. I won’t let you down.”

      “I know you won’t. I hired you, remember?”

      Sara laughed a little, glad to release some tension.

      Jill lowered her voice. “He’s all right really. It’s just that, well, he’s right, quite honestly. I hired his last two assistants. They appeared to be perfectly capable, suitable employees, very polished and efficient, but they… I don’t know how to explain it. They went gaga over him.” Jill widened her eyes comically.

      Sara blinked and swallowed. She’d tasted a sip of gaga and was still tipsy from it.

      “I mean, he’s a good-looking guy and all,” Jill continued quietly, with a quick glance at the closed door. “But he has some kind of bizarre effect on women that makes them throw themselves at him in the most embarrassing way. I could tell you weren’t