Hot Boss, Boardroom Mistress

by Natalie Anderson

  She justified it for a few moments more—she was giving to him. She wanted to give everything to him. She loved him. She’d always loved him. And this one final time she’d show him exactly how much she loved him. Show it with her body not with the words that she didn’t have the courage to say.

  Then she’d leave. Not make things difficult by asking things from him that he simply couldn’t give. Not any more.

  She wriggled out of her bra and undies—a little nervous. Because last time she’d pulled a stunt like this it hadn’t exactly gone down well. But it was different now. She knew him. She knew what he liked and she knew he liked her touch.

  He stirred. Mumbled something. She stroked his cheek. She didn’t want him to wake yet, couldn’t bear for him to reject her again. She just wanted to love him this one last time.

  She moved slowly, smoothly, pressing a kiss to his roughened jaw.

  ‘Stay asleep,’ she whispered. ‘It’s just a dream.’

  ‘Amanda.’

  It wasn’t a dream. Jared could feel her fingers, her hair as it trailed across his face. He could smell her—fresh and warm.

  But he couldn’t open his eyes. So tired, so comfortable—so wonderfully comfortable.

  She was above him, he could feel her softness and it felt as if she was wrapped around him. Her hands touched the parts where he ached most—soothing, then stirring.

  He really tried to concentrate. This shouldn’t be happening. She was vulnerable. He’d stayed awake for hours last night, holding her, watching her sleep, wishing things were different. He’d drifted to sleep only as the first light of dawn was spreading in fingers through the three-quarters-drawn blinds and he was beyond tired now. Resistance was fading. Integrity slipping. Good intentions, oh, so quickly…gone.

  His hands lifted and he clutched her to him. She was soft. So soft and she melted all around him, over him. Her hair, her warm body, her wide, moist mouth. Oh, she was sweet.

  ‘Amanda?’

  ‘Shh.’ She kissed him. Kissed him as she’d never kissed him before and his mind refused to focus on anything else.

  And then her mouth, her beautiful mouth was moving down his body—kissing…

  ‘No,’ he gasped.

  She didn’t understand he couldn’t tolerate much. Too tired to maintain control. He’d come in another minute…another—

  She moved. Thank God she moved. He breathed. But then she touched him again. With her wet, intimate heart this time.

  He groaned, hoarse, aching. And as he instinctively tilted his hips, she slid down, enveloping him.

  ‘Jared.’ Her whisper, her plea, was his absolute undoing. Never had anyone spoken to him like that, with such longing, with such—oh, God, was it love?

  He cried out, voice mingling with hers as he both imploded and exploded.

  Long moments later he could almost think—she felt so good, so utterly good but he was spent. The delightful darkness pulled him down; his eyes refused to open. He held her close. Never so content. Never so complete.

  And then he slept.

  He kept his eyes closed when he woke, but he couldn’t stop the smile, enjoying the memory of that magic, hearing once more the way she’d said his name. Jared.

  He sat up in a rush, powered by that memory, turning to talk to her, wanting to make it right, now.

  He blinked at the empty stretch of bed beside him.

  He reached out a hand, spread fingers wide on the sheet, the dented pillow—it was cool. He threw back the cover and went in search of her. Refusing to think. Refusing to—

  It was there in the lounge. Unmissable, unavoidable.

  For the second time in his life Jared stared at a piece of paper and knew his world had stopped. Over fifteen years ago his mother had left him one too but there wasn’t even an envelope this time. Just a scrawl on a rough piece of paper that had been folded over. He didn’t need to read it to know it would tell him the most terrible thing that anyone could. But still he lifted it, opened it. Read only the words that mattered, cutting through the waffle—ignoring the dishonest, trying-to-soften-the-blow crap.

  I’m leaving. She’d already gone.

  I’m sorry. Sure she was.

  So far, so familiar. But then Amanda’s note took an even worse turn that his mother’s had.

  Thank you.

  For what? He scrunched it in his fist. The sex?

  And then he felt it. The bitterness burning his throat and nose. He raced to the kitchen, gulped a glass of water to keep the nausea down.

  Rage rose in its place. The glass shattered as he hurled it into the sink. Not enough, the smash wasn’t loud enough, the destruction not big enough to slake his ravenous anger.

  He gripped the edge of the cold steel bench, staring at the shards of glass, counting to keep control, waiting like rock for the need to lash out in savage violence to pass.

  She’d left him.

  She’d carved her name deep into his heart with the blunt edge of a dirty spoon and left the wound to fester. Poison flooded his veins and raced through every inch of his body. He turned, breathing hard, looked around his apartment—at the expensive furniture, the priceless art and the exquisite comfort. None of it mattered. He might as well be living under a bridge for all the happiness things brought. He had no peace. No satisfaction. No hope.

  And whose fault was it?

  His own. His rage turned inwards—on his thick-headed cowardice. He should have talked to her, should have told her what he’d been too scared to admit even to himself.

  This unbearable pain was the flip side of love and he deserved the agony, didn’t he? For she was the only woman he’d loved, the only woman he would ever love. And he’d been too terrified to tell her.

  Now he’d lost her. And he knew she wasn’t coming back.

  He walked through the lounge, hating every inch of it—the rug they’d rolled on, the windows she’d strolled in front of. His eyes lifted, to the painting she’d so admired. His stomach cramped again. All pleasure was gone from it. No way was he looking at it for a minute longer—he’d sell it, give it away, anything, but it had to be gone.

  He reached up with wide arms and lifted the thing from the wall. With the heavy load he turned; he’d put it face down on the table for now. But as he lowered it he exerted that touch too much pressure. It slid from him, falling fast, the canvas catching the corner of the coffee table. The rip was so quick he hardly heard it—but there it was, torn right through the middle.

  He looked down at the thing of beauty he had just destroyed.

  He was condemned.

  Chapter Sixteen

  AMANDA quickly walked to the entrance of the gallery, having checked everything she needed was in her bag. It was her fourth night out this week. But being busy didn’t make it better.

  She’d left the ad agency—Bronwyn had said she was sorry to lose her, but Amanda knew it was for the best. If they were doing yet more work for Jared, there was no way she could be involved and it freed up funds in the agency for them to employ someone more experienced.

  She’d found another job on Exclusively Auckland—the monthly style and society magazine that was produced by the newspaper company. She’d gone for an advertising spot but somehow ended up as copywriter—covering arts and events. Those few communications papers she’d tossed in with her degree had come in handy, as had her photography hobby. But what had swung it all together were her social skills—while she wasn’t a toff, she could fake it, converse politely with any of them. Funny how her time at Eastern Bay School for Girls had turned out to be one of her greatest assets.

  And so in the last four weeks she’d attended every society event there was—exhibition openings, first performances, fundraisers, fashion launches, rugby matches and band debuts. And at each she’d talked to the VIPs, snapped the shots and written up the highlights. During the day she wrote fluffy advertorials on local fashion designers, artists and café owners.

  She ran a hand down her little black
dress, smoothing it. It was the second airing it had had this week. She’d had to become increasingly inventive with her accessories and combinations—but tonight she’d gone with pure simplicity.

  Lifting her hand to check her hair, she caught the scent of the expensive perfume she’d sprayed on as she’d walked through a department store on the way. She patted the smooth French roll, satisfied it was neat—and practical as well.

  The gallery owner smiled at her as she walked in. Already she was becoming known as ‘Amanda from the magazine’. She moved into action; she had a mental list of the ‘big guns’ due to attend—the soap stars, the politicians, and the businessmen whose pictures would help sell the copy. They all wanted their fifteen minutes—all happy to pose for a head-and-shoulders shot that would make it into the ‘been seen’ section.

  She’d circuited the vast interior once already before she stopped and actually looked at the walls of the gallery. There was some good stuff. Having checked off a few of her ‘must snaps’, she went to find the artists. Three were present. She talked with them, took photos of them beside their work.

  The fourth artist was missing but she went to his wall—drawn to a wide landscape depicting the milky blue of the southern lakes and the mountains rising high behind. In the foreground a lone hawk gazed back at her. It was just the thing Jared would love too—he would see the predator; she saw its vulnerability. She forgot her job and simply stood in front of it for a long time.

  ‘That one’s already sold.’

  She recognised the gallery owner’s voice right behind her.

  ‘The first to go tonight,’ the woman continued. ‘Let me introduce you to the buyer, he’s—’

  ‘We’ve met.’

  Amanda’s eyes closed for a heartbeat—the beat her heart had just missed at the sound of that voice. Her whole body flushed—hotter and then hotter still until it felt as if her skin were about to blister. It took another few beats before she was able to turn and look.

  He was in a tux. She’d never seen him in a tux. And, being the lord of night, he was smouldering, dangerous and compelling.

  ‘Right.’ The gallery manager filled the century-long void. ‘I’ll leave you to chat, then.’

  Amanda was fixed in place by those beautiful dark eyes. She gripped her pen harder, trying to regain some sense of reality—but all she could do was stare. There were a myriad emotions in his expression and she desperately wanted to understand each and every one. But it was hopeless.

  ‘It’s a beautiful painting.’ She kind of got her larynx to work.

  ‘I’m glad you think so.’ He didn’t look it. ‘You want an interview with me, Amanda?’

  ‘You don’t do publicity.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve made an exception for you.’ His eyes raked over her. ‘You’ve lost weight.’

  ‘So have you.’ His jaw was more defined than ever and her lips tingled—remembering the deliciously rough sensation of pressing against his skin.

  ‘I’ve been busy.’ She was staring so much her eyes were watering. That was why they were brimming, right? Because she hadn’t blinked.

  ‘So have I.’

  He stepped closer and despite her heat she shivered. Fever—he was like some tropical disease that she hadn’t a hope of beating, lost once more into the vortex of feeling she had for him: the burning black hole of love.

  His head was on an angle, he was watching her so closely, reading every single subtle sign—the response that she just couldn’t stop as he touched her, the lightest stroke of his finger across her nose, turning it so the back of his finger brushed down her cheek. She shivered more violently.

  ‘Don’t, Jared,’ she whispered. Don’t make me want you even more. Not again.

  ‘Have you missed me?’ His voice was so low and yet she heard it so clearly. Words that rubbed raw the deep hurt within.

  His eyes penetrated, darkly going below her flimsy layer of protection—did he see everything?

  With every breath she’d missed him. What would he do if she answered with that honesty? Yet she could not go back to how they were—couldn’t not have all of him.

  But he’d stepped closer and her body was begging for him to come closer still. Her heart hammered unevenly, madly, and her breathing was short and quick as she tried to get enough oxygen in—enough to be able to think, to protect. She had to protect herself. Her mind raced; she had to stop this.

  ‘I don’t want to be your mistress.’ She blurted the words out. ‘I understand if you don’t want to keep paying for Colin’s home and I’d appreciate it if you could let me know as soon as poss…as…poss…’

  She stammered and stopped. Her eyes were so wide they burned as she watched his face go white, the angle of his jaw sharpening, and a pale ring appear around his lips.

  He breathed in, lips parting only a fraction. As he spoke they barely moved more. ‘Get out. Go.’

  Fear flooded her. The look in his eye had been pure rage. Knowing he meant it, she ran, lightly stepping out of the side entrance to the gallery and cutting across the car park. She’d gone five paces when she heard his footsteps on the concrete behind her—fast and furious. With strides double the length of hers it was only a moment before he was right behind her.

  ‘Do you really think I’d do that?’ He grabbed her arm and pulled her round. ‘What the hell kind of person do you think I am? How could you think I’d do that to you?’

  Her heart thudded so fast she thought she might faint, or choke, or both. ‘I don’t know what to think of you, Jared.’

  ‘Do you really think I’m such a sleazy bastard as to use your grandfather? God, Amanda. That’s not what I want.’

  ‘I don’t know what you want. But I don’t want to owe you. I’ll pay you back—I’ve got a new job and I’m saving and I’ll—’

  ‘You owe me nothing!’ he shouted. ‘This was a debt I owed.’

  Looking at him hurt so much but she couldn’t stop.

  His chest was heaving and his eyes were full of bitter accusation. ‘You walked out on me.’

  ‘And you just told me to go.’

  ‘What the hell do you want from me?’ The words were torn from him.

  ‘Everything!’ She couldn’t hold hers back. ‘I’ve always wanted everything from you. But you rejected me.’

  ‘Is this about the night Colin moved up? The night I—’

  ‘Said no to me.’ When she’d needed him more than ever.

  He shifted, hands fisted as he loomed closer. ‘It really does come down to sex with you, doesn’t it, Amanda? All you want is sex.’

  ‘Rubbish!’ she shouted. ‘I wanted you to make love to me because it was just a tiny part of what I really wanted.’

  He frowned.

  ‘I wanted you to love me,’ she broke. ‘It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I know you don’t. I know you want me like that but I’ll never be the person you want by your side for ever. I don’t know that you’ll ever want someone by your side for ever.’

  He closed his eyes, veiling an expression of pain so intense it cut across her heart.

  ‘Jared—’

  ‘Do you love me?’ He sounded astounded.

  ‘Of course.’ She stared at him through the tears that were falling fast. ‘What on earth did you think I felt for you?’

  ‘I knew you wanted me.’ He shook his head. ‘You liked how I could make you feel.’

  ‘That’s just sex. And wonderful as it is it’s nothing on how you make me feel the rest of the time.’ She sniffed. ‘I hate how you make me feel. So insecure. So miserable. So lonely. I didn’t want to always be wondering when it was going to end.’

  He stared at her, looking as if the sky had just fallen in on him, and as if he couldn’t believe it.

  ‘Damn it, Jared, I’ve loved you for years. I’ve always loved you.’

  ‘Why?’ He looked so stunned her heart broke all over again.

  This, the boy who’d been abandoned by his mother and neglect
ed by his father. Who knew women could want him, but never love him?

  ‘How can you ask that? There’s everything to love about you.’

  He frowned again but she barrelled on. ‘Yes, I love your body. You know how much your body thrills me. You’re sex on legs and you know it and, yes, you’re the only man I’ve ever wanted like that and the extent to which I want that…you already know.’ She’d wanted him so much she’d ravished him. Repeatedly.

  ‘Your bank account I couldn’t care less about. I mean, I love what you’ve done for Grandfather. Of course I do. It’s just one example of how generous you are. How honourable. But I loved you for years before that. I loved the guy who came and worked on the farm and in Grandfather’s office. The guy who was so serious and sullen and yet who could make my day just by looking at me.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘How could you not know?’ she shrieked. ‘I’ve been throwing myself at you for ever. And you always rejected me.’

  ‘I thought you just wanted…I thought I was your bit of rough.’

  ‘Oh, Jared.’ She shook her head. ‘I thought I was just sex for you. That was all you wanted, that was how you set it up.’

  ‘I thought it was,’ he said slowly. ‘I really did. I thought the memory of you that night had somehow gotten under my skin—had become a fantasy that had to be played out.’ He blew out a hard breath and stepped closer, cupping her face with hands that were trembling. ‘Amanda, the truth is I love you.’

  As the tears washed down her cheeks his voice broke—the words emerging frantic and fast. ‘I’ve loved you for ever and I’ll love you the rest of my days.’

  He clutched her tightly to him and she tried to hold back the sobs and listen instead. ‘You were the spoilt princess back then, and part of me hated you. I was jealous, you had everything. But I wanted you—so beautiful and wild. I couldn’t have you—not when Colin had been so good to me. Meeting you again…I thought you were still the spoilt miss but once we started I found that all that was wrong. You were amazing—so generous, and I wanted more of what you could give. Finally I realised that just sleeping with you wasn’t going to be enough. I wanted you to be mine. But I was terrified.’