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‘Way to go, Meg,’ she mumbled, thrilled at the thought of any woman getting the better of her suave boss.
‘I beg your pardon?’
Resisting the urge to imitate his plummy tone, Sam schooled her face into what she hoped was a mask of respect. ‘Nothing. Should I get started on my first assignment?’ She pointedly stared at the thong in his hand.
‘Forget it.’ He scrunched and flung it across the room, where it landed neatly in the bin. ‘As of now, your duties will consist of business affairs only. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. Consider this room off-limits.’
Fine with her. The less time she spent around the semi-naked tyrant, the better. In fact, everything about the job had worked in her favour to date and she hoped her luck would hold out.
Fixing a placating smile on her face, she nodded. ‘Certainly. Where would you like me to start?’
He stared at her for an interminable moment, before turning away and heading to the bathroom. ‘Meet me in the study in fifteen minutes. We’ll discuss today’s agenda then.’
Feeling suitably dismissed, she gave a mock salute behind his back and headed for the door.
‘Oh, Samantha. There’s one more thing.’ His commanding tone halted her and she swivelled to face him. ‘Lose the uniform.’
‘Now?’ The response slipped out before she knew it, typical of the feisty banter she was used to exchanging with her brothers’ friends, who were like family. However, Dylan’s response was far from familial.
He strolled across the room and leaned a hand on the door, effectively barring her escape. ‘Since when did the hired help get so provocative?’ His gaze skimmed her face before dropping lower, sending her heart galloping at breakneck speed.
‘Since when did the employer think he could ask questions like that?’ She stilled as he reached towards her and ran a finger down her cheek, sending her nerve endings haywire in the process.
‘Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to answer a question with a question?’ His finger dropped away as it reached her jaw and, strangely, she missed his brief touch.
‘No, but she taught me to stay away from men like you.’ She tilted her chin up, determined not to let him see how he affected her.
‘Men like me?’ He folded his arms, drawing attention to his broad, naked expanse of chest.
Her mouth dried as her gaze strayed to his pecs, noting a light smattering of dark hair that attracted rather than repelled. Swallowing, she looked him in the eyes, hoping her interest didn’t show. ‘You know. Egotistical, over-confident, world-beaters. Used to getting what they want and letting nothing or nobody stand in their way.’
He smiled, the self-satisfied grin of a cat toying with a mouse. ‘Didn’t know I was so transparent. Lucky my butler has a degree in psychology as well as servitude. What other talents are you hiding?’
Sam bit back a host of retorts. Thankfully, her mouth and brain had finally decided to work in sync. ‘None. Now that we’ve got you sorted out, perhaps I should make a start on the rest of that servitude stuff and organise breakfast in the study for our meeting?’ She had to escape and soon. Having her sexy, bare-chested boss standing too close for comfort was doing strange things to her insides. Not to mention addling her brain.
The warmth drained from his face in an instant and she wondered at the abrupt change. ‘Fine. See you there.’
He opened the door and she brushed past him on her way out, wishing he didn’t look and smell so darn good. Just her luck that her new boss would be thirty-something and gorgeous rather than ancient and decrepit like most of the rich landowners in Australia.
‘One more thing, Samantha.’ His serious tone stopped her.
‘Yes?’ She turned to see him framed in the doorway, looking every bit the consummate millionaire, even without clothes.
‘Welcome to the Harmon world.’
Before she could respond he closed the door, leaving her with a distinct feeling that while he’d welcomed her to his world, he’d just turned hers upside down.
Dylan stalked into his mother’s sitting room after a brief knock on the door.
Liz Harmon looked up from the newspaper she had spread across the table. ‘Good morning, darling. Sleep well?’
With a perfunctory nod, he sat opposite her. ‘I met the butler.’
His mother’s face lit up. ‘Isn’t Sam wonderful? She came highly recommended.’
‘From where? Butlers-R-Us?’
‘Don’t take that tone with me, young man. What seems to be the problem?’
Dylan fiddled with the knife-edge crease of his trousers. ‘She’s totally unsuitable. Too young, too feisty, too—’
‘Beautiful?’ Liz interrupted. ‘You did notice, didn’t you, or has all work and no play made you a dull boy?’
A vision of Sam flashed into his mind, those startling green eyes staring at him as he’d touched her silky-soft cheek. Thankfully, she’d been looking at his face and not lower, where the evidence of how she’d affected him would have been plain to see beneath the cotton towel.
‘I noticed,’ he said, wondering if it sounded like the understatement of the year. ‘Though what her looks have to do with it, I’ll never know. It’s her qualifications I’m interested in.’
Liz nodded and gave him one of those knowing smiles, the kind she’d been bestowing since he’d eaten his first bug against her instructions and thrown up, at four years of age. ‘She came highly recommended. I spoke with Ebony Larkin, her main referee.’
His eyebrows shot up. ‘She’s worked for the Larkins?’
Liz nodded. ‘Trust me, darling. I wouldn’t have hired just anybody to be your butler. I know how much you need the help.’
‘I’m doing fine on my own, Mum.’
‘No, you’re not. Between running the business, inspecting the lands around Budgeree and looking after the family, you’re worn out.’ She paused and he waited for the inevitable reference to his single status. Predictably, his mother didn’t disappoint. ‘Besides, you never have time for fun any more. When are you going to meet a nice young woman to make your life complete?’
‘My life is complete and I like it just the way it is, thanks very much.’ He ignored the swift rising bitterness whenever the subject of women entered their conversations. He’d tried the relationship merry-go-round and had hopped off as soon as humanly possible, managing to get his heart trampled in the process. As far as he was concerned, women and serious commitment didn’t belong in the same sentence, especially with females who looked good, had the right family credentials yet lied through their expensively-capped teeth to get what they wanted. Which, in his case, happened to be the Harmon name and fortune.
And he’d worked too damn hard to let his family’s wealth fall into unscrupulous hands.
‘You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, Son. You’ve taken this business to the next level all on your own.’
‘But Dad would’ve wanted more.’ Hell, his ambitious father wouldn’t have stopped till he owned the whole of Victoria and then some.
‘He would’ve wanted you to be happy, not running yourself into the ground.’ She didn’t have to add, like he did.
His workaholic father had taken the word ‘work’ to new levels, driving himself to skyrocketing profit margins but into an early grave in the process. Dylan still missed him after ten years.
‘Besides, don’t you think you’re taking the role of family protector a tad too seriously? Most of us can take care of ourselves, you know.’
Dylan rolled his eyes. ‘Yeah, sure. Then why is Meg running around placing racy underwear in my drawer? And why is Allie traipsing round the world like a lost soul?’ He stared at his mother, noting her wrinkle-free skin, the clear eyes, the black hair with barely a grey streak. ‘Not to mention you.’
The corners of Liz’s mouth twitched. ‘Your nieces are more than capable of taking care of themselves. Besides, what have I done?’
He tried a frown and failed. ‘You’re trying to matchmake yet again. And I’m not interested.’
His mother smirked. ‘I’m not trying anything. If you’ve got romantic thoughts where the new butler is concerned, that’s not my doing.’
‘The butler?’ Sam Piper and him, romantically linked? Not a hope in hell. He shook his head, trying to ignore her alluring image again. ‘No, Mum, I was talking about Monique and that dinner party you’ve organised. Didn’t you think I’d see through the ruse?’
This time Liz laughed outright. ‘You’re getting paranoid, love. There’s no ruse, no hidden agendas. I just thought it was time we got together with our oldest family friends. If you find Monique attractive, that’s up to you.’
Funnily enough, the thought of spending a sophisticated evening dining with the exquisite Monique Taylor and her parents didn’t hold half the appeal it once had. He’d grown up with the leggy brunette and had dabbled in a kiss or two once they’d reached their late teens, but he’d never been interested in taking it further. Though Monique was beautiful, educated and attuned to his world, there was no spark to light his fire. Not that she hadn’t tried, many times.
Dylan relented. ‘Okay, it will be nice to catch up with the Taylors but, just to let you know, there won’t be any romance between Monique and I, ever. She isn’t my type.’
His mother was no slouch when it came to matchmaking her only son and she latched on to his last words in a flash. ‘Oh? Then what is your type?’
A petite woman, with short blonde curls, green eyes he could drown in and a cheeky smile that just wouldn’t quit. The thought popped unbidden into his mind and, for the umpteenth time in the last half hour, he wondered if he’d lost a grip on reality since he’d laid eyes on his new butler.
He stood quickly and made for the door. ‘Bye, Mum. I have a meeting scheduled.’
Liz smiled knowingly. ‘Run all you like, Son, but you can’t hide from love for ever.’
Dylan refrained from answering. The day he fell in love would be the day he surrendered his sanity and he had no intention of doing that. He had too much to do yet to fulfil his dad’s wishes, the one driving force that kept him going these days.
Him, in love? No way.
CHAPTER TWO
SAM paced the study while waiting for Dylan. She couldn’t believe the way she’d reacted to him—stupid, stupid, stupid! She’d known what she was letting herself in for when she had applied for this job. After all, she’d heard about Dylan’s charms firsthand from Ebony, whose family had known the Harmons for ever. Ebony had extolled high-and-mighty Dylan’s virtues for a full hour before Sam had covered her ears and yelled ‘la-la-la’. If she’d heard one more word about the rich, handsome, responsible, caring man soon to be her boss, she would’ve thrown up.
So, she’d steeled herself for the challenge at hand, knowing that Dylan’s looks would have little effect if she set her mind to doing a good job to prove a point to her snobby family. She’d focused all her energy on taking a crash course on butler etiquette, Ebony-style. Thankfully, her best friend had come through for her in every way, going as far as giving her a fake reference when Liz Harmon had called after the gruelling interview she’d endured.
Now that she was here at the Harmon mansion in the posh Melbourne suburb of Toorak, she should be ecstatic. If she could last the distance in this job it would prove to her family once and for all that she could eke out an existence for herself, without their prehistoric expectations for her to marry and produce heirs to continue the royal line. Not that her title meant anything here in Australia; in fact, most of her Russian ancestors had reneged on their royal heritage a century ago, but not her family. They were hell-bent on resurrecting the past and restoring glory to the Popov name. Strangely, many historians here were interested in the Popovs too, which was why she’d had the sense to change her surname when applying for this job.
‘So much for obeying orders.’
Sam jumped as Dylan’s voice interrupted her musings and she whirled to face him. ‘I’m here on time, I’ve kept out of your bedroom and breakfast is waiting.’ She gestured to the sideboard. ‘What else did you want?’
He strode across the room and helped himself to a piece of toast and a cup of coffee before sitting behind a large mahogany desk. ‘I thought I told you to lose that uniform.’
She frowned, as memories of their intense exchange in his bedroom flooded back. ‘I don’t think we agreed on that.’
‘You’re right. We didn’t get to finish that conversation, did we?’ He stared at her over the rim of his cup and she could have sworn she read desire in his eyes.
Great. Despite her mental pep talk a few minutes earlier she still harboured ridiculous fantasies where her spunky boss was concerned. He could have any woman in the world and she thought she’d captured his interest in half an hour? Yeah, right.
‘I thought all your staff wore uniforms.’ She tried her best to look demure, clasping her hands behind her back. How she’d last more than a week in this subservient act, she’d never know. For some strange reason this man brought out the worst in her. She felt compelled to trade quips with him, to ruffle his oh-so-suave feathers, to get the better of him in any exchange.
He placed his cup on the desk and rested steepled fingers on his chest. ‘Not my personal assistant.’
‘I’m your butler, not your PA.’ Somehow, the title of PA conjured all sorts of vivid images of how personal she could get with the delectable Dylan.
‘You’ve just been promoted. If you’re up to it, that is.’
He’d done it again, known exactly how to push her buttons. As if she would ever back down from any challenge he threw at her.
‘So you’re that impressed with me, huh?’
He shook his head. ‘No need to fish for compliments, Samantha. I’ve read your rеsumе and I’m intrigued. Why would a woman with a degree in economics want to work as a butler? And, even better, work for a man with a reputation for being a hard taskmaster?’
She squared her shoulders and hoped that the little white lies she had to tell to keep this job wouldn’t show on her face. ‘I enjoy a challenge. Working for someone with your vast experience in the business world will be a bonus, if and when I decide to enter that field.’ She hoped her answer would satisfy his curiosity—when in doubt, flatter.
He quirked an eyebrow. ‘You’re not some kind of spy, are you?’
Sam sighed. ‘Your mother checked out my credentials and I’m sure you’ve discussed my appointment with her by now. What do you think?’
‘I think that if you’re half as good as your rеsumе says you are, you’d be perfect as my PA. So, what do you say?’
Okay, she wasn’t completely stupid. Being Dylan’s personal assistant would be a heck of a lot more interesting than bowing and scraping to him and a lot less damaging. After all, she had a lot less chance of seeing him almost naked as his PA than as his butler. ‘I accept. Thanks for the opportunity.’
He nodded his approval. ‘Good. Now that’s settled, let’s get started. I need to dictate some letters that need to be sent ASAP. While I do that, you can sort through this pile of invoices. In monthly and alphabetical order please, with the most urgent bills to be paid uppermost.’
She took the pile and seated herself opposite him, thankful for the huge desk. No chance of accidental contact across a great divide of mahogany, though there’d been nothing accidental about the way he’d caressed her cheek earlier that morning. Though she tried to concentrate on the task at hand, she couldn’t resist sneaking a peek as he spoke into a Dictaphone, his low tones soothing her. He’d dressed in the outfit she’d predicted earlier, though it looked a heck of a lot better on the man than on a hanger.
Visions of their morning interlude drifted into her mind and, before she knew it, she’d mentally undressed him down to the skimpy towel he’d worn as he’d strolled into his bedroom looking a million dollars. How she’d managed to maintain composure, she’d never know. At least those boring drama classes at high school had been good for something. Old Mrs Lincoln would have been proud of her You don’t affect me one bit performance she’d given Dylan that morning.
At that moment, the man in question hit the ‘stop’ button and looked up.
‘Having trouble keeping up?’ He pointedly stared at the pile of invoices in front of her and raised an eyebrow.
Fighting a losing battle with a rising heat that flooded her cheeks, she shook her head. ‘Sorry. I was just thinking.’ Lame, even by her standards, but what could she do when the object of her lustful fantasy was glaring at her with those dark eyes that screamed, Come and get me?
‘About what? Some old boyfriend you’ve left behind in Sydney?’
‘I’m not from Sydney.’ She responded without thinking and, predictably, he pounced on her answer.
‘But I thought you’d been working for the Larkins?’ His stare intensified, leaving her squirming like a bug under a ten-year-old’s magnifying glass in the sun.
Crossing her fingers behind her back, she hoped her voice remained steady. ‘I was, but I’m from Brisbane originally.’
‘Ah.’ Before she could breathe a sigh of relief, he continued, ‘So, what about the boyfriend?’
For a moment, she hoped he was asking out of interest in her as an available woman, before reality set in. The likes of Dylan Harmon would never be interested in the hired help, unless it was for one thing. And she had no intention of making that bed or lying in it.
‘You’re my boss, not my owner. My private life is none of your business.’ She folded her arms in a purely defensive gesture, wishing she could ignore that probing stare. Unfortunately, her action drew his stare downwards before he quickly returned his gaze to her face.
‘That’s where you’re wrong. You’ll be spending a lot of time travelling between our outback property and Melbourne, with little time off for socialising. I need to know that you’re one hundred per cent committed to this job. Otherwise, I’ll find someone else.’ He picked up a pen and tapped it against the desk, as though impatiently awaiting her answer.
Though it went against the grain, she had to tell him about her private life—or lack of one. She needed this job and she hadn’t come this far to lose it now. ‘There’s no one special in my life at the moment. You’ll have my entire focus for the time I’m employed.’
His face softened at her response. ‘Good. I need all your attention…for the tasks at hand.’
His pause, combined with the subtle change in body language as he leaned towards her, sent her imagination spiralling out of control again. She stared at him, caught in the hypnotic intensity of his smouldering eyes, wanting to look away yet powerless to do so. If she didn’t know better, she could have sworn that he felt the bizarre attraction she’d conjured up out of thin air too.
‘Are you free tonight?’
