Hot Boss, Boardroom Mistress

by Natalie Anderson

  She and the nurse walked from the plane straight to the rental car waiting for them at the airport. It was amazing what money could do. Jared had been right. She’d visited the home and they’d confirmed a place for the next week. It seemed that with the right amount of money anything you wanted could happen.

  No wonder he thought he could get her to move too. It’d be just another transaction to make his life more convenient.

  ‘I’ll drive if you like,’ the nurse offered. ‘You have a rest before seeing your grandfather.’

  The woman was worth her weight in gold. And Jared was probably paying her in it. Amanda closed her eyes and let her drive.

  Things went smoothly once they arrived. Having the nurse with her meant she had a buffer from the rest-home staff. Colin was dressed and ready. She’d talked to him every night this week, explaining that she was coming to get him so he could live nearer, but not going into too much detail to confuse or stress him. The specialist at the new home had instructed her on how to handle it. She could only be guided by his expertise. Determinedly hiding her own anxiety, she introduced the nurse as her friend who was coming on the trip with them. Her grandfather smiled.

  Jared looked at his watch—again. She’d be at the rest home, just as she would have been forty seconds ago when he’d last looked at his watch and thought about where she was, how she was. He seemed to have developed some sort of nervous tic—obsessive watch-checking.

  Obsessiveness full stop.

  What the hell did the woman want?

  He gave up on the report on his desk and went to look out of the window. Still wondering how it was going. Whether she was OK. Whether he should have gone. But he hadn’t wanted to go—didn’t want to face the old man. Just in case Colin remembered that he hadn’t wanted him involved with his granddaughter. He hadn’t thought Jared was good enough for her. But things were different now, right? He wasn’t the person he’d been back then. He had money now—lots of money. A great job. Respect. Dignity.

  That was what the old man had wanted, right?

  But Jared couldn’t be sure. Or was it something intrinsic, something so much a part of his nature that it couldn’t be divorced from him, that the old man had determined wasn’t good enough for his precious girl?

  Maybe there was something unwanted about him—something his mother hadn’t wanted. That nobody wanted.

  Linda Dixon had been merciless. When he’d tried to politely refuse her advances she’d simply come on stronger. When he’d been firmer, she’d got nasty. Said she could make life very difficult for him—could cost him his jobs. But it had been the ravings of a bitter, frustrated woman, right?

  ‘You’re a stud, Jared. It’s all you have to offer a woman, but it’s enough to get by. You’ll never amount to anything else. You should make the most of your assets now before you fall apart like your father.’

  Like your father. He had fought like anything not to be like him. He worked hard, was reliable, efficient, honest.

  But even so, was he like him? In the sense that he couldn’t commit to a relationship—couldn’t give whatever it was that would keep that person with him. Jared knew his father hadn’t been interested in either his wife or his son. He’d been selfish—only taking what he wanted—which in the end was simply enough of the stuff in the bottle.

  Was Jared as selfish? As susceptible to addiction? Wasn’t he addicted now? It was just that his stimulant of choice was Amanda. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything and he craved her in a way that he wasn’t sure was at all normal.

  But it was just want. His life had not enabled him to love or be loved.

  His fingers itched. He could send her a text, see how she was. But he didn’t think he’d get a reply—and he’d far rather hear it in her voice, so he could catch the nuances and pick up on any unspoken tension or relief. He ached to know.

  Damn. Why hadn’t she agreed to move? Didn’t she want him any more? But he knew she did; she’d ravished him last night with a hunger that was in no way satisfied, not yet. So why so angry about the apartment idea? It was an arrangement that would give them all the benefits of a relationship and none of the…

  What?

  He put a hand on the cold pane of glass and asked himself.

  None of the angst? Concern? Complications?

  Yet here he was already unable to work, unable to relax, for the worry about how she was getting on today. Wanting to talk to her, to help her, wanting to be with her…

  The complications were already there.

  And he was an idiot.

  He pressed both hands on the glass. She was right. His offer had been an insult. He’d pretty much asked her what Linda had asked of him—but without the threat.

  He’d treated her as a plaything, not a person.

  But he hadn’t meant it like that. God knew he hadn’t meant it. But his offer had still been based in utter selfishness. He’d wanted her on his terms. Safe, emotionless terms. And in doing so he’d hurt her. Sure she’d been angry, proud, strong. But he’d seen it—the overbright flash in her eyes, the determination to hold herself away from him…

  All of a sudden he couldn’t breathe.

  Why had she been so hurt? Had she actually wanted more?

  He jerked away from the window. No. He knew what she wanted—she’d implicitly agreed to it, hadn’t she? A few weeks of physical fun and that was it…hell, she was the one who chose to leave his bed every night.

  She wanted him as her lover and nothing else. And he had nothing more to give.

  But he was in a bind. She was right, he’d needed to think about what he really wanted, then they’d talk. But he couldn’t open up to her…

  His heart thundered in his chest. Risk. The greatest risk of his life—he, who’d played with fortunes for fun back in his banking days, was more terrified now about simply opening his mouth. Because he wasn’t sure how he’d cope if he lost her for good.

  He formulated a strategy—the heat between them fried his brain—if he was going to be able to express himself then he needed some control. He had to remove sex from the equation—at least until he knew.

  He nodded to himself. Right. He wasn’t going to be with her again until they had their relationship sorted out.

  Relationship.

  He breathed out. Whispered the word. Rolled it round in his mouth. A funny little glow burned in his chest. Hell, he was going soft. But he liked the idea of having her around. For as long as she wanted, as much as she wanted. He frowned—there was the rub. She could go at any time. Could he try to keep her happy? Keep her wanting to be with him? He didn’t know that he could. He hadn’t been able to keep his own mother wanting him—what hope did he have with a woman like Amanda?

  The sexual attraction between them was undeniable. But if it burned out, did she feel there was anything else binding them together? He closed his eyes, trying to quell the anxiety.

  He had no choice but to ask—find out what she wanted, and see whether they could keep this thing going. Adrenalin surged through him. His muscles sharpened, he was ready to fight, now knowing what he was fighting for—more time together.

  What had been her recipe for a happy marriage? Best friends, support, love. He wasn’t capable of the total commitment—but two out of three might do it. Could she accept that?

  He had to try. He had to do that for her.

  The flight went as well as she could have hoped. Colin was happy to be with her. She’d said she was taking him to stay at a nice new place. Going over the basics she’d been saying on the phone. She helped him into the front seat of Jared’s car. The nurse climbed into the back, clearly used to riding in such luxury.

  The staff at the new place were welcoming with wide smiles and offered to send along a tray with tea and muffins as soon as they were settled in. She took a breath as she saw the room they’d prepared—stunning, with a magnificent view across the beautiful gardens. He could watch the sport. She could call in any time. There was ev
en a room for her to stay the night should she want to. He’d be safe. Well cared for. And the country’s leading specialist in geriatric medicine was at the hospital down the road.

  It wasn’t ’til after the tea tray arrived that Grandfather started to lose it. Alone with him, she helplessly tried to calm his agitation. But no matter what she said it worsened until he was beside himself—his eyes blank, panicked, a frightened old man, shouting. The nurses came, the doctor, gently calming him, administering a sedative and lifting him onto the bed.

  Inside she crumpled—hating the destructive illness. Wishing there was something more she could do. Wishing to see him happy—desperate to have him back.

  The doctor said the stress of the move might make him more confused for a few days but that he’d settle down again. The reassurance didn’t help. Doubts about everything brought her own despair to the surface.

  The doctor then looked closely at Amanda and told her to go home. Colin would sleep through the night now and she’d be more help to him by appearing early in the morning refreshed and breezy. But she lingered, sorting through his things, setting up the photo frames, the small items of familiarity he’d had at the old home.

  It was after eight when she got into the car. There was only one destination. She needed to see him, to feel his touch, to have just that fraction of what she really wanted.

  She drove to Jared.

  The tears started ten minutes into the journey and were streaming by the time she pulled into the garage beneath his apartment complex. By the time she exited the lift she was barely able to walk.

  Tired, hopelessly confused and terrified she was doing the wrong thing in everything. She’d never felt so alone or uncertain in all of her life. Never felt so in need of comfort. She was barely able to gulp back the sobs; her throat, eyes and heart were lumps of burning pain.

  She’d give in. She’d take the crumbs. She’d take whatever it was he could offer for as little or as long as he wanted. Because right now she needed him. Needed his arms around her and his strength inside her.

  She fumbled with the door key, hardly able to see for the way her tears were rippling her vision. And then it opened from within. Jared’s features swam before her.

  She was so relieved more tears fell. She hadn’t expected him to be there but he must have been home for a while because he was barefoot and tousled in tee shirt and jeans.

  ‘What happened?’ She only half saw it, but she clearly heard his frown—heavier than lead.

  She stepped just inside the door and waited as he closed it. As he turned back to her she put her arms around his neck. Not wanting to talk, just wanting to forget and to feel. ‘Kiss me.’

  ‘No.’ He didn’t move.

  Her fingers threaded into his hair and she pressed down hard, wanting to bring his head closer to hers.

  His hands gripped her wrists, and he removed her arms, pinning them to her sides. ‘No, Amanda.’

  She didn’t understand. Refused to believe.

  She leaned forward, sinuously pressing her breasts and pelvis against his body. ‘Kiss me, Jared.’

  He stepped back, hands sliding up to her upper arms, forcing her to stand alone. ‘No.’

  No.

  She heard him then.

  No. No. No.

  She was blind to everything but that denial; her tears splashed on her arm—on his hand.

  Oh, God, he was rejecting her again right when she needed him most. Right when she was ready to give in and accept anything from him—no matter how little. Now he was taking it all away.

  She wrenched away from him. Running.

  ‘Amanda!’

  She curled her fingers round the key that she still held—gripping it so tightly her skin was almost pierced by its jagged edge. Not caring that it was his car she was going to escape him with. The lift was still on his floor. She jabbed at the buttons, shutting the door, stopping him from coming in after her.

  In the cool gloom of the basement the lights flicked on his car as she pressed the button on the key. She was in and hit the ignition. The engine purred. She jerked the stick into gear. But then she turned on the windscreen wipers instead of the lights.

  ‘Damn!’ Bloody European car.

  That smallest, silliest of things was the final straw.

  She screamed. Gripping the steering wheel as she bent her head over it and howled with the pain and guilt and sheer soul-destroying loneliness. A raw, violent sound that cracked and lurched as she sobbed uncontrollably.

  The door opened.

  ‘You’re in no condition to drive.’ His voice was rough but his hands were gentle as he slid one under her, the other behind her back, and carried her back to the lift.

  Her fist clenched on his chest. She could feel his heart pounding. He must have flown down those stairs to have kept pace with that supersonic lift.

  ‘I hate you,’ she choked. He’d hurt her and now she had nothing left, not even pride as she broke. The world crumpled and she screwed up her eyes, unable to stop the rivers flowing from them.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He held her close as the lift whizzed up. Walked straight into the apartment—his door still open wide from the crazy sprint they’d both taken. He kicked it and it slammed behind him. Five strides later he was at the sofa and sitting on it; his grip loosened a little then but she didn’t have the energy to pull up and away. Every ounce of her had succumbed to grief.

  And her thoughts went back to her grandfather. To the terror and despair of those moments before she’d called for the doctor. She cried and cried and cried for the loss of the only parent she’d known, for the heartbreak at seeing him fade. For seeing such a strong, vital man cowed and childlike and so vulnerable. And for her inability to protect him. She’d let him down.

  ‘I should have done more. I should have been there more.’ She sobbed, barely coherent.

  His lips were on her hair as he answered. ‘You did everything you could.’

  ‘It should have been more.’ Her voice rose. ‘I never should have left.’

  ‘You were young. You had to leave home. He wouldn’t have wanted you to stay.’

  ‘I should have gone back more often. I should have seen it sooner.’ She was so sorry. So unbearably sorry. ‘I wish he’d told me.’

  ‘He’s not himself.’

  And now she was alone.

  Eventually Jared stopped trying to reason with words and just soothed with shushing sounds and gentle strokes down her back. Rocking her and listening and being supportive as best he could. Forcing his own lust down, just cradling her like the sad friend she was. She needed arms and ears more than passionate aerobics. She was in no state for it and he didn’t want to confuse things more.

  He didn’t want to bury her emotion and pain in what was, at present, only a temporary fulfilment. And he wanted to know all her secrets, her fears and sense of loss. And then he wanted to fix it somehow.

  His heart filled to bursting as he felt the break in hers. Felt the honesty in her love and sadness for her grandfather. She loved him. And Jared wished he’d had someone to care for him as deeply as that. A family. A real kind of family that was there through thick and thin—those people who made mistakes with each other but who forgave and who still loved regardless.

  But he couldn’t believe that he could ever make that family with Amanda.

  After a long while he moved. She’d cried herself to sleep and his arms were beyond aching and right on into numb. He didn’t care. Didn’t want to give up the burden of her. He carried her into his bedroom. Laid her down and loosened her clothing, shrugged out of his own. Slipping between the soft sheets, he pulled her towards him, curling around her, listening to her jagged breathing and the occasional hiccup.

  Hours later he still couldn’t sleep, lay with his head propped on his hand watching her face in the dim room. Her cheeks were pale, a bit blotchy, tear-stained and tired. He bit the inside of his cheek, feeling a strange stinging at the back of his own eyes. He clamped hi
s teeth together then. She made him weak. But somehow she made him strong too. He needed the morning to come. Needed to be able to talk to her when she was calm and rested.

  Only problem being that he was far from calm, and found any kind of rest impossible.

  Chapter Fifteen

  AMANDA woke, her eyes so heavy they wouldn’t open properly. They must be totally puffy. Man, she must be a sight. She lay still, trying to ignore the headache, but it thudded anyway.

  She was in his bed and he was an arm’s length away, sound asleep and, as far as she could tell, naked.

  And despite last night’s outpouring, her eyes watered again. More for him this time than for her grandfather.

  It hurt—she winced and tried to blink them back. Enough already.

  He’d refused her last night, when she had wanted him so badly. He’d torn her heart right through and all the pain had tumbled out. But even though it hurt she couldn’t blame him. Couldn’t hate him how she’d really like to. He could never give her what she wanted. She understood that now. He simply didn’t have those feelings in him—not for her. That was why he’d made the offer he had. He hadn’t understood her angle—hadn’t even thought that she longed for something more. He just wanted her around for fun-filled nights. Not needing or wanting anything else. Happy to pay the money to make it more convenient, surprised that she’d been angry. At least he hadn’t worked out why she’d been so angry. At least she thought he hadn’t then, he must know now. But she was beyond the humiliation.

  It no longer mattered. She knew what she had to do. It would be difficult now that Grandfather had moved here, but distance should be able to be maintained. Jared wasn’t about to go visit him. And if she found a new place, got a new job, there would be no reason for their lives ever to intersect again. It would be over.

  But there was one last thing she couldn’t resist. Was it wrong to take advantage of a man when he was vulnerable—physically at least? She figured he wouldn’t really mind. It was merely sex for him and she knew how much he enjoyed it. And she wanted one last memory to take with her.