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Her Boss by Day...
Joss Wood
His accountant by day…After a devastating break-up, Willa Moore-Fisher is determined to prove herself. With an honours degree, she’s certainly got the talent. So when international fitness tycoon Rob Hanson needs a new accountant Willa can’t believe her luck. There’s just one problem: she already knows her new boss… intimately!His mistress by night!Brooding bachelor Rob doesn’t do long-term—watching his stepfather destroy his family sealed that fate. Willa might have a head for numbers, but she has a body made for sin. Soon Rob finds himself wondering if he should make his new temp a more permanent fixture in his life!The SYDNEY’S MOST ELIGIBLE…miniseriesThese sexy Sydney tycoons didn’t get to the top by taking the easy way—the only thing they love more than a challenge is a woman who knows her mind!Book 1: Her Boss by Day…by Joss WoodBook 2: The Millionaire’s Proposition by Avril TremayneBook 3: The Tycoon’s Stowaway by Stefanie LondonBook 4: The Hotel Magnate’s Demand by Jennifer RaePraise for Joss WoodCount Valieri’s Prisoner 4.5* TOP PICK RT Book ReviewWood’s tortured hero is believable and compelling, and the story takes readers on a passionate, emotional roller-coaster ride.
‘When I said that I wanted a list of what needed to be done I expected a page or two—not a doctoral thesis.’
Willa shrugged. ‘What can I say? I’m an over-achiever and it was fun … putting my brain and my training to work.’
Rob tapped the folder and held her eyes. ‘Good job, Willa. I’m seriously impressed.’
Willa sucked in her breath, hope shining from her eyes. ‘Impressed enough to give me the job?’
Rob, hoping that he wasn’t making a huge mistake, slowly nodded. ‘Yeah. I’m handing the paperwork over to you.’
Willa shot up so fast that she skidded backwards over the polished wooden floor and did a crazy dance on the spot. ‘Yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes!’
Rob tensed as a bundle of warm, fragrant flesh fell into his lap. She was going to complicate this … he could just tell.
SYDNEY’S MOST ELIGIBLE …
The men everyone is talking about!
Young, rich and gorgeous, Rob, Scott, Brodie and Luke have the world at their feet and women queuing to get between their sheets.
Find out how the past and the present collide for them in this stylish, sexy and glamorous new quartet!
These sexy Sydney tycoons didn’t get to the top by taking the easy way—the only thing they love more than a challenge is a woman who knows her mind!
So let the fireworks begin …!
HER BOSS BY DAY … by Joss Wood Available January 2015
THE MILLIONAIRE’S PROPOSITION by Avril Tremayne Available February 2015
THE TYCOON’S STOWAWAY by Stefanie London Available March 2015
THE HOTEL MAGNATE’S DEMAND by Jennifer Rae Available April 2015
You won’t want to miss any of the fabulous books in this sizzling mini-series!
JOSS WOOD wrote her first book at the age of eight and has never really stopped. Her passion for putting letters on a blank screen is matched only by her love of books and travelling—especially to the wild places of Southern Africa—and possibly by her hatred of ironing and making school lunches.
Fuelled by coffee, when she’s not writing or being a hands-on mum Joss, with her background in business and marketing, works for a non-profit organisation to promote the local economic development and collective business interests of the area where she resides. Happily and chaotically surrounded by books, family and friends, she lives in Kwa-Zulu Natal, South Africa, with her husband, children and their many pets.
Her Boss by Day…
Joss Wood
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For my sister, Jen Seymour-Blight, who lives far too far away in Australia. Miss you.
Table of Contents
Cover (#u68de18fa-d9d6-5910-9cd0-45b2e64e24a0)
Excerpt (#ub082e56a-c80b-5b33-ae0d-17de199c1c1d)
About the Author (#uf4eb191f-15a3-54f2-8018-a8078cc29fa5)
Title Page (#u1b5d8de8-0d1b-50ca-bb62-ea30963b3707)
Dedication (#u1a8874f4-b02d-53ee-8a05-1ef27cd7d23e)
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EPILOGUE
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#uf1ab7f78-b156-5582-ad56-23420f88d4c9)
‘YOU WILL NOT get me into bed tonight. Tomorrow night isn’t looking good for you, either.’
In the huge bathroom mirror of the upmarket Saints restaurant in Surry Hills, Willa Moore-Fisher practised the phrase and shook her head in disgust. She was being too nice and her sleazy blind date didn’t deserve that much consideration. Obtuse to a fault, he might think that there was a chance of sleeping with her in the future. Which there wasn’t—ever. She’d rather gouge her eye out with a blunt twig.
‘I’d explain why I think you’re an arrogant jerk, but then your brain would explode from you trying to understand.’ Willa tested the words out loud.
And wasn’t that an image to make her smile? Ka-boom! She could just imagine that smirking, arrogant expression blown apart by the suitable application of high-impact explosives. There were, she decided, very few personal problems that couldn’t be solved by a little C4.
Willa imagined that the explosive would work really well on soon-to-be-ex-husbands too …
Maybe you should just go back in there and give him another chance, suggested nice Willa, doormat Willa. It might be that this disastrous date is your fault; if you were a little better at drawing him out, at asking the right questions, at being more interesting …
Wild Willa dropped doormat Willa with a snappy kick to her temple. That’s what you did for eight years, moron; you tried to bring the best out in Wayne, tried to change yourself so that he would change. And how did that work out for you?
‘Catch a freakin’ clue, dumbass.’ Willa pointed a finger at her reflection. ‘Find your balls, metaphorically speaking, tell him he’s wasting your time and get the hell out of here.’
Yeah, like you’d ever actually say that aloud, taunted wild Willa. You’re the world’s biggest wuss and you’d rather put up with someone’s crap than take the chance of making anyone mad at you.
Maybe some day she’d learn to stand up for herself.
Wild Willa just snorted her disbelief.
God, these voices in her head exhausted her.
‘So, is this talking to yourself something new or did you always do it and I didn’t notice?’
In the mirror Willa saw the slick blonde and admired her exquisitely cut and coloured short, smooth bob. Then she clocked the mischievous tawny-brown eyes and spun around in shock.
‘Amy? My God, Amy!’
‘Hey Willa.’
Amy walked towards her on spiked heels. Her shift dress showed off her curves and her make-up and salon-perfect hair were flawless. Willa scanned her face and there, in the tilt of her mouth and in the humour dancing in her eyes, she saw her best friend at eighteen—the mischievous flirt who, just by being Amy, had opened up a world of fun to her that summer so long ago.
‘Amy. My God … what are you doing here?’
Willa leaned in for a hug and was surprised by the fact that she didn’t want to let Amy go. Why had she ever let her go? Let her fade from her life? That summer in the Whitsundays, their core group of friends—Amy, Brodie, Scott, Chantal, her older brother Luke—had been her world and, like so much else, she’d given them up when she married Wayne.
Stupid girl.
‘Having dinner with my flatmate before we go clubbing,’ Amy replied, keeping hold of Willa’s hand. ‘But you—why are you talking to yourself?’
‘Short answer … an excruciatingly bad blind date that I am trying to get out of.’ Willa tipped her head to the bathroom window. ‘Do you think I’m skinny enough to slip through there?’
Amy looked her up and down. ‘Actually, you are far too skinny—and back up. What about Wayne? You married him, didn’t you?’
Willa lifted her ringless left hand. ‘About to be divorced. That was a … mistake.’
Hmm … a mistake. That was a major understatement, but she’d go with it.
Amy pursed her lips. ‘I’m sorry … God, Willa, so much time has passed. We need to catch up. Now.’
‘What about my date and your friend?’ Willa asked. She had already been in the bathroom for an inexcusably long time—she was being so rude.
So what? Wild Willa rolled her eyes.
‘Pfft … your date sounds like a moron and Jessica was exchanging hot looks with a guy across the room. She won’t miss me.’
Amy stalked to the door, yanked it open and let out one of her high-pitched, loud and distinctive whistles. Willa wasn’t surprised when she soon saw a Saints waiter outside the door.
‘Is the small function room empty?’ Amy asked.
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Good. Tell Guido that I’m using it for a while, and ask him to please bring me a bottle of that Burnt Tree Chardonnay I like and put it on my tab,’ ordered Amy, and with a luscious smile sent him on his way.
The kid, drooling, whirled away to do the goddess’s bidding. It seemed that Amy, always a good flirt, now had a PhD in getting men to jump through her hoops.
Amy turned back to Willa and shrugged at her astounded expression. ‘I hold a lot of work functions here. Guido owes me.’
Amy led Willa out of the bathroom, down a decorated passage and into a small function room that held a boardroom table at one end and a cluster of chairs at the other. She pulled Willa to the set of wingback chairs and gestured to her to sit.
‘It’s so good to see you, Willa,’ Amy said, taking the seat opposite her. ‘You look so … different. Classy … rich.’
Willa knew what she saw: it was the same face and body she looked at every day. She was still the same height, taller than most woman but skinnier than she’d been at eighteen. Thick, mocha and auburn shoulder-length hair, with a heavy fringe surrounding a pixie face dominated by silver-green eyes.
‘That’s because I am classy … and my husband—ex—whatever—is rich,’ Willa said, making a conscious effort to keep the bitterness from her voice but doubting that she’d succeeded. ‘Gym, designer clothes, best hairdresser in Sydney.’
Amy lightly touched her knee. ‘Was it awful … being married to him?’
Willa considered lying, thought about glossing over the truth, but then she saw the understanding and sympathy in Amy’s eyes and realised that while she wouldn’t tell Amy—tell anyone—the whole truth, she didn’t have to blatantly lie. She and Amy had been through too much for her to lie.
‘Not awful, no. Boring—absolutely. Wayne wanted a young, gorgeous trophy wife, and that’s what I’ve been for the past eight years.’
An eight-year marriage condensed into two sentences …
‘God, a trophy wife.’ Amy winced. ‘But you’re so damn bright … you always wanted to study accountancy, economics, business.’
‘Yeah, well, Wayne wanted beauty and acquiescence, not brains. I kept up with the markets, trends, but he’d didn’t like his wife talking business. I was supposed to be seen and not heard.’
‘I always thought that he was waste of space.’
At the knock on the door Amy got up to accept a bottle and glasses, thanked the waiter profusely and adeptly poured them both a glass.
Amy took a sip of her wine and took her seat again. ‘Why do I get the feeling that I’m getting the sanitised version here?’
Because she wasn’t a fool. ‘My dead marriage is a very boring topic, Amy.’
‘You were never boring, Willa. Quiet, maybe—intense, shy. Not boring. And I know that you probably gave Wayne-the-Pain a hundred and fifty per cent because the Willa I knew bent over backwards to make everyone happy. When you make a promise or a decision it takes a nuclear bomb to dislodge you.’
‘I’m not that bad,’ Willa protested, though she knew she was. She didn’t give up—or in—easily.
‘You hate going against your word.’ Amy sent her a strange, sad smile. ‘You were distraught that you had to ask Luke for help that night in the Whitsundays because I’d begged you not to.’
Willa bit her lip, still seeing Amy, battered and bloody, tears and crimson sand on her face. Her black and blue eye and her split cheek from fighting off Justin’s unwelcome advances on the beach. Sometimes she still saw her face in her dreams and woke up in a cold sweat.
‘I’m sorry, but I needed Luke to help me to help you.’
