The Taming of Xander Sterne

by Carole Mortimer

  Oh, hell, she even had an endearing lisp when she talked, caused no doubt by that noticeably missing front tooth.

  ‘I didn’t mean to,’ she continued to lisp. ‘It’s just that I’ve never seen such a big television before.’ Her eyes filled with unshed tears. ‘But Mummy has told me re—re—’

  ‘Repeatedly,’ Samantha supplied helpfully as she placed a cup of steaming-hot tea and the sugar bowl down on the breakfast bar in front of where Xander stood.

  ‘Re— Lots of times,’ the little girl substituted endearingly, ‘not to run in the house.’

  ‘I’ve labelled it “the whipped puppy look”,’ Sam confided softly even as she ruffled her daughter’s red curls affectionately.

  ‘What?’ Xander had to drag his gaze away from the contrite-looking child in order to look at her mother.

  ‘The tears welling up in the big eyes, the trembling bottom lip; “whipped puppy” look,’ the mother supplied ruefully. ‘It’s a look my daughter, most young children in fact, have mastered to perfection by the time they’re three!’

  ‘Oh.’ How to feel foolish in one easy lesson; he was being played, and by a five-year-old, at that!

  Sam gave a rueful smile as she obviously saw the confusion in his expression. ‘I assure you, the contrition is perfectly genuine, and you really shouldn’t feel bad about responding to “the look”; it usually works on me too.’

  Xander had the distinct impression he was fast losing control of this situation. If he’d ever had control of it in the first place!

  But it was well past time that he did.

  Xander looked coldly down the length of his nose at the two Smith females. ‘Paul left your bags out in the vestibule, which for obvious reasons you will have to carry to your rooms yourself. You have the two adjoining bedrooms on the right at the end of the hallway. My own suite of rooms is behind the doors on the left. An area that, under no circumstances, will either of you enter without permission. For any reason,’ he stated decisively.

  For a heartbeat or two she looked taken aback by the harshness of his tone after their earlier conversation, before she straightened her slender shoulders, seemingly unaware of how the movement thrust forward her tiny but perfectly rounded breasts.

  Something Xander was completely aware of, in spite of himself.

  ‘Of course, Mr Sterne,’ she now answered him smoothly. ‘Come along, Daisy, Mr Sterne wants to be alone now.’ She held out her hand to her daughter, which Daisy took before turning to bestow another shy smile on Xander as they left the kitchen together.

  Leaving Xander feeling like a complete boor for having spoken to the two of them so harshly.

  He instantly dismissed the feeling; if Daisy Smith had that ‘whipped puppy’ look down to perfection, then she had almost certainly acquired it from her mother.

  * * *

  ‘Is there anything else I can get for you, Mr Sterne?’

  Sam kept her expression deliberately bland as she waited beside the formal dining table where she had just served him the first course of his dinner: perfectly cooked asparagus and Béarnaise sauce.

  Her long hair was secured tidily at her nape, and she was wearing the same plain white shirt and tailored black trousers she had worn to her interview earlier in the week; it was her idea of her evening ‘uniform’ for the next two weeks.

  Sam had brought all the ingredients with her for the meals she would be serving over the weekend, knowing that she wouldn’t have the time, with Darius and Andy’s wedding tomorrow, to go shopping for food until Monday.

  She had decided to prepare something simple for Xander’s evening meal today: the asparagus, followed by steak and a fluffy stuffed potato and buttered carrots, and for dessert she had made a pineapple upside-down cake with ice cream; easy to make, but it looked and tasted good. And there was no denying that the kitchen was a dream to work in.

  Sam had always liked preparing and cooking food, and it was something she knew she was good at too. Which was why she had been deeply disappointed when Malcolm had refused to allow her to cook for him, insisting that it was what he employed his chef for. The most Sam had been allowed to do in that area was to approve the menus for the week.

  Unfortunately, since the separation and divorce Sam’s meagre budget had been a huge deciding factor in the meals she had been able to prepare for Daisy and herself.

  Happily, there would be no such limitations in Xander’s household. Sam very much doubted he had ever eaten a bowl of home-made stew in the whole of his privileged life!

  ‘What did you have in mind?’ He leant back in his chair to look up at her with those dark unfathomable eyes, his only concession to changing for dinner being to replace the black T-shirt of earlier with a white one. But then, he was in his own home, and so perfectly at liberty to wear whatever he chose, whenever he chose. Or not...

  It had been a couple of hours since he had dismissed Sam and Daisy from the kitchen, and Sam had made good use of that time, by unpacking their few belongings and putting them away in the empty drawers in their bedrooms. She had also put the food she had brought with her away in the fridge and kitchen cabinets, before preparing dinner.

  Sam’s cheeks warmed now as she heard the unmistakeable challenge in his tone. A challenge she chose to ignore. She had been married to a man whose wealth, and the power that wealth gave him, had rendered him both arrogant and selfish, to the point that Malcolm had ridden roughshod over everybody. Including Sam and her romantic dreams of their happy future together.

  She had no intentions of so much as acknowledging that Xander Sterne had that bad-boy look off to perfection, in the fitted white T-shirt that stretched tautly over his wide shoulders and chest, and revealing his tanned and muscled arms. Or that she was guilty of having noticed the tautness of his bottom earlier, in those hip-and-thigh-hugging black jeans.

  Enough so that it now made Sam’s heart beat faster just to look at all that blatant maleness, her palms feeling slightly damp, a tingling warmth in her breasts and between her thighs.

  None of which she wanted to feel for the arrogant man. ‘You made a comment earlier,’ she said coolly. ‘Something about rule number one being null and void?’

  ‘So I did.’

  ‘What did you mean by it?’

  ‘Where’s Daisy?’ He asked a question of his own rather than answer hers. ‘It seems very quiet in the apartment this evening.’ He raised questioning blond brows.

  Sam’s hackles were already up in regard to her daughter, but she stiffened defensively now; no matter what this man might think to the contrary, Daisy was not a noisy or a rowdy child. The opposite, in fact. Daisy was introspective rather than outgoing; no doubt a legacy of those early years of her childhood spent with a father who ignored her very existence, and had his own set of rules for ensuring he did so.

  A guilt Sam still lived with on a daily basis.

  For having ever held out even the fragile hope her marriage would one day return to their first year together, when she and Malcolm had seemed so happy together. For hoping, praying, that Malcolm would one day come to love his beautiful daughter.

  She had wasted almost three years hoping and praying for those things, not just of her own life but of Daisy’s too, and on a man Sam had belatedly realised she wasn’t sure she had ever really known, let alone loved. A rich and arrogant man who had seen his much younger wife only as an asset, to be paraded on his arm, and to fill his bed at night. A man who was too selfish, too self-absorbed, to love the beautiful daughter they had made together.

  Xander Sterne was even richer and more powerful than Malcolm could ever hope to be, and Sam didn’t even want to acknowledge that he was also far more disturbingly attractive too. That he possessed a sensual magnetism she responded to, however unwillingly.

  Her days of allowing herself to be attracted to rich
and powerful men were long gone!

  Having been forced to live by a set of rules once, Sam wasn’t sure she could now adhere to another set, laid down by Xander Sterne for the time she and Daisy would be staying with him in his apartment.

  ‘Samantha?’

  She blinked before focusing on the man now studying her with piercing eyes beneath long lashes.

  ‘Sam,’ she invited automatically.

  ‘I prefer Samantha,’ he dismissed arrogantly—as if that settled the matter.

  Which in Xander Sterne’s self-assured eyes, it probably did. And really, what did it matter whether this man called her Sam or Samantha, when in two weeks’ time they would never set eyes on each other again?

  ‘Whatever you’re comfortable with,’ she allowed disinterestedly. ‘And to answer your question, Daisy has already been fed, bathed, and is now fast asleep in bed.’

  Xander had no idea where Samantha’s thoughts had been for the past few moments, but he was pretty sure they couldn’t have been pleasant ones. Her eyes had taken on a haunted look, the hollows of her cheeks paler than ever against the fullness of her rose-coloured lips. ‘It’s only eight o’clock.’

  Samantha nodded. ‘Daisy always goes to bed at seven o’clock on schooldays.’

  Something else Xander didn’t know about children.

  ‘Fine.’ He shrugged. ‘Then perhaps you and I can talk about those rules after dinner?’

  Her back stiffened. ‘Of course, Mr Sterne.’

  ‘Xander.’

  ‘I would prefer that we keep things formal between the two of us.’

  ‘Does that mean you would really prefer that I call you Mrs Smith?’

  ‘No, because I’m not Mrs Smith,’ she answered with a humourless twist of her lips.

  Xander studied her through narrowed lids. ‘I seem to remember my brother telling me you’re divorced?’

  ‘I am.’ She nodded tersely. ‘I reverted to my maiden name after the divorce.’

  He frowned. ‘Is Daisy’s surname Smith too?’

  ‘Yes.’ Her mouth tightened defensively.

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  Not many people would understand a situation like hers. One where a father insisted upon, rather than objected to, his child’s surname being changed to her mother’s maiden name after the divorce. Malcolm hadn’t even wanted Daisy to possess his surname.

  ‘Your food is getting cold, Mr Sterne.’ She pointed out the obvious as she once again avoided meeting his gaze. ‘And I have several things that need my attention in the kitchen,’ she added before he could object. ‘But I’ll be more than happy to have that chat after I’ve served your coffee.’

  Xander frowned as he began to eat his cooling asparagus, his attention really on watching her as she left the dining room. He was totally aware of the defensive stiffness of her very straight spine and shoulders, and the vulnerable length of her neck as she tilted her head back just as defensively.

  Obviously he had said something to upset her—something else to upset her!

  But wasn’t it a little unusual to also change a child’s surname after a divorce?

  Not that he was acquainted with divorce on a personal level. His own parents had been unhappily married and probably should have divorced each other, but they hadn’t, so that when Lomax Sterne died, Catherine and her two sons had continued to keep the surname Sterne. His mother had only changed her name to Latimer when she married Charles, Xander’s stepfather.

  Xander knew he would object strongly to any woman wanting to change his child’s surname to her own, divorce or no divorce.

  Xander gave a shake of his head; he was taking far too much of an interest in the life of his temporary employee.

  * * *

  ‘Dinner was excellent, thank you.’

  Sam gave a nod of her head in acceptance of the praise as she placed the tray of coffee things down on the dining table.

  ‘Sit,’ Xander invited tersely as she began to clear the dessert bowl from the table.

  ‘I’d rather stand, if you don’t mind,’ she said, trying not to bristle at being ordered about so impolitely.

  His gaze was cool as he looked up from stirring sugar into his black coffee. ‘I do mind.’

  Sam gave a perplexed frown. ‘I really don’t think it’s appropriate for maintaining our employer/employee relationship for me to join you at the dinner table.’

  ‘I think the appropriateness or otherwise of our situation will be dispensed with the moment you have to help me prepare for bed later tonight!’

  Sam instantly felt the heat of embarrassment burning in her cheeks—a blush she knew would clash horribly with the red of her hair—at this reminder that this was one of the duties she had agreed to when she took this job. A totally ridiculous embarrassment, when she had been a married woman for over three years.

  Except she hadn’t been married to Xander Sterne.

  Xander Sterne was in a whole different category from Malcolm when it came to physical prowess. Despite the inconvenience of having had a broken leg for six weeks, which had seriously affected his mobility, he was still all lean muscle and barely leashed power.

  The thought of having to help him prepare for bed later tonight, including being available in case he needed help with his shower, was enough to make Sam feel hot all over, and she had to clasp her hands tightly together behind her back so that he wouldn’t see they were trembling.

  ‘All the more reason for us to maintain the formalities between us,’ she countered coolly.

  Xander rarely used this formal dining room, and he hadn’t enjoyed eating dinner on his own in here this evening either. So much so that he was going to instruct Samantha to serve his meals in the kitchen in future. But he couldn’t help notice her discomfort at his mention of needing her help later tonight.

  He wasn’t exactly looking forward to the awkwardness of that experience himself, but for a few seconds Samantha had looked positively horrified at the reminder of it, before she quickly masked the emotion. An emotion that was still evident in the flush in her cheeks, and the trembling hands she had attempted to hide from him by thrusting them quickly behind her back.

  Proving she wasn’t quite as cool and composed as she wished to appear...

  ‘I’m starting to get a crick in my neck from looking up at you,’ he bit out impatiently.

  ‘I’m not tall enough for you to get a crick in your neck.’ She eyed him sceptically.

  She had a point; even with Xander seated at the table their eyes were almost on the same level.

  ‘Look, Samantha, I really am trying to refrain from actually ordering you to sit down,’ he rasped testily.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you obviously took exception to it a few minutes ago,’ he bit out irritably.

  Once again Xander watched the emotions flickering across Samantha’s delicately thin face, seeing reluctance, and then irritation, as good sense obviously won out, and she pulled out the chair opposite him before lowering herself down to perch uncomfortably on its edge.

  She raised her chin. ‘I believe you wanted to discuss the rules for the time Daisy and I are staying here?’

  That had been what Xander wanted to discuss with her, but now it came to it he felt like a complete and utter heel for having even mentioned the subject. It had seemed to upset Samantha earlier, and even more so now, although he had no idea why.

  Admittedly, he hadn’t been in the best of moods after falling over earlier but he had accepted Daisy’s apology, hadn’t he?

  He hadn’t heard so much as a peep out of the little girl for the last three hours or so. In fact, it had been so quiet he wouldn’t even have known there was a child staying in his apartment.

  Which was exactly what he had wished for earlier this e
vening, wasn’t it?

  His mouth thinned. ‘I’m sure you’ll agree there have to be some rules for the three of us living here together?’

  ‘Which we should perhaps have discussed in more detail before I accepted the job,’ she said with a grimace.

  ‘No doubt,’ he conceded impatiently.

  Samantha nodded stiffly. ‘The first one of those rules is no running in the hallways, I believe?’

  Xander searched that pale face for either sarcasm or humour, but she gazed back at him without emotion. As if Samantha had heard all of this before, in another time and another place.

  ‘My requests are really only a matter of common sense,’ he snapped his irritation. ‘For your own and Daisy’s sake, as much as for my own.’

  ‘Oh?’ Samantha raised one auburn brow.

  ‘Yes, I— Look, I’m not used to having children around me, okay?’ Xander ran an exasperated hand through his hair. ‘I wouldn’t want to—I wouldn’t want—’ He wouldn’t want to what? Explode in temper at that timid little girl?

  Would he do that to her? Could he do that? Was that monster he had discovered inside him capable of doing something so horrible to a five-year-old girl?

  Xander no longer knew the answer to that question; that was the problem!

  His mouth firmed. ‘No running in the hallways, no screaming or shouting, no loud television programmes—especially in the mornings. And, as I’ve already said, no entering my bedroom suite, and definitely no touching any of the artwork.’

  None of which applied to her, Sam acknowledged wearily, but was all aimed specifically at her daughter.

  She certainly wasn’t prone to screaming and shouting, or watching loud television programmes at any time of the day or night. Nor did she have any intention of entering Xander’s bedroom suite, other than those occasions when she had to help him in or out of the shower, or to dress. Nor was there any reason for her to touch any of his no doubt priceless artwork. Why would she need to? He had a cleaning service that came in twice a week to vacuum and dust and do the laundry.