Beware of the Boss

by Leah Ashton

They needed to talk about what was going to happen tomorrow at work.

  Lanie knew that.

  But she couldn’t quite do it.

  Of course neither of them had spoken about what was going on. Or about what was going to happen next.

  All they had was this remarkable electric connection between them—but then, that was just physical attraction. Chemicals.

  It didn’t mean Gray wanted anything more from her than this weekend.

  It didn’t mean that she wanted anything more.

  Did she?

  They sat together on the balcony adjacent to Gray’s bedroom. Dinner—a platter of cheeses and antipasto they’d thrown together—was on a small table, but they’d both stopped eating a while ago.

  The sun was well on its way to dipping beneath the Indian Ocean’s horizon. It was deep and red as it sank lower amongst the clouds it streaked in purples, oranges and gold.

  Once the sun disappeared, then she’d talk to Gray.

  But say what, exactly?

  She had no idea.

  Beneath them a cream-coloured, clearly extremely expensive sedan, turned into Gray’s driveway.

  Gray swore, and she raised an eyebrow in his direction.

  ‘My dad,’ he said in explanation, pulling himself to his feet.

  And then, without another word, he walked back into his room. Moments later she could hear the thud of his feet on the stairs.

  Lanie watched as a tall man—she would have instantly identified him as Gray’s father anyway—opened the passenger side door for a delicate woman. She wore a polka-dot sundress, stacked platform heels and huge, oversized Hollywood sunglasses.

  She looked exactly like the type of woman she’d expect Gray to date. Perfect, straight from the pages of a magazine—kind of the way Sienna was dressed in that Paris photo-shoot, in fact.

  Lanie looked down at herself. She’d only gone home briefly to grab some clothes, but her wardrobe didn’t have anything like that woman’s dress inside it regardless. She wore faded jeans, leather sandals and a loose camisole top. Very casual, very relaxed.

  She’d felt good in what she was wearing. Thanks to Gray she’d felt good about everything she’d been wearing—or not—all weekend. Until about two minutes ago.

  The front garden was now empty, and Lanie could hear the murmur of voices in the kitchen, followed by footsteps ascending the stairs.

  ‘Lanie?’

  Gray was standing at the doorway to his room and Lanie stood, stepping through the billowy curtains onto the thick carpet.

  ‘My dad and his wife have surprised me with a homemade dinner.’

  Gray sounded several notches below thrilled.

  ‘Okay...’

  And?

  Lanie wished fervently that she’d got her act together earlier, or even that the sun had set faster. Then she would know what was going on—she’d know if Gray expected her to stay or if he wanted her to disappear into the distance.

  As it was, she just felt terribly awkward. As if it was somehow her fault for being here.

  She explored Gray’s expression for some hint of what he was thinking.

  But it was difficult. He wasn’t even looking at her. Instead, he was looking past her—at the setting sun, maybe, or quite possibly at nothing at all.

  Definitely not at her.

  Lanie stiffened her shoulders. It had been so long since Gray had looked at her like this—or rather not looked at her, she’d forgotten how much it hurt. Or at least she’d thought she’d forgotten.

  But just like that—just one dismissive glance—and she remembered. She remembered that first morning at the beach, when she’d felt invisible.

  Last night he’d told her she was far from invisible.

  Beautiful words she’d so pathetically wanted to hear.

  But his glance now told her that was all they were—beautiful, meaningless words.

  ‘Do you want to stay for dinner?’ he asked.

  She should have been pleased, but she wasn’t. There was no question now about what Gray wanted her to do. And it wasn’t to sit down for a cosy dinner with his family.

  The simplest thing, probably the smartest, would have been to come up with some excuse for why she needed to go. Easier for her—she could pretend to be a breezy, fancy-free woman who had incredible weekend flings without a care in the world—and much, much easier for him. But she just couldn’t.

  ‘Do you want me to stay?’

  She needed to hear him say it. She needed the answer to the question she should have asked hours ago: What’s going to happen tomorrow?

  Gray’s gaze flicked to hers and held, and for once she wished he’d kept on looking out of the window. Because seeing him looking at her—truly looking at her when he spoke—meant she already knew the answer. And, stupidly, when she’d asked it she’d still held the smallest smidgen of useless hope.

  ‘It’s probably better if you go,’ he said.

  Lanie nodded.

  There—she had her answer.

  Tomorrow, nothing was going to happen. Because whatever they’d had, it was over.

  She followed Gray out of the house, past the curious glances of Gray’s father and his beautiful, perfect wife and out through the front door.

  He didn’t walk her to her car. He barely looked at her.

  She was—once again—utterly and completely invisible.

  He muttered something about work, but Lanie could barely hear a thing past the furious mix of anger and humiliation that powered through her veins.

  * * *

  Lanie considered skipping her morning swim the next day.

  In fact lying in bed for as long as possible had very significant appeal.

  But a mixture of things—Bob’s words, partly, but mostly her own need to feel the drag of the ocean against her skin—hauled her from her bed. Earlier than normal, though. With luck, she’d be long gone before Gray made his way down to the beach. If he came down at all.

  She didn’t wear a wetsuit. The perfect almost-summery weather had persisted, although it was still far from warm this early in the morning. She thought maybe the full brunt of the cool water would help knock some sense into her.

  Or something, anyway.

  Stroke, stroke, breathe. Stroke, stroke, breathe.

  It was her racing breathing pattern, and her stroke rate was well up. This wasn’t a leisurely swim while she let her mind drift. She was powering through the water, slicing through it as fast as she could.

  Every muscle in her body ached. She hadn’t warmed up properly. She hadn’t intended to swim like this—to swim this fast.

  But she couldn’t help herself. She needed to do this. Needed to remind herself of the speed she was capable of. Of her power.

  This she could control. She couldn’t control the outcome of the team selection trials. She couldn’t control the contrast between her sister’s success and her own. She couldn’t control whether Gray wanted more from her than a weekend. And it seemed she certainly couldn’t control how she felt about that.

  But she could control her body. She could harness the height and the strength she’d been born with, the years of training and perfecting her technique. She could swim, and swim brilliantly.

  Her arms tangled in something and she came to an abrupt halt. She gasped, treading water, as she took a moment to register exactly what she’d swum into.

  Seaweed—browny-green and curling. She pulled it from her arm, then rotated on the spot to look back towards North Cottesloe beach.

  She was breathing heavily. She was far from race-fit and her body wasn’t used to such punishment.

  But, strangely she quite liked the ache in her lungs, the way her chest was heaving and the way her legs felt heavy as they move
d in the water.

  She felt alive. Wide awake. Not in that fog of hurt and anger she’d been existing in since she’d driven away from Gray’s house last night.

  She’d been so, so stupid.

  As if Gray had ever suggested he wanted anything more from her than an opportunity for them both to explore the unexpected electricity between them.

  He hadn’t promised her anything. He hadn’t even implied.

  And yet she’d relaxed into his world with him over the weekend—she’d relaxed around him. She’d let down the walls that she’d so carefully built—walls intended to keep her from hurt just like this.

  She was angry with him for the way he’d treated her last night. But mostly she was angry at herself. She should never have allowed herself to be in that situation. It should never have happened.

  She swam back to the shore much more slowly, taking her time and keeping her head above water as she swam leisurely breaststrokes. It seemed Bob was onto something, although today she couldn’t say that swimming was making her happy.

  But it helped.

  THIRTEEN

  Just before nine a.m., Lanie strode into his office.

  He’d been there for hours, arriving even before sunrise. His theory had been that the familiarity of work would be a good distraction.

  The fact he even needed a distraction bothered him. His time with Lanie was never going to be anything long-term, let alone permanent. He’d always known that, and he assumed Lanie had too.

  He hadn’t really planned on it being quite so short, but really it was for the best.

  His father’s raised eyebrows and blunt questions after Lanie had left only underlined that.

  ‘Who is she?’

  ‘A work colleague?’

  ‘Not a girlfriend?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  At the time he’d answered his father’s questions honestly.

  She wasn’t his girlfriend. But later he’d felt uncomfortable, as if he’d lied.

  Which was just stupid.

  Now he just needed to apologise to Lanie for the awkwardness of last night and for causing her rushed exit—and that would be that.

  But he didn’t really believe that. He had a pretty good idea what was going to happen. The odd thing was, he wasn’t happy about it.

  Lanie came right up to his desk. Onto it she dropped a brilliant white envelope, his name neatly typed on its front.

  ‘My letter of resignation,’ she said.

  Yes, exactly as he’d expected.

  ‘You don’t have to do that.’

  She laughed. ‘Ah, I think I do, Gray. You made that pretty clear last night.’

  He pushed his chair back and came around to her side of the desk. He could see her considering and then resisting an impulse to back away. She stood her ground, of course—it was what she did.

  He could count on one hand the other people who stood up to him, but he liked it that she did. Really, really liked it.

  She’d forced him to see her properly, to really notice her—and to want to understand her.

  Over the weekend he’d begun to think that maybe he did.

  Which was fanciful. A weekend plus a handful of walks along the beach was nothing. It was as silly a romantic notion as his imagining of Lanie as an ocean nymph.

  That should have been the red flag—the flashing stop sign he’d needed. At the time he’d ignored the warnings. It had been his dad arriving with his head still in the sparkling, naïve clouds about Wife Number Seven that had finally galvanised him.

  He wasn’t about to get caught up in the moment the way his father was so apt to do. To extrapolate a simple weekend of fun into something much, much more. No way.

  Especially now. Manning couldn’t afford the risk.

  ‘I mean it. Although of course I understand if you want to move on. But you’re welcome to stay. I’m sure we can retain our professional relationship.’

  Lanie snorted with laughter.

  ‘Professional like how we kissed in Vietnam? Or, even better, how we spent most of the weekend naked in your bed? Yeah, that was super-professional.’

  She was trying to brazen it out, but he didn’t miss the pink hint to her cheeks.

  He didn’t know why he was trying to argue with her. She was right. Their working together was not a smart idea. Standing this close to her only made that reality more clear.

  Despite how inappropriate it was to be thinking it right this second, all he wanted to do was reach out and touch her. To drag her into his arms and carry on as if yesterday evening had never happened. To take them back to those moments as she’d watched the sun set over the Indian Ocean and all he’d been watching was her.

  ‘I believe my contract requires two weeks’ notice,’ she said, when he remained silent. ‘I’ll honour that, of course. I’m sure the agency will be able to find a suitable replacement in that time.’

  Gray just nodded.

  He tried to hold her gaze, tried to interpret what she was thinking. Usually it was easy—she had such a direct way of looking at him. Direct and open, as if all her thoughts and feelings were on display.

  But this morning it was different. She wasn’t looking straight at him. She was looking at a spot on his shirt, or over his shoulder. Not at him.

  She turned on her heel to walk away, but he reached out, touched her arm.

  Just enough to stop her rapid exit—then his hand fell away.

  ‘I apologise for last night,’ he said. ‘I was very rude. I—’

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘It’s fine.’ She laughed. ‘I don’t think our weekend was really an appropriate prelude to dinner with the in-laws, do you?’

  She made their weekend sound...like what?

  He couldn’t argue with her. She made it sound exactly as it was—a bit of fun. A fling. A weekend. Nothing more.

  ‘You’ve got nothing to apologise for, Gray. We both knew what we were getting into, and it was fun while it lasted. But I think we can both agree it’s for the best that it’s over. You’re not interested in anything long-term. And I...’ There was a long, long pause. She swallowed. ‘We both know that my life is messy right now. I need to sort myself out, figure out where my life is taking me now I don’t have a medal to reach for. You’ve actually helped me realise that. And you’re right—this job is not where I should be. Especially now.’

  He didn’t want to believe her. She’d been upset last night. Angry.

  As if he’d hurt her. But she spoke today as if she’d wanted nothing more than he had.

  As if she agreed that it was for the best it was over almost before it started.

  Did she mean it?

  He gave himself a mental shake. Of course she did. And if she didn’t what was he going to do? Would anything about the situation change?

  Of course not. He knew he’d done the right thing. He should be glad that she agreed—that in fact he hadn’t hurt her feelings the way he’d feared.

  What sort of person would he be if he wasn’t?

  ‘You don’t have to give notice,’ Gray said. ‘Actually, if you’d prefer, you can finish immediately.’

  Lanie blinked and her mouth dropped open. ‘But you have meetings all day, and I’m only halfway through that report—’

  ‘I’ll manage,’ he said, cutting her off. ‘Really. And I’ll pay out your notice period, too, to give you a chance to find another job.’

  She bristled. ‘If I’m not working for you, you’re not paying me.’

  He shrugged. ‘Then it’s up to you.’

  She chewed on her bottom lip.

  ‘Okay. I’ll finish up what I’m
working on. It should only take a few hours.’

  Then she nodded sharply, as if to confirm her decision, before finally walking out of his office.

  After lunch Gray had a meeting across the city that ran well over time. By the time he returned Lanie was gone, her desk completely spotless.

  It was for the best.

  * * *

  Teagan had arrived with a very large box of chocolates.

  She thrust them at Lanie as she opened the door. ‘I have no idea what this is about, but I thought calories and soft centres might help.’

  ‘I’m sorry to worry you,’ Lanie said. ‘Honestly, it’s not that big a deal...’

  Her friend held up her phone to Lanie as they walked into the lounge room, her text message clearly displayed.

  ‘Ahem...’ she said, ‘“Call me, please. I need to talk to you.” And no smiley face. So I knew it was serious.’

  ‘I sent it at a low point of my day,’ Lanie said. Just after she’d resigned. ‘It was possibly over-dramatic.’

  Teagan studied her sceptically. ‘Right. Because you’re so inclined towards hysterics.’

  Lanie located a bottle-opener and went to work uncorking the Cabernet Sauvignon she’d picked up on the way home. When Teagan had called she’d asked her to come over after work instead. At the time she’d thought it would be easier than explaining the past few weeks over the phone. But now she had a sneaky suspicion she’d just been delaying talking about Gray.

  But she did need to talk. She figured she’d just get it all out and then it would really be done. Over.

  Although that was what she’d thought resigning would achieve.

  Right in the middle of pouring the wine, Lanie found she couldn’t wait any longer.

  ‘I slept with Grayson Manning,’ she said.

  Teagan dropped the box of chocolates on the floor.

  * * *

  Most of the bottle of wine later, Lanie lay stretched out on her mother’s overstuffed sofa, swirling the last of the wine in her glass. Across from her Teagan was sprawled in an armchair, her long legs overhanging the arm and swinging rhythmically to the sounds of late-night radio and the hits of a decade ago.

  ‘You know,’ Teagan said, ‘I think this is a good thing.’