Her Bad, Bad Boss

by Nicola Marsh

  Jeez, had he misjudged her. Uptight, society princess couldn’t be further from the truth. Warm, passionate woman with a real zest for life would be more apt. And that was what scared him.

  He could handle keeping her at arm’s length while he viewed her as remote, untouchable, a fickle woman playing at something new for a while. But with every confidence revealed, with every heart-to-heart chat, with every intimate touch over the last few hours, she’d stripped away every logical, sane reason he should maintain his distance.

  A dull ache settled in his chest, a persistent, nagging twinge he remembered too well.

  He’d never forget the gut-wrenching agony of hearing the brother he adored had died, the never-ending days, months, where he slowly withdrew into himself until there was nothing left but to run. Run as fast and far as he could get from anything resembling emotional ties.

  While he’d built bridges with Callum over the last few years, they were still a long way from being close friends as many brothers were and it suited him just fine.

  Being close involved sharing confidences, sharing dreams, and he had a feeling his newly awakened starry-eyed brother wouldn’t understand the relentless, driving need for him to bolt from anything remotely resembling emotion.

  He’d never revealed the depth of his involvement with Claudia to Callum, had known his brother would see right through him: that he blamed himself for her death and would shoulder that guilt for the rest of his life, exactly how Callum had done following Archie’s death.

  He now understood why Callum had focused one hundred per cent on work after Archie’s death; for being so absorbed in business, so driven to succeed, so hell-bent on success at the cost of everything else, allowed you to forget.

  He’d done the same thing after Claudia died, throwing himself into building Wild Thing, pretending to relish the CEO role behind a desk, not returning here.

  It had helped for a time, distance from where it had happened allowing him to compartmentalise that part of his life and lock it away. Yet being back here didn’t stir up those memories half as much as what he’d done with Jade last night.

  It wasn’t the sex itself but the implied intimacy, the depth of feeling he’d glimpsed in her eyes when he’d been inside her that dredged up part of him best left forgotten, the part of him that dared to feel.

  It terrified him. Feeling. He’d loved Archie unreservedly and the pain of his death had shattered him, irrevocably setting him on a life path he still couldn’t veer from. Then Claudia had died, another person he’d risked caring about, cementing what he already knew: being emotionally invested led to eventual grief.

  He couldn’t bear going through any of that again: loving, losing, and that was exactly what would happen if he was foolish enough to let Jade into his heart.

  Jade stirred, wriggled closer, turning her face to bury it into his chest, and the very organ he’d do anything to protect lurched.

  Now he had the added guilt of this.

  Far from getting her out of his system, sex with Jade had only served to make him crave her more and he could see the whole scenario of the next few months playing out before his eyes.

  Sensational sex, more talks, growing increasingly attached, which would only serve to make him pull back, hurting her in the process.

  Just as he’d hurt Claudia doing the same thing; sadly for her, his inherent inability to grow emotionally attached had been fatal.

  Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to block out the feel of Jade snuggled close, tried to erase the image of the two of them doing this on a nightly basis for the rest of her time here.

  Most of all, he tried to eradicate the awful, sinking feeling that in such a short time she’d crashed through every preconceived notion he’d ever had and made him truly feel for the first time in for ever.

  Jade awoke to the pounding of an axe.

  Thud…thud…thud…

  She didn’t know whether the sound was real or some misplaced fantasy where Rhys had assumed the starring role of lumberjack.

  Stretching, she pried open one eye, then the other, surprised to see sun streaming through her bedroom windows. She hadn’t slept in once since she’d arrived here, preferring to wake at dawn and make the most of every second of every day.

  Something she’d certainly done last night and then some! Smiling like a well-satisfied woman, she rolled out of bed, wrapping the sheet around her as she padded across to the window.

  A small part of her had hoped she’d wake to find Rhys cuddled up next to her, but she’d given up on believing in fairy tales around the time she’d learned the truth about her parents’ marriage and Julian’s cheating.

  Rhys hadn’t made any promises last night. What they’d done was simple: indulge a mutual attraction that had been building towards consummation for a while now.

  Sex. Nothing more, nothing less.

  But the moment she caught sight of him, tan T-shirt wet and clinging to his broad chest, swinging an axe like a man possessed, the flump of her heart made a mockery of her ‘just sex’ declaration.

  Since when had she ever had just sex anyway?

  With a sigh she clutched the sheet tighter and rested her forehead against the glass, her body tingling with remembrance as she watched his muscles bunch and shift and flex across his chest, his torso, his arms, those strong, sure hands gripping the axe as they’d gripped her hips as he’d plunged into her again and again…

  Straightening, she rubbed at the huge condensation patch on the window from her heavy breathing, only to find Rhys looking up at her.

  He must’ve mistaken her cleaning action for a wave and now he’d know she’d been perving on him. So much for morning-after subtlety.

  Managing a sheepish grin, she waved, properly this time, the bubble of happiness cocooning her bursting with a resounding pop as he merely inclined his head and resumed the axe-swinging.

  Oh-oh. That nod didn’t look like the nod of a guy who’d had a fabulous night and wanted a repeat performance. That nod looked like the nod of a guy slamming the barriers back into place. A nod of regret, a nod of distance, a nod of the one-night stand.

  Calling him a rather choice name under her breath, she trudged towards the bathroom, trailing the sheet forlornly behind her.

  Today should’ve been a day for coy smiles and subtle flirting. From that aloof nod, today would be a day for tiptoeing around a hard-headed guy without a clue.

  Stepping into the bathroom, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and dropped the sheet in shock. Her eyes were shadowed, her lips swollen from long, slow kisses that lasted all night long, her skin a faint pink from the delicious abrading of his stubble.

  She looked like a woman who’d been thoroughly satisfied. Repeatedly.

  She also looked like a woman in no shape to face a recalcitrant guy hell-bent on doing some serious back-pedalling.

  And that hurt, a lot.

  No matter how much she could delude herself into believing last night was just about sex, she knew the truth. She would never have slept with him if she didn’t care.

  That made his rejection this morning all the harder to bear.

  She rubbed her stomach as it rebelled at the thought of walking downstairs and facing him for the first time since he’d rocked her world. Sitting across from him at the dining table, sharing breakfast, small talk, platitudes, all the while determinedly ignoring the persistent ache in her heart that he didn’t want to acknowledge what they’d shared last night.

  Bracing her hands on the vanity, she peered into the mirror, tilting her head from side to side.

  She was too easy to read, needed to hide her morning-after jitters with a good trowelling of make-up. Though how she’d hide the wounded expression in her eyes…With a groan, she swivelled away and padded across the marble tiles to the shower.

  She needed an action plan: hot bracing shower, blow-dried hair, make-up to hide a multitude of sins and businesslike outfit.

  Presenting a professional
front would surely help quell the nerves making her belly tumble?

  Only one way to find out.

  With a final swing Rhys buried the axe in the trunk so deeply he’d need the guys to help him pry it out.

  Swiping the sweat off his forehead, he risked a quick glance at the window where he’d spied Jade. Thankfully, she’d gone, but that didn’t ease the guilt lodged like a wood chip in his skin.

  Even from a distance, he’d seen the glow on her face, the tentative smile, the half wave. And what had he done? Acted like a jerk.

  Chopping wood was his way of working off steam, the relentless, monotonous job the perfect thinking time. Unfortunately, no matter how many logs he’d chopped this morning, he couldn’t forget last night and how she’d made him feel.

  Like a guy who could get used to having her around for as long as she stayed.

  He could see how the next few months would pan out: sharing the giant hot tub together, bumping hips as they stood side by side in the kitchen whipping up decadent suppers, lying in front of the fire, sated, like last night.

  He could see it all so clearly yet when he’d lain in bed this morning, wide awake while she dreamed, a tiny hint of a satisfied smile curling the corners of her mouth, something about seeing her so vulnerable had got to him.

  He’d told her he didn’t do relationships and she’d fired it right back at him. Made sense after what she’d been through. As long as she meant it maybe they had a shot at having some fun while she was here, nothing too deep.

  Then she’d woken, looked up at him with blatant tenderness, her eyes crinkled with sleep yet so easy to read, filled with an emotion that scared the hell out of him, and he’d known in an instant that no words could put boundaries around what was happening here.

  She was already in too deep.

  No matter how much he liked her, how much he’d love to indulge their mutual passion over the next few months while she was here, he knew the closer they grew, the harder it would be on her in the end.

  He couldn’t do that to her.

  After what she’d been through, she deserved better. Better than him and what he could offer.

  With a growl, he ripped off his T-shirt, welcoming the frosty bite of frigid air against his heated skin.

  He couldn’t stay out here all day. He’d have to face her eventually. Heading for the house and a hot shower, he thought, No time like the present.

  As Jade entered the kitchen she didn’t know what smelled more delicious: the mouth-watering aroma of sizzling bacon or the tempting scent of freshly showered male.

  Determined to play this cool and perky, she peeked over Rhys’s shoulder.

  ‘Something smells good.’

  He stiffened at her proximity, a disheartening reaction on a par with that distant nod.

  ‘Take a seat, I’ll dish up. You hungry?’

  Yeah, but not for food.

  When she didn’t answer, he glanced over his shoulder and she quickly nodded before sitting at the enormous granite-topped breakfast bar.

  ‘You must’ve worked up an appetite.’

  The skillet in his hand paused in midair, the fried egg in danger of slipping back into the pan as she belatedly realised her comment could’ve referred to their sexual gymnastics last night as much as his lumberjack impersonation.

  ‘Chopping all that wood.’

  He nodded in response, plonked her egg alongside rashers of crispy bacon, a hash brown and wholegrain toast.

  She could’ve let him off the hook. Instead, she toyed with her cutlery, glanced at him from beneath her lashes.

  ‘Must’ve been hard work, what with you having an axe to grind.’

  Sliding her plate in front of her, he scooted around the breakfast bar, preferring to keep a solid mass of marble between them. What did he think she was going to do—jump him?

  ‘I needed some time to think. Chopping wood helps with that.’

  ‘Right.’

  With her stomach churning, she forked some egg into her mouth, made an effort to chew and swallow, when her appetite had taken a nosedive around the time he’d chosen to remain at arm’s length.

  ‘Jade, I—’

  ‘What—?’

  They laughed.

  ‘Ladies first,’ he said, looking relieved he wouldn’t have to broach their awkwardness first.

  ‘What were you thinking about?’

  Rather than toying with her food, she laid her fork on the plate, pushed it away. The tiny mouthful of egg she’d managed to eat sat undigested in her gut, uncomfortable.

  To his credit, he didn’t look away.

  ‘Setting the record straight.’

  The egg curdled further.

  ‘About?’

  ‘Us. Last night.’

  If he gave her the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ line, she’d clobber him over the head with the still-hot frying pan.

  Pre-empting him, she held up a finger. ‘Let me guess. While it was fabulous, you don’t want a repeat. Because we work together. Because we practically live together. Because you don’t want a relationship. Yada, yada, yada.’

  The corners of his mouth lifted, admiration glimmering in his eyes.

  She didn’t want his admiration, damn it, she wanted his 1…What? Love? Uh-uh. Way too complicated. Way too much. Way too soon.

  But as she sat across from him in this glorious kitchen with its yawning granite bench-tops and pristine stainless-steel appliances and state-of-the-art fridge, the pale morning sun filtering through the wide windows and bathing him in an incandescent glow, she knew that all the protests in the world couldn’t deny it.

  She might have fallen in love with her boss.

  Inwardly cringing, she clasped her hands together in her lap to stop from strangling herself.

  ‘Isn’t that the spiel you were going to give me?’

  He shook his head. ‘No spiel. I just wanted to clear the air.’

  ‘Didn’t know it was murky to begin with.’

  She wouldn’t give an inch, wouldn’t let him see how his inevitable pulling-away speech hurt.

  Muttering a curse, he rubbed his jaw, drawing her attention to it and the telltale stubble there. She’d never seen him anything but groomed and clean-shaven, and the sight of that stubble proved what she already knew.

  He’d been so wound up about last night he’d bolted for his axe marathon without taking the time to shave.

  Sighing, she slammed her palms on the bench-top, leaned forward.

  ‘Give it to me straight. No bull.’

  His eyes widened a fraction before he nodded. ‘You want it straight? Fine. What happened last night can’t happen again.’

  Tilting her chin up, she eyeballed him. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it’s complicated.’

  ‘You sure? From where I was, the sex was—’

  ‘I’m not talking about that and you damn well know it.’

  She did, but she enjoyed having him on the back foot and, for some perverse, masochistic reason, needed to hear him articulate exactly what was going on.

  ‘So explain this complication to me.’

  He pushed off the bench-top, swung around to stare out of the window, before turning back to face her, his expression shuttered.

  ‘I don’t do relationships.’

  ‘Neither do I.’

  ‘You were engaged, for God’s sake!’

  ‘Exactly why I’m not heading down that track again.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Haven’t we already established all this?’

  Pinching the bridge of his nose, he took a few moments to come up with another offensive. Bring it on, Ranger.

  ‘Look, this will sound lame, but I don’t do the sleeping-together-living-together thing. Let’s just leave it at that.’

  ‘Let’s not.’

  She’d asked for no bull. All she’d got was a truckload of the stuff, freshly dumped.

  His mouth thinned in rebellion. So he was stubborn? Big deal. She could out-stubborn him and then some. />
  Stalking around the bench, she stood toe to toe with him, his freshly showered scent putting a serious dent in her full head of steam.

  Exhaling in an exasperated huff, she jabbed him in the chest. ‘What happened last night was a result of us dancing around each other for ages. We’re attracted to each other. We’re consenting adults—what’s the big deal?’

  ‘The big deal is—’

  ‘Rhetorical question. Let me finish.’

  Another jab, harder this time, to ram her point home. ‘The harassment thing is moot. Mutual all the way. No expectations either side, so how hard can this be?’

  A plethora of emotions flickered across his face, from hope to regret, obstinacy to optimism, before he finally settled for resignation.

  ‘You ever had a one-night stand?’

  Confused, she shook her head. ‘No.’

  ‘Consider last night your first.’

  Pain slashed through her, sharp, brutal, her hand falling uselessly to her side as she stepped back, anxious to put as much space between them as possible.

  He stood there like a statue carved from stone, just as rigid, just as cold.

  Swallowing the lump welling in her throat, she silently prayed her voice remained steady.

  ‘Guess my judgement’s way off again.’

  Her gaze flicked over him, scathing, derisive. ‘Never would’ve picked you for a bastard too.’

  Turning on her heel, she fled without a backward glance.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘WHERE’S Jade?’

  Trying not to wince at Cody’s question as they unloaded supplies, Rhys grunted as he hoisted a particularly heavy box.

  ‘She’s not feeling well.’

  Not that he actually knew, considering she hadn’t spoken to him since their confrontation that morning.

  He could barely stomach what he’d done, what he’d said to push her away. Yet despite his roiling gut and hideous guilt, he knew it was ultimately for the best.

  Short-term pain for long-term gain. That was what he’d been telling himself all day and he’d better stick to it before he marched into the east wing and broke down her door to grovel on his knees and apologise.