Australia: In Bed with the Boss: The Marriage Decider / Their Wedding Day / His Boardroom Mistress

They turned off into the street beside the park and found the address with no trouble at all. The block of apartments was on the next corner, a fairly old block in red brick and only four storeys high with garages underneath. Amy guessed Apartment 8 would be on the top floor, and found herself hoping it was on the corner with the balcony running around two sides, both east and north.

“There’s Ted waiting for us,” Jake pointed out, waving to the man standing by the entrance to the block.

As they cruised past in search of a parking place, Amy caught only a glimpse of the agent, a broad, bulky figure, smartly attired in a blue business shirt, striped tie, and dark trousers. Jake slotted the car into the kerb only twenty metres away. Amy checked her watch as they alighted. Twelve-thirty. They were on time. Ted Durkin had arrived early. No fault of theirs, but both she and Jake automatically covered the distance at a fast pace.

Amy was conscious of being scrutinised as they approached. It wasn’t a sexual once-over, more a matching up to specifications. The agent looked to be in his late forties, his iron-grey hair thinning on top, making his slight frown very visible. It only cleared when Jake thrust out his hand to him, drawing attention away from her.

“Good of you to give us this opportunity, Ted,” he enthused genially.

“Not at all. You’ve put business my way in the past, Jake. Appreciate it.”

“This is my P.A., Amy Taylor.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Durkin,” Amy chimed in, offering her hand.

He took it and gave her a rueful little smile. “To tell you the truth, Miss Taylor, I wasn’t expecting someone quite so young.”

Single career woman— had he been envisaging a spinsterish woman in her late thirties or forties, someone entrenched in her career with little else in her life?

One thing was suddenly clear. This had to be a bona fide deal or Ted Durkin wouldn’t be raising questions.

Without pausing to examine her eagerness to dismiss objections to her possible tenancy, Amy rushed to reassure him.

“I’m twenty-eight, Mr. Durkin, and I’ve held a job since I was sixteen. That’s twelve years of solid employment, working my way up to my current position.”

“Very responsible,” Jake slipped in emphatically.

Ted Durkin shot him a chiding look. “You didn’t mention how very attractive your P.A. is, Jake.” Another apologetic look at her. “No offence to you, Miss Taylor, but the owner of the apartment was very specific about…”

“No wild parties,” she finished for him. “That’s not my style, Mr. Durkin.”

“Amy’s been with me for two years, Ted,” Jake said. “I really can vouch for her character. An ultraclean living person.”

“Uh-huh.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “No boyfriend? I don’t mean to get personal. It’s a matter of satisfying the owner. Did Jake explain…?”

“Yes, he did.”

Regardless if she was prepared to take the apartment or not, Amy bridled against the sense of being rejected, especially after the painful blow from Steve. She found herself pouring out a persuasive argument, uncaring that it was personal business. Jake knew it anyway and she felt compelled to convince Ted Durkin she was an appropriate tenant.

“Actually I’m looking for time to myself, Mr. Durkin. I’ve been in a rather long-term relationship which has just broken up.” She grimaced, appealing to his sympathy. “No chance of a reconciliation, so I really am on my own and I don’t intend rushing into socialising. Six months here would do me very nicely, right away from where I’ve been.”

“Ah!” It was the sound of satisfaction. “Well, I’ll take you up and show you around. It’s not quite ready for occupation. Painters are in at the moment.”

Won a stay of judgement, Amy thought, ridiculously pleased. She glanced at Jake as they entered the building, wanting to share the achievement with him since he’d helped. He wasn’t looking at her but she caught a smug little smile on his face and then wanted to kick herself.

She’d ended up playing his game, showing positive enthusiasm for his plan to move her out of Bondi and to Balmoral.

I was only saving his face in front of Ted Durkin, Amy quickly excused herself. She could still say no to the apartment. There was no commitment until she signed the lease for it. In fact, if she decided to move—in her own good time—it was much more practical to find a place that didn’t have a time limit on it.

Jake Carter hadn’t won this round yet!

CHAPTER SEVEN

THEY rode a small elevator up to the top floor. It opened onto a broad hallway, lit by the multicoloured panes of glass which ran down the opposite wall, making an attractive feature for the stairwell next to it. Ted Durkin ushered them to an opened door on the left hand side. Amy’s heart gave an excited skip.

It was the apartment with the east-north balconies.

They walked into a wonderfully light, airy, open-plan living area and for Amy it was love at first sight. To live here—if only for six months—it was irresistible—an incredible bargain!

The floor was covered with marvellous tiles, the pearlescent colour of sea-shells crushed into a wavy pattern that instantly suggested a seabed of gently undulating sand. The wall facing the bay was almost all glass, offering a panoramic view and a wealth of sunshine. Other walls were painted a pale cream. The kitchen was shiny new, all blonde wood and stainless steel, fitted with a dishwasher and a microwave oven, as well as a traditional one.

In the living room, two men in paint-spotted overalls sat on foldaway chairs, eating their lunch. A spread-sheet was laid out on the floor underneath them. Tins of paint stood on it in a tidy group.

“How’s it going?” Ted asked them.

“One more coat on the skirting boards and architraves and we’re finished,” the older one answered.

These were being painted a pearly grey, picking up on some of the grains in the tiles and making a stylish contrast to the cream.

“Still wet?”

“Should be touch-dry by now. It’s safe to move around.”

“Fine.” Ted turned to Amy. “The old carpet’s been ripped out of the bedrooms for the carpenter to fit the cupboards properly. The new one won’t be laid until later this week,” he warned.

“There’s more than one bedroom?” Amy asked, stunned by the spaciousness of the apartment.

“Two.”

Jake wandered over to chat to the painters as the agent steered Amy towards an archway in the back wall of the living room. Apparently he didn’t intend to participate in her decision, which made a mess of her line of logic.

She made a determined effort to shake off her preoccupation with his influence, realising she must have misread the situation, possibly blowing it completely out of proportion. When all was said and done, he had only followed through on what he had advised her. Having her right where he wanted her could simply mean keeping her happy as his assistant.

Through the archway was a short hall with doors at both ends of it and two more doors facing the wall with the arch. The latter pair were opened first. “Laundry and bathroom,” Ted pointed out.

The laundry held a linen and broom cupboard, washer, dryer and tub. All new. Amy was delighted to see the washer and dryer since Steve had taken those in the division of their property, leaving her with the refrigerator and the TV. She’d envisaged visits to a laundrette, an inconvenience she wouldn’t have to put up with here.

The bathroom was positively luxurious. It had obviously been renovated, the same tiles in the living area being carried through to it and the same blonde wood in the kitchen being used on the vanity bench. Incredibly, it featured a Jacuzzi bath as well as a shower and everything else one could need.

“These old places were built to be roomy. Couldn’t put a bath like that in most modern apartments,” Ted remarked, probably noting her stunned expression. “You don’t often see such high ceilings, either. All the rooms here have bigger dimensions than usual.”

And there’d been an enormous amount of money poured into making the most of them, Amy thought. No expense spared. Little wonder that the owner didn’t want it damaged by careless tenants.

The second bedroom was larger than average. The main bedroom was larger still, with glass doors that led out onto the north-facing balcony. “What colour is the new carpet?” Amy asked.

Ted shrugged. “Don’t know. The owner picked it. I could tell you on Friday.”

Amy shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve never been in such a lovely apartment. Believe me, Mr. Durkin, it would be an absolute pleasure to keep this in mint condition. Do you think the owner will accept me as a tenant?” she pressed eagerly.

His face relaxed into an indulgent smile. His eyes twinkled at her in approval. “Why not? I can sell anything if I believe in it and I’m inclined to believe you, Miss Taylor.”

“I promise your faith won’t be mislaid.”

“Well, I do have Jake’s word for that, as well, so we’ll call it a done deal.”

“Thanks a million, Mr. Durkin.” She grabbed his hand and shook it vigorously, feeling as though she’d won a lottery.

His smile turned slightly ironic. “Guess you should thank Jake, Miss Taylor. He did the running.”

“Yes, of course. I will.”

Jake! He would probably be insufferably smug about it, but right at this moment Amy didn’t care. He’d done her a great favour. A fabulous favour! She floated back out to the living room on a cloud of happy pleasure. The apartment was hers. Six months of blissful living in this beautiful place! It was better than a vacation! New surroundings, new people, new everything!

Jake turned from chatting to the painters and raised his eyebrows at her.

She couldn’t help it. She grinned at him like a cheshire cat.

He grinned back.

Understanding zinged between them.

It was like a touch of magic, a fountain of stars showering her, lifting her into a new life. She barely stopped herself from pirouetting across the tiled floor and hugging Jake Carter.

“A done deal?” he asked.

“A done deal,” she affirmed exultantly.

“Then let’s go to lunch and celebrate,” he said.

“Yes,” she agreed, too happy to worry about caution. Besides, he was part of this. Without Jake she wouldn’t have got this apartment. It was only right to share her pleasure with him.

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE restaurant Jake drove her to was on the beach side of The Esplanade, just along from the old Bathers’ Pavilion, which he pointed out in passing, informing her it was a historic landmark at Balmoral. Amy smiled over the name. It conjured up men in long shorts and singlets, and women in bathing costumes with skirts and bloomers.

The past, however, was wiped out of her mind as Jake led her into an ultra-modern dining room that shouted class with a capital C. “Table for Carter,” he murmured to the woman who greeted them, while Amy was still taking in the huge floral arrangement in the foyer—a splendid array of Australian flora in an urn. The waratahs alone would have cost a small fortune.

Her heels clacked on polished floorboards as Jake steered her into following the woman. Well-dressed patrons sat in comfortable chairs at tables dressed in starched white linen and gleaming tableware. They bypassed a bar that curved around from the foyer and headed towards a wall of glass which seemed to rise from the water beyond it.

This was an illusion, as Amy realised when she was seated right next to the window. There was a strip of beach below them, but they were so close to the waterline, the sense of being right on top of it stayed. Outside, a long wharf was lapped by waves and pelicans were using it as a resting place. Inside, she was handed a menu and asked what she’d like to drink.

“Two glasses of champagne,” Jake answered, and gave Amy a smile that fizzed into her blood.

“And a jug of iced water, please,” she quickly added, telling herself she needed to keep a cool head here.

She’d been in classy restaurants many times with Jake and a party of his clients, but never before alone with him. The setting engendered a sense of intimacy, as well as a sense of special occasion. A glance at the prices on the menu left Amy in no doubt she was being treated to top class, and the dishes described promised gourmet standard from the chef. She wasn’t sure it felt right to be sharing this much with her boss.

“Did you book a table before we left the office?” she asked.

He looked up from his menu, his golden eyes glowing warm contentment. “Yes, I did. Great forethought, wasn’t it?” he said with sublime confidence in her agreement.

“There might not have been anything to celebrate,” she pointed out.

“Then it would have been a fine consolation for disappointment. Besides, it’s lunchtime. On the principle we have to eat, why not eat well? Superb food here. Have you chosen yet?”

“No. It all looks marvellous.”

“Good! I figured you needed your appetite tempted. Can’t have you pining away on me.”

Relieved of any cause for battle, Amy returned her attention to the menu, satisfied she understood Jake’s motives. This lunch was part of his program to push her into forgetting her grief and promote the attitude that life was still worth living. Put her in a new environment, lift her spirits with champagne, stuff her up with delicious comfort food, and Amy Taylor would be as good as gold again.

She smiled to herself as she made her choice, deciding on her favourite seafoods. Making the most of Jake’s fix-it ideas was definitely the order of the day. He probably didn’t have a clue about broken hearts. He never stayed in a relationship long enough to find out. Nevertheless, Amy had to admit he was positively helping her over a big emotional hump.

After this sinfully decadent lunch, they’d be dropping in at Ted Durkin’s office to sign the lease on the apartment. She could take up occupation next Saturday. What had loomed as a long, miserable, empty week ahead of her would now be filled with the business of organising the move and coloured with the anticipation of all it would mean to her. To some extent, Jake was right with his practical solutions. Life didn’t stay black when good things happened.

Their champagne arrived and their orders were taken. Jake lifted his glass, his eyes twinkling at her over it. “To the future,” he toasted.

Amy happily echoed it. “The future. And thanks for everything, Jake. I really appreciate your kind consideration.”

“What would I do without your smile? It makes my day.”

She laughed at his teasing, then sat back in her chair, relaxing, allowing herself the luxury of viewing him with warmth. “I like working with you,” she admitted. “It’s never boring.”

“Amy, you’re the best assistant I’ve ever had. In fact, you’re the perfect complement to me.”

He was talking about work, nothing but work, she insisted to herself, yet there was something in his voice that furred the edges of sharp thinking and her heart denied any breakage by hop, skip, and jumping all over the place.

“Jake, darling!”

The jarring intrusion snapped Amy’s attention to the woman who had suddenly materialised beside Jake. A blonde! A very voluptuous blonde! Who proceeded to stroke her absurdly long and highly varnished fingernails down Jake’s sleeve in a very provocative, possessive manner.

It was like a knife twisting in a fresh wound. Amy could see Steve’s blonde getting her claws into him, never mind that he belonged to another woman. A marauding blonde, uncaring of anything but her own desires. This one was insinuating herself between Amy and Jake, splitting up their private celebration party, stealing the lovely comfortable mood, demanding to be the focus of attention.

“What a surprise, seeing you here today!” she cooed to Jake, not asking any pardon for intruding.

Amy hated her. She wanted to tear that hand off Jake’s sleeve and shove it into the woman’s mouth, shutting off the slavering drool of words.

“An unexpected pleasure, Isabella,” Jake returned smoothly, starting to rise from his chair, dislodging her hand.

Isabella! Of course, she’d have a name like that, Amy seethed. Something sexy and exotic.

“No, please stay seated.” It was another excuse to touch him, to curl her talons around his shoulder. The blonde bared perfect teeth at Amy. Piranha teeth. “I don’t think I’ve met your companion.”

“Amy Taylor…Isabella Maddison,” Jake obliged.

“Hi!” the blonde said, the briefest possible acknowledgement.

Amy met her feline green eyes with a chilly blue blast and nodded her acknowledgement, not prepared to play the all jolly friends game. She didn’t want to know Isabella Maddison, didn’t care to greet an uninvited intruder, and would not pretend to welcome a predatory blonde into her company.

Her and her “Jake, darling!” How rude could you get? It was perfectly obvious the blonde was putting in her claim in front of a possible rival and didn’t care what it took to win. Never mind dimming Amy’s pleasure, taking the shine off the day, pushing herself forward to block Amy out.

“Great party on Saturday night, Jake,” Isabella enthused, giving it a sexy innuendo.

“Yes. A lot of fun,” he replied.

Fun! The urge to have a bit of fun herself blew through Amy’s mind. “What a pity I couldn’t be there!” she said ruefully. “Jake and I have the best fun together, don’t we, darling?”

His head jerked to her, eyes startled. He recovered fast, his mouth curving into his whimsical smile. “Ain’t that the truth?” he drawled.

‘Jake always says we complement each other perfectly,” Amy crowed, buoyed so much by his support, she batted her eyelashes at the blonde bombshell.

“Then you should have been there, shouldn’t you?” came the snaky return comment, accompanied by a suggestively raised eyebrow.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Amy shrugged and swirled the champagne around in her glass as she gave Jake a smouldering look. “Some men like a bit of rope. I don’t mind as long as I can reel him in whenever I want to.”

“Amy is very understanding,” Jake said, nodding his appreciation.

“Well, perhaps another time, Jake,” Isabella purred, undeterred from a future romp.

“Oh, I doubt it.” Amy poured syrup into her voice. “He rarely dips into the same well twice.” She bared her teeth. “Take a friendly word of advice. Best to move on to greener pastures. He is sort of stuck with me for the long haul.”

Isabella started to retreat. “If you’ll excuse me…”

“With pleasure,” Amy said to speed her on her way, then downed half the champagne to celebrate her going.

Jake’s eyes were dancing with unholy amusement. “My wildest fantasy come true…you fighting another woman for me.”

“Huh!” Amy scoffed. “That’ll be the day.”

“Am I not to believe my ears?”

“She had the wrong coloured hair.”

“Ah!” His wicked delight took on a wry twist. “The other woman.”

“Sorry if I’ve queered your pitch with her.” She wasn’t sorry at all, but it seemed an appropriate thing to say. After all, when all was said and done, he was still her boss. Though he could have stopped her roll if anything important was at stake. She would have taken her cue from him.

“No problem,” he said carelessly.

“No, I don’t suppose it is.” Cynicism streaked through her. “If you snapped your fingers she’d come again.”

“Isabella has no claim on me.” It was a surprisingly serious statement, and his eyes held hers intently, as though he was assuring her he spoke the truth.

It was meaningless to Amy. No woman ever seemed to have a claim on him. “Is she your latest interest?” For some reason, she really wanted to know.

“No,” he answered without hesitation.

“Just one of the hopeful crowd that trails after you,” Amy said dryly.

He shrugged. “It hardly matters if I’m not interested, does it? To be blunt, Isabella doesn’t appeal to me. She never will appeal to me. Any hope she might be nursing is therefore futile.”

Goodbye, Isabella.

Amy was pleased that Jake had more taste than Steve. For both the men in her life to fall into the clutches of predatory blondes would have been altogether too wretched to bear. Not that Jake was an intimate part of her life, but he was a big chunk and she wanted to respect his judgement of character.

His quirky little smile came back. “You are quite a formidable fighter, Amy.”

She shrugged. “You did encourage me, taking my side. If you’d clamped down on me…”

“And miss that performance?” His eyes sparkled admiration.

“The fact remains…” It felt really good that he’d supported her. “…You let me win, Jake.”

He lifted his glass of champagne in another toast. “We’re a team, Amy. A great team.”

“A team,” she echoed happily, and drank to the splendid sense of well-being flowing from being a solid team with Jake.

Their first course arrived.

Amy ate with gusto. Not only was the food fantastic, her tastebuds were fully revived from the weekend when everything she’d tried to eat seemed to have the texture of cardboard, indigestible. Maybe having a healthy appetite was a side effect from feeling victorious. Defeat was certainly the pits.

“More champagne?” Jake asked, seeing her down the last drops in her glass.

“No, thanks. I’d better move on to iced water. I think I’ve been hot-headed enough today.”

He grinned. “Some things need letting out of your system. Especially the deep down and poisonous stuff.”

“Well, I’m almost squeaky clean again.”

“What a shame! So much volatile passion flying around. It’s been quite an exciting experience watching it in action. Intriguing, too. Shows me a side of you you’ve kept under wraps. Not that I didn’t suspect it was there.”

Amy sat very still because her heart was fluttering extremely fast. Jake was regarding her with simmering speculation. The cat was out of the bag, well and truly, and she’d let it out with her wild flights off the rails. If she wasn’t careful, the cat would feel free to pounce!

Twice she’d zoomed out of control, losing any semblance of the cool she’d kept with Jake. She could make excuses for herself. Jake was obligingly accepting them. But that didn’t put things back the way they were between them.

“Anything else you’d like to spit out? Get off your chest?” he invited, clearly relishing exploring this newly revealed side of her.

Amy needed a safe topic fast, preferably focused on him instead of her.

“Yes. Since I’ve now been introduced to your sister, would you mind telling me about your family?” Her curiosity had been piqued by Ruth’s revelations this morning.

“Not at all. What do you want to know?”

“Is there only you and Ruth?”

“Ruth is the youngest. I’m the next youngest. Above us are two older brothers, both very respectably settled down with families. Mum does her best to rule over us all and Dad lets us be.”

“Do they all live in Sydney?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re the wild one.”

He laughed. “They called me the adventurer when I was a kid.”

He still was, Amy thought. “Tell me why,” she prompted, eager to know more about him, to understand where he came from.

Again he obliged her, putting her at ease by regaling her with amusing stories from his childhood. Freed from the disturbing sexual pull he could exert on her, Amy enjoyed listening.

It was easy to imagine a little Jake trotting off on his own to explore the exciting things the world had to offer, worrying his mother, trying the patience of his older brothers who were sent to find him after they’d neglected to mind him properly. Ruth had become his partner in voyages of wonder when she was old enough, happy to be led anywhere by Jake.

The first course was cleared from their table. The main course was served and consumed. They were both persuaded to order the divine-sounding apple and brandy souffle´ served with a lemon and kiwi fruit compote to finish off the meal.