Bella's Impossible Boss

by Michelle Douglas

  ‘What do you think?’

  Her voice was low, hushed. It whispered across his skin like a promise. He swallowed. ‘It looks great, Bella. Beautiful.’ She was beautiful.

  She turned, her eyes warm, her generous lips lifting. ‘Thank you.’

  Her pleasure at his simple compliment touched him.

  She’d pulled her hair up onto the top of her head in a kind of sexy knot with loose strands spilling down around her face and neck. She twined one long tendril of hair around her finger now, drawing his eyes to the sleek line of her neck. Pure temptation and she didn’t even realise it. He tried to banish the images that flooded him: of the way her neck would arch as he pressed kisses to it; of the softness of her curves as they pressed against him; of the warmth of her skin as he traced lazy circles against the bare skin of her back.

  ‘I hope you’re hungry.’

  He snapped back. Her eyes had become huge in her face. He cursed himself for all but undressing her with his eyes. ‘Starved,’ he croaked.

  He had to get a handle on himself and the situation. He couldn’t fall under the spell of the fantasy she was weaving. Bella was a virgin. In her mind, this evening was innocent. She didn’t know she was playing with fire. If he followed his natural urges and made love to her, he’d make her cry.

  Bile burned his tongue.

  If he slept with Bella she’d weave fantasies about him in her mind. No woman should do that. He set his jaw. He would not make Bella cry. She deserved her dream of a happy-ever-after with her prince. And if that didn’t work out for her? He rolled his shoulders. Well, he refused to be the guy who shattered her dreams and disillusioned her.

  She touched his arm and he had to bite back a groan. ‘Have a seat.’ With that she moved into the kitchen. He forced wooden legs to the table, forced himself to sit when all he wanted to do was drag her into his arms.

  She came back carrying two plates and set one in front of him.

  Oysters? God, no! He stared at the six oyster shells arranged in a circle in front of him. He cleared his throat. Business. ‘I take it our foolish young swain has given you a complete list of his beloved’s likes and dislikes?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’

  Her rich deep chuckle did nothing to ease the heat washing through him.

  ‘And one very simple instruction.’

  He clenched his hands in his napkin before placing it on his lap and smoothing it out. ‘Which is?’

  She lifted one of the oysters and sipped it straight out of its shell. The sight nearly knocked him out his chair. ‘Seduction,’ she murmured.

  His groin swelled. He adjusted it in his lap before it cut off circulation to his brain entirely.

  ‘That’s the mood he wants me to create.’ She sent him a heavy-lidded smile, her lips full and her eyes dreamy. ‘How am I doing so far?’

  She had the seduction thing nailed. He straightened and shoved his shoulders back. ‘You do know you aren’t going to be the one sitting across the table from him?’

  She merely smiled and glanced at his plate. ‘I thought you said you were hungry. I’ve prepared the oysters in three different ways. You have to try at least one of each.’

  She lifted another shell to her lips and he dragged his gaze away. Eating had to be far easier than watching her practise the art of seduction. He gulped down three oysters in quick succession. Man, they were good. He devoured the rest.

  ‘Well?’

  Her eyes lowered to his lips. Didn’t she have any idea of the effect she was having on him? He wanted to fall to his knees and cry, ‘Uncle!’

  ‘Which did you prefer?’

  He swallowed, stared at his plate and then pointed wildly at one of the shells.

  ‘Mmm.’ Her tongue ran along her bottom lip. All the way along. ‘I liked that one, too.’

  Just when he was starting to think that she was being deliberately provocative, that she was purposely teasing him, taunting him, stretching him to his limits, she rose. ‘Would you open the champagne while I serve up the next course?’

  She disappeared back behind the long bench to the kitchen. He scraped a hand down his face, pressing his fingertips against his eyelids and dragged in deep breaths. He didn’t open the champagne. With his eyes closed he didn’t see her come back to the table, but he smelt her; heard the swishing slide of her flirty little skirt; could practically feel her warmth steal across his skin from across the other side of the table. She dredged his senses with her very essence.

  Her soft, womanly and sharp chef smells swirled around him—a combination of roses, fried onions and lemons. He didn’t know how such a combination could fire his senses to life. He didn’t know how such a combination could be so sexy. Maybe it wouldn’t have been on another woman, but it was sexy as hell on Bella.

  The feel of her so near sent a frisson of electricity racing up his bare arms and under the sleeves of his polo shirt to tighten his nipples. He forced his arms off the table and straightened his back.

  She slid a plate in front of him. ‘You look like you need an early night,’ she said, her words soft and husky.

  ‘Sounds good,’ he managed. If only she knew how good.

  ‘Sure does,’ she sighed.

  Her words held a promise he could hardly make himself believe. A swift glance at her face told him nothing.

  ‘Do you like lobster?’

  He stared down at his plate. Long, thick slabs of lobster meat were arranged strategically along with three shallow bowls of dipping sauce. ‘Are you deliberately trying to make the food look suggestive?’ The words barked out of him. He sucked in a breath. A more experienced woman would’ve realised by now exactly the effect she was having on him.

  Only, no woman had ever affected him the way Bella did.

  She took her seat and turned wide eyes to him. ‘Of course I am. It’s part of the game.’

  It didn’t feel like a game. Not any more.

  She picked up a piece of lobster meat and carefully covered its tip in a creamy sauce, drawing it back and forth through the dish. Sauce trickled down its length when she righted it again; she caught it with the pink tip of her tongue before it reached her fingers. Then she ran her tongue up its length with a slow relish that caught his breath and refused to give it back, firing his imagination with forbidden images of that sweet, pink tongue on his own turgid flesh.

  Her eyes speared his and in that instant he knew she wanted him. Whatever other excuse she’d given, this meal—this seductive, heady meal—was entirely for his benefit. All he had to do was reach across the table, draw her to her feet and she would be his. Ready, willing and eager.

  Heat licked his veins. To take Bella to his bed? He couldn’t think of anything that would give him more pleasure. He couldn’t think of anything he wanted more, that he had ever wanted more.

  He stared into those eyes as desire and rationality warred with each other. A man could lose himself in those eyes, in fantasies built around those lips. A man could lose his soul, his everything...including his freedom. There would be a price to pay if he slept with Bella.

  That thought didn’t dampen the desire firing though him. It didn’t ease the persistent ache in his groin. It did give him the momentary strength to drag his eyes from hers, to ease himself back in his chair a fraction.

  He would not give up his freedom. Bella was a ‘for ever’ kind of woman. He wasn’t a ‘for ever’ kind of anything—not where women were concerned. He was lucky to commit to the day after tomorrow.

  He wasn’t even prepared to get a dog.

  Yes, there’d be a price to pay if he slept with Bella, but it wouldn’t be him paying the piper, it’d be her. She’d pay with her dreams and with her disillusion. He wished to hell that wasn’t the case, that Bella was one of those sophisticated beauties who could take casual affairs in their stride, but she wasn’t. And he was self-aware enough to know that, if she were, he probably wouldn’t ache for her with this level of intensity.

  Damn it! She was lik
e a bad case of the chicken pox. They itched so bad they nearly sent you out of your mind, but you knew if you scratched them they’d scar you for life.

  ‘Dominic?’

  He dragged his gaze back to hers. ‘Do you know what the hell you’re doing?’

  She smiled. It was low, wide and sexy as hell. Her eyes sparked with anticipation. ‘Of course I know what I’m doing, Dominic.’ The words came out on short quick breaths. ‘I’m trying to seduce you. How am I doing?’

  For a moment her eyes shimmered with vulnerability, as if she thought she might be going about the seduction thing the wrong way, and it was almost his undoing. He forced himself to push away from the table. ‘This can’t happen.’

  * * *

  Bella fought back the panic that blocked her throat when she glimpsed the resolution in Dominic’s eyes. What had she done wrong? She’d planned everything to the tiniest detail—what she’d wear, the food she’d serve, the wine, the smoky jazz music that crooned in the background. She’d even locked Minky up in her bedroom.

  Dominic’s eyes had lit up in appreciation the moment he’d first seen her. He’d told her the table setting was beautiful. He’d complimented the entrée, and all the while he’d practically devoured her with his eyes. He wanted her. She might be a virgin but she knew that much.

  ‘What did I do wrong?’ she demanded as he stalked across to flick on the light switch. The room was instantly flooded with light; so much for evocative candlelight.

  He scratched both hands back through his hair until it stood on end. She ached to smooth it back down. ‘You didn’t do anything wrong.’

  That was when she noticed how tightly he held himself and hope lifted through her. Dominic’s control was hanging by a thread. She could still snap it yet.

  She’d need to tread carefully, though.

  First, she needed to put him at ease again.

  ‘Fine, so it’s not going to happen. Will you let Minky out of my bedroom?’ She leaned across and blew out the candles. She kicked off her shoes and retrieved a jug of cold water and two glasses from the kitchen. ‘But we can at least eat the food, can’t we?’

  He hovered nearby, clearly uncertain. He let the cat out; Minky bolted straight over to Bella and started to meow imperiously. ‘Of course there’s some lobster for you, too, Princess Minky-Moo,’ she crooned, placing a little lobster meat onto her bread-and-butter plate and setting it down on the floor for the cat.

  She glanced up at Dominic as she unrolled her napkin and spread it across her lap. ‘The food cost a bomb. Don’t make me feed it all to Minky.’

  She picked up her knife and fork—no more eating with her fingers—and started to cut into the tender chunks of lobster meat and eat it. She closed her eyes, chewed and swallowed. ‘Man.’ She opened her eyes and shook her head. ‘This is really good. The seafood in Newcastle is exquisite.’

  With something that sounded a lot like a curse, Dominic stalked over and took his seat again. Bella concentrated on her food and did her best to barely glance across at the man opposite. But she was aware of his heat, his scent and the tight defensive set of his shoulders.

  She needed them to be relaxed. She needed him to be relaxed and with his guard down before she hit him with round two.

  Stickability? She snorted. By the end of the evening he wouldn’t doubt her determination ever again.

  ‘What?’ he said in answer to her snort.

  Keep it light, she ordered. She had to keep it light. ‘You know what our foolish swain wanted to do?’

  ‘What?’

  He stared at her with narrowed eyes, almost as if waiting for her to pounce. She grinned. Pouncing was one tactic, she supposed, but it did lack a certain polish and sophistication. Still, it did have a primitive appeal. She wondered what he’d do if she did.

  ‘The foolish swain, Bella?’

  She snapped to. ‘He wanted me to make up some kind of berry-fool concoction with the engagement ring embedded within the dessert.’

  He stared. ‘Bad idea?’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Well, hello, yes! Besides the hygiene issue of ensuring the ring is clean and won’t contaminate the food, what if she swallowed the ring, or cracked a tooth when she bit into it?’

  His lips twitched a fraction and a thread of fire twisted through her belly.

  ‘I could see how a trip to the emergency department might put a dampener on the romantic mood,’ he allowed.

  ‘Exactly. And, even if she does find said ring without incident, it’s going to be covered in cream, custard, berry coulis and—’ she gave a strategic shudder ‘—that’s just a bit too icky.’

  His lips twitched some more. ‘Icky?’

  ‘Yes, it’s a very precise kitchen term.’

  He laughed. The fire in her belly arced lower and deeper. They finished the lobster and the accompanying salad.

  ‘You know,’ she said, lining up her knife and fork and pushing her plate away, ‘some people seem to do the most extreme and outrageous things when they’re proposing.’

  Dominic wiped his fingers on his napkin. He had long fingers and beautiful hands. ‘Like?’

  She dragged her gaze from his hands to shrug. ‘Oh, you know, by proposing on national television in front of thousands of viewers.’

  ‘Another bad move?’

  ‘Well, I’d hate it. It smacks of blackmail—no woman could have the heart to turn down a guy on national television et cetera. She’d be vilified by an entire nation if she said no. Embarrassment factor—high. Romantic factor—low.’ She collected up their plates. ‘Dessert? I made choc-dipped strawberries but they’ve lost their appeal for the moment. There’s chocolate mud cake and citrus tart in the fridge.’

  ‘Citrus tart,’ he said promptly. He gestured to the champagne that he hadn’t opened. ‘Would you still like me to do the honours?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’ll pop it back in the fridge for another time, unless you’d like a glass?’

  ‘No, no.’ He handed her the bottle.

  She wanted a clear head for the moment. They could save the champagne and strawberries for later, for post-seduction. She hid a secret smile as she placed a slice of citrus tart onto a dessert plate.

  ‘What about sky-writing a proposal of marriage?’

  She returned with their desserts and sat and spooned a forkful of mud cake into her mouth as she considered his question. Finally she nodded. ‘Yeah, that’s nice. It shows thought and it’s a big gesture, but you could still keep the moment private just between the two of you.’

  Dominic cut off an enormous mouthful of citrus tart and groaned as he ate it. He pointed to his plate. ‘Do you know how good this is?’

  Everything inside her clenched in need. She wanted him to look at her like that. She seized her glass of iced water and drained it dry.

  She loved him so much, wanted him so much. It scared her to think what it would be like to leave here in a couple of weeks’ time, to leave him. It might be insane to want to spend one passionate night with Dominic, but she knew it would be a memory that she could cling on to for a lifetime.

  She had a feeling it would be a memory that would help her through the terrible loneliness and longing of the coming months. She already knew that they would be terrible, knew it in her bones. Knew it in her heart. She set her fork down, unable to eat any more mud cake.

  ‘How would you like to be proposed to, Bella?’

  Her heart leapt. She told it to stop being stupid. Dominic’s question was purely hypothetical. He was making conversation in an effort to stave off any awkwardness.

  ‘Well, ideally it would have to involve champagne.’

  ‘French, naturally?’

  ‘But of course.’

  He grinned and pointed to her plate. ‘And chocolate mud cake?’

  ‘Yes, please. This is my fantasy after all, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  She cocked her head to one side. ‘I wouldn’t need anything showy or big.’

&nb
sp; ‘Except for the champagne,’ he said gravely.

  ‘Which would have to be French,’ she repeated with equal gravity. And then they both laughed. ‘So, a picnic on a deserted beach would fit the bill nicely. Champagne, chocolate mud cake, perhaps some strawberries and...’ She trailed off with a shrug.

  ‘And then he’d pop the magic question?’

  She shook her head. ‘He’d have to tell me why he loved me first so that I could believe he meant it.’

  Dominic stared, a spoonful of citrus tart halted halfway to his mouth. ‘What would he say?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ she confessed. ‘But it would be heartfelt and true.’ Then she folded her arms and winked at him. ‘And it better be good.’

  Dominic laughed, as she’d meant him to. She wasn’t silly enough to imagine that scenario with him. He did know that, didn’t he?

  Every muscle she had stiffened. He didn’t know that!

  She leaned towards him. ‘Dominic, I wasn’t imagining any kind of happy-ever-after with you, you know. I just wanted one night of passion.’

  He choked.

  ‘Did you think I had our first-born’s name already picked out?’ She sat back and shook her head. ‘So that’s what I did wrong, huh? I didn’t make my intentions plain enough.’

  Dominic continued to choke. Her confidence wavered. ‘Or did I do something else wrong, too?’

  She poured him a glass of water. He gulped half of it down. ‘Bella, like I already said, you didn’t do anything wrong.’

  ‘Oh, please!’ She pushed her plate away. ‘If I’d got it right you’d be putty in my hands by now.’

  All the tension shot back into his body. She thought he might splutter his ice water across the table. ‘Bella!’

  ‘But you’re not putty and I’m seriously disappointed about that. I’m a girl who likes to learn from her mistakes. So?’

  The pulse at the base of his jaw pounded. ‘If I didn’t know you as well as I do, we’d probably be tearing each other’s clothes off as we speak, but—’

  ‘Sounds good to me. In fact, it sounds great!’ She didn’t try to hide her sudden breathlessness.

  ‘But I do know you.’