Best of Bosses 2008: In Bed With Her Italian BossTaken by Her Greek BossBlind Date With the Boss

by Kate Hardy

  How sensible of Maeve to be going out with one of the many friendly and unattached young fellows at Blackcorp. Sally knew that was exactly what she should be doing. Already, several friendly young men had stopped by her desk.

  Why couldn’t she have been smitten by one of them instead of dreaming about their aloof and unattainable boss, who hurried past her desk with more important things on his mind and bought white roses for another woman?

  To make Sally’s downbeat mood worse, the music reached the especially beautiful passage she’d tried, so inadequately, to describe to Logan today. She remembered the tender expression in his eyes and tears rolled helplessly down her cheeks.

  When the phone rang she almost left it, believing herself too maudlin for any kind of conversation. But, at the last gasp, she dived out of her chair, swiped at her damp cheeks and lifted the receiver.

  ‘Oh, Sally,’ cried Anna’s voice, ‘I’m so glad you’re home. You see, Steve got back today and we were hoping to have a night out while he’s on leave. Is there any chance you could mind Oliver and Rose on Friday evening?’

  Sally assured her sister-in-law that she’d love to mind the children. And then, wanting to throw off any Cinderella-like sensibilities, she climbed the stairs and filled the bath with hot water and a quarter of a bottle of Chloe’s expensive and utterly self-indulgent bath oil.

  It was a night for pampering.

  Logan sat in darkness in his penthouse apartment overlooking Sydney Harbour, watching the spectacle of lights reflected on the silky black water below while he listened to Brahms.

  He tried to listen without thinking about Sally Finch. It was crazy that he was still thinking about her. But he kept picturing her here in his apartment, curled comfortably beside him on the sofa, her head resting on his shoulder as they listened to this music together. He imagined running his fingers through her dazzling curls.

  Fool.

  With an angry cry, he lurched to his feet and stood at the big picture window with his hands plunged deep in his pockets, staring hard at the inky water and the reflections of city lights while he willed his thoughts away from X-rated possibilities.

  Sally Finch was an employee and he was a boss who never mixed business with his private life. He’d seen other men follow that course, only to run their businesses off track, or to crash on the sharp and treacherous rocks of office politics.

  But, all that aside, Sally wasn’t his type. With no professional qualifications, no burning ambition, no long-term plans, she’d drifted into an inheritance and found herself an easy job where she could chat all day.

  In fact, she had too much to say. I thought you might not be very happy.

  Her comments still nagged at him.

  How could he not be happy? His life was at the exact place he wanted it to be. His business plan was on target, he had an enviable apartment with position, position, position. Women—beautiful, intelligent women—found him attractive. He was perfectly happy.

  Today he’d told Sally that she reminded him of his sister and he had been dead right. Carissa had said something equally annoying last week when he’d dropped off the boys. She’d tried to lecture him about the women he dated, tried to suggest that he was deliberately choosing women who were career driven. Women who weren’t looking for marriage and children.

  That was true. So what?

  It was an important part of his five-year plan. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by the kind of romance his sister wanted for him. Surely she understood his perennial fear? If he took his eye off the ball, he’d make a fatal error of judgement, a bad gamble like his father’s, and everything he’d tried so hard to achieve would collapse around him.

  But when he’d tried to explain that to Carissa, she’d said: I’d hate to see you take a gamble with your happiness.

  What was it with these women? Why did they think they had a special gift of second sight that could detect happiness at twenty paces? How could Sally Finch or his sister know anything about his state of mind, his personal level of contentment?

  Before Logan could get his head around this quandary, the telephone in the kitchen rang and, with an irritated sigh, he turned the music down and went to answer it.

  ‘Hi, Logan, it’s Carissa.’

  Speak of the devil.

  ‘I know you’re probably terribly busy, so I won’t beat about the bush. I’m ringing to ask a big favour.’

  For Sally, it was business as usual at work the next morning. People who’d been at the team-building workshop smiled and greeted her. Maeve was bubbling with happiness—last night’s date had been sensational.

  Logan gave Sally a brief nod as he hurried past with his phone glued to his ear and then, midmorning, he completely ignored her as he hurried out again, deep in conversation with a consulting engineer. They didn’t return for the rest of the day.

  Sally, working hard at being sensible, decided she was pleased. Life was much easier when Logan Black didn’t talk to her, didn’t smile at her.

  At five, she was getting ready to leave when Kim told her that some scaffolding, provided by Blackcorp, had collapsed in a big mine in Western Australia. Three men had been injured and the boss and his engineer had flown over to Perth to investigate what had gone wrong and to ensure that the injured men received the very best medical attention.

  ‘But cheer up,’ Kim said when she saw Sally’s long face. ‘It’s not your problem and the boss is a genius at handling this kind of drama.’

  ‘I’m sure he is.’ Sally picked up her handbag, slung its strap across her shoulder. ‘Actually, I think I might cheer myself up by going to see a film tonight. I need a bit of escapism.’

  ‘I have nothing special on,’ Kim said. ‘Would you like company?’

  Sally grinned at her. ‘I’d love it.’

  The boss was still away on Friday when the white roses arrived. Sally thought their ivory petals were even more perfect and fragrant than last week’s blooms and, in the privacy of the lift, she buried her face in them before she delivered them to Maria Paige on the next floor.

  Maria was busy on the phone so Sally put the flowers in the vase, which was once again ready and waiting. She wondered what would happen to them. Would Maria arrange for their delivery to Logan Black’s lover? Would she take them home to her house? Or would they sit here, unappreciated, in this empty office for the entire weekend?

  Maria remained busy so Sally left quietly, none the wiser.

  Determined to use the weekend to distance herself from a certain person at work, Sally was rather pleased to see Anna and Steve that evening, even though they were only calling to drop off the children.

  ‘Oliver’s inhaler is in the bag with Rose’s nappies,’ said Anna, looking unusually pink-cheeked and pretty in a grey silk dress and pearls. ‘He only needs it if he starts to wheeze. Two puffs should do the trick.’

  Steve, whose bearlike size was accentuated by a scruffy blond beard, gave his sister a rough hug. ‘Great to see you, little Sal. How are you handling the big smoke?’

  ‘I’ve got it licked.’ Sally grinned extra-brightly to stifle any urge of Steve’s to interrogate her endlessly. He had come to her rescue that night at the dance and she needed to curb his fiercely protective instincts.

  ‘That boss of yours has a reputation for being a tough nut to crack,’ he said.

  ‘Really?’ Sally gave a carefully casual shrug. ‘I’m only on the front desk, so I don’t really have much to do with him.’

  Fortunately, that seemed to be the right answer. Steve and Anna hurried away and Sally spent the evening reading story books aloud. Oliver didn’t wheeze at all and by eight he was settled in the little back bedroom in the bed next to Rose.

  Once both children were sleeping like cherubs, Sally went downstairs and read a murder mystery while flipping through television channels, struggling to stay awake until their parents returned, shortly after midnight.

  The rest of the weekend, usually Sally’s two favourite days of
the week, seemed to stretch interminably.

  Kim invited her to a friend’s housewarming party on Saturday night.

  ‘The more the merrier,’ she said.

  Sally knew that she needed to get out and meet young people. One of the exciting things about living in Sydney was the smorgasbord of eligible young men. Sally had hoped to meet all sorts of nice guys. But then Logan Black had fallen in a duck pond and his wet shirt and warm smiles at the team-building workshop had redefined her vision of masculinity.

  How silly.

  Sillier still was the fact that she couldn’t dredge up enough interest in this party. Instead, she cleaned out and sorted Chloe’s pantry. She visited a pet shop and thought long and hard about buying a cat for company. She went for several long walks and she sent a falsely bright and chatty email to her parents.

  The boss returned to the office on Monday.

  Sally looked up as the big sliding glass doors parted for a tall, dark-suited figure and when she saw that it was Logan her heart leapt high and hard. She thought he looked strained and tired. He definitely needs more than a cup of coffee for breakfast.

  He smiled at her—actually smiled—and said, ‘Good morning, Sally.’

  Sally again. Not Miss Finch, or Miss Sparrow.

  ‘Nice to see you back,’ she said as cheerfully as she could.

  ‘Thank you, Sally. It’s good to be back.’

  Surprised but emboldened by his friendliness, she called after him, ‘I was sorry to hear about the accident in Western Australia.’

  At the security doors, Logan paused and turned back to her. ‘Yes, it was bad. But the injured men are in good hands. They should make a full recovery. And we were able to put our minds at rest about our scaffolding.’

  ‘That’s good news for Blackcorp.’

  He fumbled in his trouser pocket, then slanted an embarrassed smile in her direction. ‘I seem to have forgotten my swipe card. Could you let me in?’

  ‘Of course.’ Sally’s poor heart was close to meltdown as she pressed the buzzer on her desk to operate the security doors. They slid open with a soft swish, but Logan didn’t continue through.

  Instead, he stood with his hand in his trouser pocket and he stared at the foyer’s marble flooring with a thoughtful frown, and the doors gently closed again. Sally was about to press the buzzer for a second time when he retraced his steps to her desk. ‘Sally, I have a question.’

  ‘Yes?’ She couldn’t help adding, ‘I happen to know that you’re rather good at asking questions.’

  He responded with another small smile. ‘I need a little help with something. Would it be possible for us to meet here at five this evening? I won’t keep you long.’

  Her mouth opened, but no sound emerged. Had she forgotten to breathe?

  Logan frowned at her. ‘Is that a problem?’

  ‘Oh, no.’ At last she found her voice but it was rather squeaky. ‘No, it’s no problem. Five o’clock is fine. Absolutely.’

  ‘Wonderful.’ He offered a brief dip of his dark head. ‘I’ll see you then.’

  He crossed again to the security door and waited and Sally thought how totally, deliciously handsome he looked with his shiny black hair and his lovely dark eyes, his sharp white shirt and classic suit. And she knew exactly how beautiful his body was beneath that superfine clothing. Broad shoulders, deep chest, narrow hips, long powerful legs.

  ‘Sally?’ Faintly bemused, he glanced back at her. ‘The door?’

  ‘Oh, sorry.’ Blushing profusely, she pressed the buzzer to let him through.

  CHAPTER SIX

  FORTUNATELY, it was a busy Monday morning. Sally was too occupied with telephone calls, courier deliveries, bags of mail and visitors arriving for important meetings to spend much time wondering what kind of help the boss could possibly require from her.

  But the question was there, lurking in the back of her mind, along with an uneasy suspicion. Why the boss’s sudden interest in her? She knew enough about human nature to understand that when someone changed from being aloof and dismissive to attentive and charming there had to be a hidden agenda.

  Logan Black wanted something. From her.

  But why did he need a special meeting? Why couldn’t he have asked her straight out, or sent an email?

  At lunch time in the park, while pigeons hovered, eyeing sandwich crusts, Sally wished she could share the boss’s puzzling request with Kim. Instead, she fished for information about his white roses.

  ‘I suppose they must be for someone special,’ she suggested.

  Kim pulled a face as she threw a crust that brought pigeons fluttering and swooping like paper in a whirlwind. ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘He seems to have a string of women. All high-flyers—businesswomen, politicians, lawyers. Every time his photo’s in the paper he’s with someone different. The white roses must be for his current favourite.’

  ‘You mean they all get the same treatment? How unimaginative!’ Sally’s vehemence surprised her.

  Kim laughed. ‘Give the man a break. He’s a mere male. We can’t expect too much.’

  ‘So true,’ Sally said with a sigh. But now she felt more confused than ever. At the workshop last week, when she had suggested to Logan that there was someone special in his life, he hadn’t denied it. But Kim was confident that he had a procession of women.

  She should be pleased about either possibility, of course. At least she now knew exactly where she stood.

  Completely out of the picture.

  Maria Paige rang shortly after lunch. ‘Are you very busy, Sally?’

  ‘Not especially.’

  ‘Mr Black would like an up-to-date file of all the media coverage of Blackcorp’s activities. It’s a matter of searching on the Internet for articles in newspapers and mining magazines published over the last couple of months. Do you think you could manage that?’

  ‘Sure. I can do it now if you like.’

  ‘Wonderful. Could you make a file of the articles and then email them through to me?’

  ‘No problem.’

  As Sally turned to her computer and clicked on a search engine, she wondered if this was the ‘help’ Logan had wanted to discuss with her. Perhaps he’d mentioned it to Maria Paige, suggesting that it was a task suitable for Sally. Perhaps Maria had jumped in and asked Sally first to prove how super-efficient she was?

  Sally was happy to do the task, but the possibility that there wouldn’t be anything left to discuss with Logan at five o’clock took the shine off her afternoon.

  It was interesting, however, to discover how many news stories and articles had been written about Blackcorp. By the end of the day, she had a much better grasp of the huge range of mining ventures the company supported, as well as Blackcorp’s role in many industry innovations, their outstanding annual profits and the soaring value of BMC shares. It was all a little overwhelming.

  Shortly before five, she sent an email with the file she’d created through to Maria, then waited nervously for the boss. He arrived at her desk at four and a half minutes past the hour.

  ‘I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.’

  ‘No, not at all. I’ve just sent the media file through to Maria.’

  Logan looked puzzled. ‘What media file?’

  ‘The one you wanted. The last few months’ media coverage of Blackcorp.’

  ‘Really? Maria asked you to compile that?’

  ‘Yes. Was that what you planned to ask me?’

  His brow furrowed as he shook his head, clearly puzzled. Then he looked at her and the frown disappeared. ‘No, my question has nothing to do with work.’

  ‘Oh.’ The single syllable was almost more than Sally could manage. She stood very still, hardly daring to breathe.

  Logan smiled another of his rare surprise-attack smiles. ‘I’d rather not discuss it here. Do you have time for a drink? There’s a quiet bar around the corner.’

  Sally’s sense of bewilderment deep
ened. This couldn’t be a date, could it? Surely the boss didn’t want to add her to his string of women?

  Watching her, the lines at the sides of Logan’s eyes crinkled. ‘I promise I won’t keep you long.’

  ‘Right.’ Sally gathered up her handbag and hoped he didn’t notice that she was shaking. ‘Let’s go.’

  Out on the street, the afternoon had turned gloomy and grey clouds pressed low to the tops of the city buildings. Rain threatened and the temperature had dropped and Sally hadn’t brought a coat, so she was doubly glad that Logan hadn’t exaggerated—the bar was, indeed, just around the corner.

  Logan pushed open the gilt-framed heavy glass door and ushered Sally inside and, as the door closed behind them, the roar and beeping of peak hour traffic disappeared and they were enveloped by warmth and luxury.

  The bar was unexpectedly large inside, with parquet flooring and Oriental rugs, timber panelling and plush leather armchairs. The waiters were dressed like butlers and Sally felt as if she were walking into an exclusive men’s club. At first she thought all the customers were men in dark business suits, but then she realised that there were several women, also dressed in dark business suits, with serious, businesslike expressions to match.

  In her pale grey suit and rose-pink top with a beaded neckline, Sally felt girlish and frivolous by comparison.

  ‘Let’s sit here,’ Logan said, indicating two deep leather armchairs and a low polished table in a quiet corner. Sally sat very carefully, as she’d been taught years ago in deportment classes, knees together, feet tucked neatly, so that her legs didn’t draw inappropriate attention.

  A waiter approached them.

  ‘What would you like to drink?’ Logan asked her. ‘Do you like wine?’

  ‘Yes, thanks. Red or white, I don’t mind.’

  He ordered Cabernet Sauvignon for both of them and then, as the waiter left, he confessed, ‘I know you must be wondering why on earth I’ve dragged you here.’

  ‘I must admit I can’t imagine why you’d need my help.’