Hired by Mr. Right

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She blinked and resisted the impulse to nod like a schoolgirl being asked out on her first date. ‘That depends on you.’

He smiled, the rare flash of brilliance illuminating his face and sending her heart hammering in her chest. ‘Oh, really? How so?’

Ignoring her pounding pulse and wondering how she could control her treacherous reactions to her handsome boss, she said, ‘I didn’t know the hours I’d be expected to work. Your mother suggested I discuss it with you.’

‘So, if I say I need you tonight, you’re mine for the evening?’

Oh-oh. She didn’t need this sort of encouragement. Her overactive imagination was doing fine on its own, thank you very much, without help from his innuendo.

She cleared her throat. ‘As your butler, I would’ve expected to work evenings. As your PA, I thought most work could be accomplished during the day.’

His smile broadened, if that were possible. ‘Not for what I have in mind.’

Thankfully, the intercom buzzed on his desk, saving her from answering. She took a deep breath and wondered if he played word games with all his female staff. Was he actually flirting with her or was her limited experience with men rearing its head?

Dylan hit the speaker button. ‘Yes, Mum?’

Liz Harmon’s voice filtered through the intercom. ‘I was wondering if you could spare Sam for a moment? I need to discuss a few things with her.’

He looked up at his new personal assistant, who had her head bent over the stack of invoices and was sorting them into several neat piles as if her life depended on it. ‘Sure, as long as it doesn’t take too long. I’ve upgraded her position from butler to PA and we have a mountain of work to get through.’

His mother chuckled. ‘This, from the man who said he didn’t need help?’

He studied the way Sam’s hair fell in loose curls around her face, the slight frown that marred her smooth forehead, the flicker of her tongue as it darted out to moisten her top lip. He’d noticed she’d done that earlier, when he’d first strolled out of the bathroom and seen her standing in his bedroom, and several times since; he assumed it was a nervous reaction, though it sure as hell drove him crazy every time she did it. How could such an innocuous movement elicit the wayward thoughts he’d been experiencing about what the gorgeous Sam’s tongue could be doing to him?

‘Dylan, you still there?’

Wrenching his thoughts out of the gutter, he replied, ‘Yes, Mum. I’ll send Samantha right up.’

‘Thanks. Oh, and by the way, you’re welcome.’

He smiled as his mother’s chuckles petered out and he disconnected. ‘Leave those for now. You can get back to it later.’

Sam looked up and, once again, the luminous green of her eyes hit him like a blow to the solar plexus. It wasn’t the colour so much as the clarity that shone like a beacon, beckoning him to challenge her, taunt her, flirt with her, anything to get her looking at him with more than a passing interest from an employee for her boss. That was what had prompted him to offer her the job as his personal assistant—the more time she spent in his company, the more chance she might look at him with the spark he’d glimpsed when he’d caressed her cheek that morning. That one, fleeting flare of fire in her eyes had aroused him more than any other woman had in a long, long time.

She stood up and he had a chance to admire the snug fit of the uniform. He had a real hankering to see her without it—hell, he wished he could see her trim body with nothing at all—but, right now, he’d settle for anything else in her wardrobe. For some strange reason she had too much poise, too much class, to be wearing a uniform and he didn’t need any reminder of her status as his employee. If he had his way she’d be far more than that by the end of her three month stint; it had been far too long since he’d had a lover.

‘About my working hours?’

He resisted the urge to shake his head; ever since she’d walked into his life this morning, his mind had been enveloped in a fog that clouded his every thought. Even now, he could barely remember what they’d been discussing before his mother had interrupted.

‘We’ll discuss it later.’ He waved her away, noting the stiffening of her shoulders, the straightening of her spine. Once again, it hit him that she didn’t like taking orders and he wondered what on earth had prompted her to take this job. Something about Sam Piper didn’t ring true and, lovely as she was, he had every intention of finding out exactly what secrets she hid behind that sexy fa?ade.

‘Fine.’ She nodded before turning on her heel and walking towards the door, giving him free rein to ogle her slim legs and tantalising butt.

Though she’d said everything was fine, he seriously doubted it. Her rigid posture screamed that it wasn’t, not by a long shot. And, if his confused libido were anything to go by, he’d have to agree.

Sam slowly exhaled as she closed the study door. She must be insane to contemplate going through with her plan if she couldn’t even last the morning in Dylan’s company. Heck, could he see how she practically swooned when he smiled at her? And, as for his asking if she was free tonight, she’d had to restrain herself from leaping over the desk and straight on to his lap!

Men had never affected her this way; she’d always managed to keep her relationships strictly platonic, preferring male friends to the groping Neanderthals that some of her dates had turned into at the slightest encouragement. Even some of the ‘pillars of society’ that her brothers had set her up with had turned out to be marauding sex maniacs and she’d managed to avoid their embarrassing advances with aplomb. So maybe that made her na?ve when it came to men, but did it totally explain her over-the-top reaction to Dylan?

What made him so special that every self-preservation mechanism she’d ever used seemed to malfunction whenever he so much as looked at her? Whatever it was, she needed to get a handle on it quick smart. Heck, that was all she needed, her new boss to think she had some childish crush on him.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door to Liz Harmon’s sitting room.

‘Come in, Sam.’

Sam opened the door, wondering what the older woman could want. After the initial interview they hadn’t crossed paths, though she’d taken an instant liking to the elegant Liz.

‘You wanted to see me, Mrs Harmon?’

Liz waved towards a chair. ‘Take a seat, child. And please, call me Liz.’

Keeping her surprise from showing, Sam perched on the overstuffed chair and folded her hands in her lap.

Liz reached for a leather-bound book on a nearby table and opened it. ‘I know all about you, dear.’

She fixed Sam with a piercing stare, leaving her in little doubt as to what she meant. Sam clenched her hands till the knuckles whitened, trying to buy valuable time to compose an answer that wouldn’t incriminate yet sounded honest at the same time.

However, Liz continued before she had the chance to speak. ‘There was something about you that looked familiar at the interview, so I followed a hunch. I’m a great fan of history, you know.’

In that instant, any hope Sam harboured that the older lady was just fishing for information vanished. Schooling her features into a polite mask, she said, ‘I can explain—’

‘Please.’ Liz held up her hand. ‘Indulge an old lady for a moment.’ She flicked a few pages before stopping at what looked like a family tree and tracing a line with her finger. ‘You must be Princess Samantha Popov. Am I correct?’ She looked up expectantly, not a trace of anger on her face.

Sam didn’t know where to look, an embarrassed heat flooding her cheeks. She’d been caught out in her lie and on the first day! She nodded, not quite understanding the excited look on the other woman’s face. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry for lying to you but I really needed this job.’ She stood quickly, wishing the Persian rug beneath her feet would disappear and the ground underneath would open up and swallow her. ‘I’ll pack my things and be out of your way as soon as possible.’

Liz slammed the book shut, sending a cloud of dust into the air. ‘Don’t be hasty, child. We have so much to talk about.’

Sam shook her head in bewilderment. If Liz had appeared excited a moment ago, she now looked downright ecstatic. ‘I don’t understand. You want me to stay?’

Liz waved her back to the chair she’d just vacated. ‘Of course. I’m sure you had a very good reason for lying to obtain this job and I want to hear it. I also want to hear every last detail of your story, without a single omission.’

‘So, I’m not fired?’ Sam held her breath, praying for a miracle yet knowing they rarely happened, at least to her.

‘Fired? My dear, you’ve just made my day.’

‘How so?’

Liz grinned, the expression on her face rivalling that of a child on Christmas Day. ‘If my son thought finding an attractive woman as his butler was a surprise, wait till he finds out I chose him a princess to boot!’

Sam’s heart plummeted. If Dylan found out her background she’d be out of the Harmon mansion so fast her head would spin. She needed to stay, at least till the trial three months were up. Anything less and her family wouldn’t be convinced she could make it on her own and she’d be back to square one, enduring their rigid conditions and stipulations regarding her life.

Right now, she needed to convince Liz Harmon that keeping her identity a secret was the best thing for all concerned, even if it meant keeping it from her precious son. Taking a steadying breath, she looked up and met the older lady’s gaze directly. Seeing the twinkle in her eye, she hoped to God that Liz wanted in on the secret, otherwise she’d be back in Brisbane and pledged to some ancient groom before she could blink.

Tied to some fossil in matrimony because it suited her royal parents and their antiquated ideas? Uh-uh.

Liz leaned forward. ‘Start at the beginning, dear. And tell me everything.’

Resisting the urge to grimace, Sam did as she was told.

CHAPTER THREE

SAM hated confusion. She preferred order, precision and being in control. However, as she joined Dylan for a late night supper in his study so they could continue working, she knew that her preferences had flown straight out the window following her meeting with his mother. Rather than berating her for lying and sacking her, as she’d expected, Liz Harmon had almost clapped her hands in glee as Sam regaled her with a truthful account of her life to date. In fact, the older woman had been only too pleased to keep Sam’s secret so she could continue in her farcical role as Dylan’s PA.

But why? Sam needed to know people’s motivations; it was the only way to stay one step ahead. However, she had no intention of giving Liz Harmon the third degree when the woman had done her a huge favour. In fact, for someone who barely knew her, Liz had accepted her version of events with few qualms. In her place, Sam knew she wouldn’t have been as trusting.

‘Daydreaming again?’

Sam jumped as Dylan strode into the room and wondered if she’d ever get over the fluttery feeling in her gut whenever her boss came within ten feet of her. In over a week, her absurd physical reaction to the man hadn’t dimmed one iota. If anything, her responses made her want to do all sorts of wild and wicked things, such as strip off and lay across his desk! Maybe then she’d have some hope of grabbing his attention, for that was all he seemed interested in—the endless stream of paperwork crossing his desk, taking up every minute of his day.

She must have imagined his flirtation and innuendo on her first day, for he’d lived up to his reputation as a cold, calculating business tycoon ever since. In fact, his love for the family business bordered on obsession and she wondered if he ever loosened his tie, took off his shoes and took a stroll barefoot in the lush gardens surrounding the mansion. By the serious look on his face as he glared at her, she doubted it.

‘Daydreaming is healthy. You should try it some time.’ She noted the tense neck muscles, the lines around his mouth, the smidgen of dark rings under his eyes and hoped that her banter might lighten his mood.

He piled a plate with club sandwiches and grabbed a caffeine-laden soft drink from the sideboard before responding. ‘Who says I don’t?’

‘You don’t look like the type to indulge in fanciful dreams.’ Heck, he couldn’t look any more uptight if he tried. He wore a different suit, shirt and tie for every day of the week, each outfit expertly tailored but boringly conservative and she’d yet to see him with a hair out of place. Except that first morning in his bedroom—though she’d managed to effectively block out that provocative memory.

He quirked an eyebrow. ‘Daydreams are wasted. Maybe I prefer to indulge in fanciful dreams at night?’

Sam looked up quickly, wondering if she’d imagined his lowered tone, the slight husky edge. He stared at her, dark eyes unreadable, as he took a casual bite out of a tuna and mayonnaise sandwich. She swallowed, trying to ignore the sudden wish that she could replace the sandwich as his supper. She wouldn’t mind him nibbling on her, not one little bit.

Spurred on by the urge to match wits with him, she took a sip of her coffee and feigned innocence. ‘What you do at night is no concern of mine.’

‘Would you like it to be?’

Damn, he was good. Just when she thought she’d got the better of him, he sent her a loaded comeback like that.

Resisting the urge to grin, she said, ‘Depends. I thought I’d worked enough nights lately. There’s only so much typing, filing and bookkeeping a girl can take.’

‘I wasn’t talking about work.’

‘Oh?’ Her heart hammered in her chest as she tried to hide behind her coffee mug. She loved playing games, especially with a man as sharp as Dylan and she wondered how far she could push it, though every ounce of common sense urged her not to match wits with her boss.

‘You’ve been doing a great job, Samantha. I’m pleased with your work and you’ve hardly had a night off since you started. How would you like a tour of Melbourne by night?’ He devoured the last of the sandwiches, concentrating on his plate as if her answer meant nothing to him. However, she noticed he ran a finger around the inside of his tight collar, a gesture she’d noted only when he seemed rattled.

She smiled, her heart threatening to burst out of her chest. ‘Sounds great. Know any good tour operators?’

He looked up and fixed her with a piercing stare, the chocolate depths of his eyes drawing her in, deeper than she’d ever been or intended to go. She could drown in those eyes, spend a lifetime floundering in their mysterious warmth.

‘Why settle for good when you can have the best?’

‘You’re that confident, huh?’

‘You’ll just have to try me and find out.’ He smiled, that killer smile she’d rarely glimpsed since the first day, yet her response had intensified tenfold.

She knew accepting his invitation wasn’t a good idea. It sounded suspiciously like a date and she had no intention of getting involved with her boss. As if her life wasn’t complicated enough. However, she did want to see Melbourne and what better way than a personal tour with a man who set her pulse racing? If the scenery bored her, she could always cast surreptitious glances his way.

‘Okay. I’d like that.’ Who was she trying to kid? She almost had to sit on her hands to prevent herself from clapping like an excited child.

‘Good. I’ll make the arrangements and let you know.’ He stared at her for a moment and, from the intense look in his eyes, she thought he might say something else. However, he merely cleared his throat and picked up a stack of contracts. ‘Let’s get back to these. Now, where were we?’