Her Impossible Boss

by Cathy Williams

  At first she had worried that keeping it secret might be difficult. Claire had always been able to read her like a book, and she would have been able to chivvy it out of her without any trouble at all if she had smelled a rat, but in all events it had been much easier than expected. Tom had proposed, and Claire was residing in a parallel universe. She spent most of her time at his place, and disappeared on weekends to his parents’ house in Boston, where a wedding planner was feverishly working to produce a magical wedding in six months’ time. Even her parents skirted over what was happening in her life because they, too, were wrapped up in their contribution to the Big Day.

  Menus were discussed and seating plans were debated and bridal magazines were pored over until Tess wanted to scream—because where was she going with her clandestine relationship with Matt?

  Time was moving on. Her ticket to return to Ireland was booked for the beginning of September. But she could easily alter that. Her parents had lived for years in America before they’d moved back to Ireland. All three children had been born in America. Tess had dual nationality and she could have produced that, like a rabbit from a hat, at any given moment in time—but that moment had not arrived. Matt didn’t talk about the future and nor did she.

  But she would have to talk about it. She had spent weeks ducking below the radar and enjoying each day as it came. She could hardly believe that once she had been a girl who had lived her life like that, content never to dip her toes in the water.

  Hence she was dressing with particular care tonight. Samantha was with her grandparents in the Hamptons for the weekend, and she and Matt would have the apartment all to themselves. It would be the perfect opportunity to discuss this thing they had, which had no name. She would use all the feminine wiles at her disposal. Wasn’t all fair in love and war?

  Her dress was a wonderful long affair in shimmering pale yellow. It fell softly to the ground and left her brown shoulders bare. Her shoes were delicate sandals with yellow straps.

  The drive over gave her twenty-five minutes to plan what she was going to say and when. Just thinking about it made her nervous. She wondered whether he was still as allergic to commitment as he had once said he was, then told herself that that wasn’t the most important thing, because she could stay on in Manhattan with him, looking after Samantha. She wouldn’t actually be demanding anything. The words a stay of execution uncomfortably sprang to mind, but as quickly as they had taken shape they were dismissed, because she couldn’t afford to let herself start being pessimistic.

  Scrape the surface, though, and she was a bag of nerves by the time they reached his block of apartments and the elevator was silently transporting her to the top floor.

  Matt had had a key to his penthouse cut for her, and occasionally she used it, but it had never felt right. She had been given a key to facilitate her job as Samantha’s nanny. She wanted a key because Matt saw her as the other half of a couple and trusted her enough to come and go as she pleased. So now, as always, she rang the doorbell and waited in restless tension, clutching her little handbag in front of her.

  When he pulled open the door her heart flipped over, as it always did, and for a few seconds she was completely lost for words.

  He never failed to render her speechless. She saw him almost every day, had made love to him countless times, had watched, fascinated, the lithe suppleness and latent power of his naked body, and yet every time she laid eyes on him it was as if she were seeing him for the first time. He took her breath away, and however much he assured her that she had the same devastating effect on him she didn’t believe him. Compared to the women he could have at the click of his fingers, she was just an averagely pretty face.

  But she wasn’t going to think like that. Not tonight, when she wanted to think positive.

  The long look he gave her thrilled her from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes and she smiled shyly.

  ‘Do you like it?’ She stepped into his luxurious apartment and gave a little twirl. The dress followed her, as soft and tantalising as a whisper.

  He caught his fingers in her hair and pulled her towards him.

  ‘You look like a goddess,’ he murmured. ‘Some kind of exquisite, ethereal creature.’ His finger was now tracing her bare shoulder and her body reacted with mindless excitement. She could already feel her nipples tightening, and her breasts were heavy and sensitive, in expectation of being touched by him. She felt faint thinking about his mouth circling her nipples and licking them until she could scarcely breathe.

  But she pushed him gently away and walked towards the kitchen, from which was wafting a delicious smell.

  ‘Have you surprised me by cooking?’ she teased, putting some necessary distance between them because she didn’t want the evening to start with them in bed.

  ‘You know I don’t do that.’ She looked so damned edible standing there, delicate and fragile and breathtakingly pretty—an exotic counterpoint to the hard masculinity of his kitchen. He would have pinned her against the wall and taken her without preamble, but she had dressed to impress and he would savour the anticipation of getting her out of her clothes. ‘My dependable caterers have done justice to some fillet steak and…’ he came close, close enough for her to breathe him in, and lifted the lid of a saucepan ‘.some kind of sauce.’ He remained where he was, dipped his finger into the sauce and held it to her mouth. ‘Taste it and enlighten me,’ he murmured, already so hot for her that it was beginning to get painful.

  He lounged against the counter, his feet loosely crossed at the ankles, and gave her a look of burning satisfaction as the pink tip of her tongue licked the sauce from his upheld finger. Like a cat finishing the last remains of the cream.

  ‘Brandy and peppercorn, I think. And I don’t see why you can’t cook for me now and again.’ She gave a mock sigh of wistfulness. ‘You’re a perfectly good cook. I know. You’ve done lots of wonderful things with Samantha. Remember that risotto?’

  ‘Correction,’ Matt told her wryly, ‘Samantha has done lots of wonderful things with me. My role is solely to do as I’m told.’

  ‘Since when do you ever do as you’re told?’ She relaxed enough to smile, but tension was still blazing inside her.

  ‘You can always put that to the test.’ He leant against the counter, hemming her in. ‘Command me, my beautiful little witch,’ he breathed into her ear, before nibbling the side of her neck and sending a flurry of piercing, pleasurable sensations rippling through her. ‘Would you like me to get down on my knees and push that sexy dress up so that I can drive you wild with my mouth? Hmm? Or we can always go for something a little more kinky…. It would appear that dessert comes with custard.’

  ‘Stop it!’ Tess laughed, hot and flustered, and feebly pushed him away—but he had set up a very evocative image in her head that she was finding difficult to dispel. ‘We’re not going to do any such thing.’

  ‘Sure? Because I saw a flash of temptation in your eyes just then…Now, let me just see how much you dislike the idea…’ To hell with not moving too fast and giving the dress time to have its moment of glory. Still supporting himself with one hand flat against the edge of the granite counter, he reached down and inched the silky fabric upwards. His eyes didn’t leave her face.

  ‘You have no self-control, Matt Strickland,’ Tess protested weakly.

  ‘Tell me about it. And what about you? I’d say we’re even on that score.’ He felt the softness of her thighs. The cloth was bunched around his hand and he shrugged it away as he dipped his fingers beneath the lacy band of her thong and slipped them into her.

  Tess melted. Her eyelids fluttered shut. This wasn’t playing fair! She blindly searched for his mouth with hers, but after just a fleeting kiss he pulled back and whispered, in a sexy, velvety voice, ‘No chance. I want to see your face when you come.’

  ‘Okay. You win,’ she groaned jerkily. ‘But let’s go to the bedroom…make love…ah…’ She couldn’t finish the sentence. Her body was moving of
its own accord. Her head was flung back and her eyes were shut as his fingers continued to plunder her, moving fast and hard, then slowly and gently, teasing every ounce of sensation out of a body that felt as limp as a rag doll.

  Colour climbed into her cheeks and her breathing became laboured, and then she was falling over the edge, shuddering with the power of her orgasm and crying out, at which point Matt brought his mouth against her so that he could breathe in the wildness of her groaning.

  ‘That,’ he murmured when she had climbed down from the mindless heights of pleasure, ‘is an excellent way to start any evening.’

  Under normal circumstances Tess would have been in enthusiastic agreement with that statement. Matt knew just how to excite her in unimaginable ways. But tonight she had another purpose, and as soon as she had smoothed down her dress she was back to feeling as nervous as a kitten.

  Without looking for ways to be critical, she realised that he was utterly oblivious to her mood—but then thoughts of her leaving would probably not have crossed his mind. For weeks Tess had nurtured the hope that what they had would leave him wanting more. They shared a lot together. He might be ruthless and driven in the work place, but with her he had been tender and thoughtful, and with Samantha he had shown boundless patience and a resilient ability to take the knocks and somehow find a way of turning them around. Would he be able to give her up without a backward glance? She had subconsciously chosen to think that he wouldn’t, but now, as he whistled softly and made a great show of doing things with the pots and pans, she wasn’t sure.

  If he was that tuned in to her feelings then surely he would have picked up on the fact that she was more subdued than usual?

  Now he was chatting to her about work. He sometimes did that, even though he had once commented wryly that he really didn’t know why he bothered, because the second he started he could see her eyes glazing over.

  She accepted the drink that was proffered and settled on one of the leather dining chairs at the kitchen table. He was fairly useless in the kitchen. A tea towel was slung over one shoulder and every cooking utensil seemed to be out, even though he was really just heating up a variety of dishes. In between stirring things and peering under lids he chatted and sipped his wine, occasionally glancing round at her, and even in the midst of her anxious thoughts she still warmed at the hot possessiveness in his eyes.

  ‘But do you miss it?’ Tess asked abruptly, as a plate of food was placed in front of her with exaggerated flourish. ‘The long hours, I mean? For weeks you’ve managed to be pretty sensible about getting back here in time, to see something of Samantha, so do you miss the work you would have been putting in otherwise at the office?’

  In the middle of topping up their glasses, Matt paused and looked at her. Something uneasy stirred in him, but he quickly put that to rest by telling himself that nothing was amiss. She might be a little quieter than she normally was, but she had melted at his touch the way she always did. He never seemed to tire of her helpless excitement whenever he touched her. It turned him on in ways that he no longer bothered to question.

  ‘That’s a strange question. I work for several hours after Samantha has gone to sleep. It’s satisfactory.’

  ‘So…does that mean that you’ve restructured your life?’

  ‘Where are we going with this conversation?’ Matt tried to keep the irritation out of his voice. He had become accustomed to her undemanding nature. It suited him. She was always happy to fall in with whatever he wanted, and over the weeks he had discovered that her lack of complication suited him in ways nothing else seemed to have suited him in the past, but there was something insistent about her at the moment that seriously threatened to ruin the atmosphere.

  ‘It doesn’t have to go anywhere,’ Tess told him, picking at her fillet steak. Her appetite was fading fast. ‘I’m just asking.’

  Matt pushed back his chair and tossed his napkin on a plate of food that was only half eaten. ‘I haven’t restructured my life.’ He linked his fingers behind his head and looked steadily at her flushed face. ‘I’m in the process of trying to find a balance.’

  ‘Does that mean you thought it was out of sync before?’

  ‘It means that Samantha is a reality I have to deal with. Originally I thought that I would more or less be able to carry on as normal, with a great deal of help to cover for my absences. It wasn’t a viable option. It’s a necessary sacrifice and it’s been worth it. Whether I’ll be able to carry on being consistent remains to be seen. There will be instances when I have to go abroad, and I’ll have to get overnight cover when that arises. My mother would be happy enough to come here for a few days, so I don’t foresee any problems that won’t be surmountable. Now, does that satisfy your curiosity?’

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t act as though I’m being a nuisance just by trying to have a conversation with you!’ Tess heard herself snap, shocking herself by daring to rock a boat which she had steadfastly tried to keep level for the past two months. But she could no longer help the build-up of anxiety inside her. Once upon a time she had never had a problem in saying what she thought. This was like walking on eggshells. One false move and she sensed that the structure she had built around herself, the little fortress in which she had placed Matt and Samantha, would be shown for the house of cards that it really was.

  She was finding it hard to hold on to her sunny optimism.

  ‘What’s going on, Tess?’

  ‘Sometimes I like to think that there’s a little more to us than just sex…’

  The silence stretched endlessly between them, straining until it was so close to breaking point that she could hardly breathe. She certainly couldn’t look at him. Instead she fiddled with the fork on her plate, making swirly patterns into the fast cooling brandy sauce which she had hardly tasted.

  She looked up when he began clearing the table, and had to resist the temptation to fling herself at him and tell him that she was just kidding. She knew that she had embarked on this relationship with the understanding that she would demand nothing, and she had been good to her word, but she had fallen deeper and deeper and deeper in love with him. She realised now that she had vaguely assumed that time would sort them both out and provide a way forward for their relationship.

  When she stood up to help him, her legs felt wobbly. She was relieved when he told her to wait for him in the living room.

  She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she wasn’t aware of him framed in the doorway until he spoke. She twisted round to look at him.

  ‘You were saying…?’ Matt prompted, strolling into the living room to join her on the sofa.

  Tess was finding it difficult to reconcile the man looking at her now with a closed, shuttered expression with the man earlier, who had laughed into her mouth and caressed her with such gentleness that she had felt as though they were two halves of the same person.

  ‘I was saying that I’d like to think that what we have is more than just sex.’ She smoothed her hands nervously along her dress. ‘Do you care about me at all? I guess that’s what I’m asking.’

  ‘What kind of a question is that? If I didn’t care about you I wouldn’t be having a relationship with you.’

  ‘So I’m on a par with Vicky? Is that what you’re saying? You care about me the way you cared about her?’

  ‘I prefer not to make comparisons between the women that I sleep with.’

  ‘What’s the difference between us?’ Tess persisted doggedly.

  Matt glared at her. He didn’t like being hemmed in, and as someone who had never made a habit of giving an account for his actions he was infuriated that she was persisting with this line of questioning.

  ‘For a start, Vicky never had a relationship with my daughter.’

  ‘But if you take Samantha out of the equation.’ ‘How can I take her out of the equation? She’s part of my life.’

  ‘You know what I’m saying,’ Tess insisted stubbornly. Having come this far, she was committed to this co
urse of action whatever the outcome.

  ‘No. I don’t.’ Matt couldn’t believe that the evening to which he had been looking forward with impatience and anticipation was collapsing into a mess of awkward questions and unreasonable demands. They should have eaten a very good dinner, drunk some excellent wine, chatted with the ease with which they always chatted, and then progressed into bed where he would have lost himself in her. The fact that she had seen fit to scupper his plans ratcheted up his foul temper by a couple of notches.

  ‘Okay, then I guess I’d better spell it out for you. I know you don’t like the thought of planning ahead. I know that. The only stuff you ever seem to think about long-term is stuff to do with your work. You can think fifty years in advance when it comes to arranging your work life!’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with that,’ Matt gritted, avoiding the unwelcome topic of conversation that was staring him in the face. ‘Businesses don’t function on a let’s-see-what-happens-next basis! Foundations have to be laid and plans have to be followed through.’

  ‘I understand that. But I just want to know where your personal life features in all that foundation-laying and following through. Where do we feature in all that? I need to know, Matt, because I’m due to leave America in a couple of weeks…’

  Pinned to the spot, Matt refused to be told which direction he should take. He had embarked on a fling with her and had spared little thought for the temporary nature of what they had. She was due to leave the country and, since he wasn’t into long term situations, the nebulous matter of her departure didn’t impinge at all on his conscience.

  He had been clear as to what he wanted and she had readily agreed.

  Hell, hadn’t she come to America to sort herself out? Hadn’t she gone on the pill because she had been willing for an adventure?

  He uneasily cast his mind back to her shyness—that tentative, easygoing, sunny disposition that he still found endearing. His notions of her being a wild girl let loose in a big city had been crazily misplaced. Suddenly, like a jigsaw puzzle coming together with the final piece, Matt faced the truth that he had effectively spent the past few weeks subconsciously dodging, and he blanched at it. He had wanted her, and he had therefore talked himself into getting what he wanted by closing his eyes to the obvious.