Hot Boss, Boardroom Mistress

But, of course, she gave herself a mental slap, there’d be more than one lover.

‘Have you been to Ashburton recently?’ If he was determined to talk, she’d control the topic and from now on it would be safe.

‘Not for nine years, seven months.’

Satisfaction flashed through her like wildfire. So he knew exactly how long it had been. He’d left town the week of her birthday. She hadn’t seen him again since that night.

‘Why not?’ She genuinely wanted to know.

He turned, seeming to study the safety-belt sign in front of them, and when he turned back his eyes were bland. ‘No reason to.’

No person. No family. No love.

She’d longed to give him love. She and the rest of the female population. Angry Jared James, whose mother had left him and whose father had boozed so much he was barely cognisant and certainly not ‘there’ for his son. Alone and isolated and gorgeous.

‘Not even curiosity?’

‘What could there possibly be to be curious about?’ His answer was curt.

‘Quite.’ Determined not to feel wounded at the question, she focused on feeling pleased because his lack of interest meant it more than likely that he wouldn’t know about her grandfather. Not many people did, but in a small town it was hard to keep secrets—especially when he’d been such a public figure. But he deserved dignity and Amanda was working harder than she’d ever worked in her life to try to ensure that he got it. And for some reason it was important to her that Jared not think badly of Grandfather—he could think what he liked about her, but not the old man.

She turned back to her screen. Read the same sentence five times over before getting the gist of it and trying to move on to the next. But it was hopeless. She might as well tinker with colours and formatting.

The pitch was at ten a.m. tomorrow and it was vital they win it. The consultancy had been hit hard by changes in the economic climate and was teetering on the brink of closure. But if they could secure this contract it could be enough to see them through and they could build on it. It seemed to be her luck that when she’d finally landed a well paid job in the big city, it was far from certain. And she needed certainty—her grandfather was counting on her.

But now, with her concentration shot, she knew she was in for a long night of uncomfortable memories mixed with nerves and adrenalin. She might as well pop the migraine pills already. Except she couldn’t possibly be woozy tomorrow.

Rats. Why did Jared James have to be on this flight tonight?

Jared sat back as not so deep inside him irritation duelled with amusement. Eventually amusement got the upper hand. It took a while though and its dominance was precarious. She’d looked so cucumber fresh when she’d appeared—despite the thick wool coat. Only the hint of a flush had touched those pale cheeks when she’d walked on board, blanking the passengers. Not even a small smile of apology or embarrassment sent in their direction. Nothing.

Amanda Winchester. Owned the world and acted like it. She was everything he wasn’t, and all those years ago she’d had everything he hadn’t. Money, leisure and freedom, whereas he’d had nothing, worked 24/7 and been imprisoned by the broken background from hell.

He’d changed though. Moved up in the world. Indeed here he was sitting in her class—he’d earned the right. But a sudden flash of discomfort made him stretch and shift in his seat. Despite being able to pay the fare a zillion times over, seeing her brought that old feeling back: the desperation to control, to escape, to succeed, and to have—not just material things. And with it came the bitterness that he’d felt towards her—back then she’d symbolised all he’d lacked and been everything he’d wanted.

He stared at her, unable to look away. She hadn’t changed. Still spoilt. Still selfish. Oh, sure, now she had the ice-princess thing going on the surface. All polite poise and butter-wouldn’t-melt-ish. But the fact was he knew what she was really like and her behaviour proved it. What Amanda wanted, Amanda got—even if it meant two hundred people got held up because of her.

An over-indulged minx and damn if she didn’t still stir his blood—more so now, incredibly enough. He’d never forgotten the sight of her in that get-up…her pale skin had seemed luminous next to the black silk. Where on earth had she got it from? Mail order?

Nine years, seven months rolled away just like that and he was hit hard in the groin by a need that had never been indulged—and the accompanying frustration because she’d been forbidden. He gritted his teeth at the memory and then forced relaxation as he tried to think—reminding himself it was a long time ago and he was no longer the less-than-nothing youth he’d been back then.

In fact, he mused as he sucked in a breath, it might be all right to want her now. One night with Amanda Winchester wasn’t necessarily taboo—not any more. Not now they were both out of that town and all grown up. That thought doused the discomfort and roused the hunter in him.

So as she oh-so-determinedly ignored him he cast his eyes over her screen. Not caring about how rude he was—in fact he was doing it deliberately, wanting to annoy her into betraying herself again. She was a spoilt, demanding brat all the way. She’d tried testing her new-grown claws on him all those years ago, but he bet she’d be one hell of a vixen now. And yes, if she asked again, his answer would be very different. The wilful, wanting teen would translate into a wild, wanting woman. Hadn’t he just caught a glimpse of it in her eyes? Hadn’t he been unable to resist touching her—just a little, to see if that spark would flare? And it had. How would she burn if he touched her where he really wanted to?

He blinked to refocus his eyes from the internal fantasy that was going to get him very uncomfortable if he didn’t shut it down. Too long since he’d had a lay—that was the problem. As he shifted in his seat again he saw what it was she was working on.

Hell, no way!

He took a moment to regulate his reaction and then asked, ‘So what do you do to earn money to eat, Amanda?’

‘I’m in advertising.’

He smothered another snort. Of course she was. She could sell ice to an Inuit, had that knack of getting people to say yes. But not him. Not unless he controlled the situation.

‘Which agency?’ He figured it’d be one of the top two.

‘Synergy.’

He clamped his jaw to stop it falling open. It was the wild card he’d selected. By far the smallest of the three agencies he’d shortlisted for the pitch, and, from what he’d heard on the grapevine, the one most in need of securing the contract tomorrow.

He was glad he’d found out. Forewarned meant forearmed and now he had the time to plan his strategy. No way could he work with her, but at least he was spared the shock of having her walk into his office tomorrow.

He took a sidelong glance at her coolly remote expression. He was not gentleman enough to give her warning. But then, he’d never pretended to be a gentleman. In fact, he spent the rest of the flight trying to suppress the most ungentlemanly thoughts.

As the plane descended he watched the way she was gripping the arm rest between them and figured it wasn’t worth fighting her for it. ‘Don’t you like flying, Amanda?’

‘Not much.’ Her lips barely moved as she answered.

‘Don’t like being out of control, huh?’ The almost admission of a weakness amused him.

‘I have a strong self-preservation instinct.’

He chuckled. A strong selfish instinct, more like. Not to mention lazy. He would never forget the tone she’d used to order him around on her grandfather’s farm and the way she’d sat at a distance with such indolence and watched him carry out her wishes.

Finally they landed and the second the seat-belt sign was switched off she was standing, bags in hand—arrogantly asserting her priority status without even being conscious of it. Her sense of entitlement was so ingrained. Jared counted to ten as he waited behind her while the stewards opened the doors. Her high heeled boots gave her an extra inch, meaning the top of her head made it to his mouth. He breathed in, caught the gentle scent of her shampoo, and his flare of anger became a flare of something else.

The first thing he’d do would be to free her hair from those clips—see if it was as long and golden as it had been back then. She’d always worn it loose—he’d seen it, like a flag heralding her arrival, and he’d known not to look. She’d been out of bounds but she’d pushed it. She wasn’t out of bounds now.

He shortened his stride to stay alongside her as they walked along the corridors. She pushed buttons on her mobile and so did he. He had five messages. All of them could wait. It seemed she had none—or at least none urgent enough to warrant immediate attention. They got to the ground floor and the signs pointing to the luggage carousels. He, like she, ignored them and headed straight for the exit.

‘Don’t you have baggage to collect? Not your snowboard?’ she asked.

‘I like to travel light.’ Habit from the old days, he figured. When he’d finally got out of Ashburton he’d taken almost nothing with him. Nothing but a bunch of memories—and most of them were bad. It wasn’t that he didn’t have the material possessions now—if anything he’d have to admit he had too many. So he kept his snowboarding gear and a complete wardrobe at his holiday home in Queenstown.

It was an odd relief to see that she was disconcerted by his presence—to know that he affected her too, just as she did him. Not that he’d let her know it.

Oh, yes, despite her polite façade it was as obvious as anything that she wanted him to go. Just to be perverse, he stayed close. She was slowing now as they reached the exit. But there was no one to meet her. No boyfriend waiting at the gate to pull her close and kiss her like crazy.

He shouldn’t care, but he was pleased about that too. No rings on her fingers, no calls on her mobile. They went through the automatic doors together. He expected to see her dive straight into the nearest taxi but instead she paused.

‘Lovely to see you again, Jared.’

Lovely? Oh, sure, like she really thought that. Why couldn’t she be honest about it?

‘It was interesting seeing you too, Amanda,’ he said casually. ‘Who knows? Maybe we’ll see each other again soon.’

She gave a plastic smile, turned and walked. Fast.

He watched her for a moment, appreciating the neat ankles and slim calves as her legs clipped along. He wished he could see more of her. She’d had long, slim legs as a girl—damn the wool coat. He forced his head to turn away, figuring she must have her car parked in the long-stay area.

He headed to the short-stay building and got into his car. It felt good to be back and now he had some fun to look forward to. He was going to enjoy seeing her perform tomorrow. Pulling out of the building, he looped round and caught sight of her—waiting for the bus service? No way. He’d pulled over before it hit that it could be a bad idea—not tonight. Maybe after tomorrow.

But the words popped out regardless. ‘Can I give you a lift somewhere?’ What the hell was she doing at a bus stop anyway?

Her gaze was cool as ever. Those blue eyes lancing through him like beams of dry ice—burning cold. ‘Thank you very much, Jared, but I’m OK.’

He stared hard at her. Under the light from the streetlamp above the shadows under her eyes seemed more pronounced. So did the shadows in them. She looked slim. She looked pale. She looked tired. And suddenly he wondered whether she really was OK.

‘It’s winter and it’s dark.’ Wasn’t that good enough reason to say yes?

She glanced down the street as if praying the bus would suddenly come into view. Her reluctance made his irritation resurge. So it was him that wasn’t good enough.

‘Who am I?’ he growled. ‘The big bad wolf?’

‘Of course.’ Her chin tilted. ‘You know you are, Jared.’

Chapter Three

WOLF or not, Amanda should have taken up Jared’s offer of a ride. She’d seen him slide into the sleek black sedan that had been parked in a priority space and knew it would be the ultimate in comfort on wheels. Not some low-to-the-ground flashy sports car—that would be too small for legs the length of Jared’s. He was a big, strong man and he had the equivalent in a motoring machine. But she’d refused—cutting off her nose to spite her face, as it turned out. The bus had been late and had then broken down on the side of the motorway, delaying her even further. It had been almost midnight before she’d got back to her room and, as she’d predicted, sleep had been elusive, brief and peppered with memories and dreams she wished she could forget.

She jabbed the button to summon the elevator. She wasn’t late. Having woken before sunrise and knowing there was nil possibility of more sleep, she’d got up and ready hours ago. Even now she had no need to race up the stairs, for she was still over an hour early. But she wasn’t the first in the office. Bronwyn was already there, carefully studying the mock-ups.

‘Hey, Bron.’ Her manager was lovely and talented and Amanda wanted to help keep her small company afloat.

There were four of them and Amanda was the most junior, but she’d been the one to come up with the concept that they’d run with for this pitch and Bronwyn had insisted she lead the presentation. Amanda figured her boss was too fair for her own good.

‘Are you sure you want me to be the one to do this?’ she asked.

‘Of course—it’s your idea, your freshness, your conciseness, and you have a fantastic presentation style. I wish I could bottle it and sell it. I’d be a squillionaire overnight.’ Bronwyn looked at her. ‘Are you feeling nervous?’

‘A little.’ More like a lot. There was too much resting on it and they all knew it.

‘I’ll be there. Just give me the look and I can help you out.’

‘I’ll be OK.’ Amanda put her bag down. While it was wonderful to have been given the opportunity to really prove herself, she needed to do more than that. She needed to win. Grandfather was depending on her. She’d put all her hope on the new medication—but it cost the earth.

At nine-thirty she and Bronwyn got into the taxi. Sean and Danielle stood and waved them off as a gesture of solidarity. Amanda checked her reflection in the car window. But in the two minutes that had elapsed since she’d exited the bathroom her tight, precise French plait was still tight and precise. Not a hair out of place, no lipstick on the teeth, no creases in her skirt. She was—outwardly—as ready as she could be.

Fresh was a medium-sized local beverage company that specialised in fresh-made juices and smoothies. Headed by the gregarious iconic Kiwi actor Barry Stuart, it already had high brand recognition and good market share. But now the brief had changed—Barry wanted his face off the product. They wanted a new campaign that would get results, and an ad agency that would drop everything and come running. Demands would be high, but the results would be worth it—generating enough business to keep the company afloat.

It was a fifteen-minute drive to the factory on the edge of the CBD. They waited in the spacious foyer for several minutes. Amanda avoided her nerves by studying the paintings showcased on the bright white walls—a small but solid selection of emerging New Zealand talent. Someone had a good eye.

The funkily clad receptionist took a call in quiet tones and then came over to them.

‘If you’ll follow me.’ She guided them to the lift and pressed the button for the third floor. Once there she led them to a large meeting room with wide windows looking across the city.

‘If you’d like to set up in here. Barry and the CEO will be in shortly.’

Amanda glanced at Bronwyn—she’d thought Barry was the CEO. Bronwyn shrugged and got the mock-ups from the portfolio she was carrying. Amanda pulled her laptop from her bag, scoping for power sockets.

‘Hello!’ The loud tone heralded the unmistakable arrival of Barry. The smile that he pulled from everyone flashed onto Amanda’s face. He had the kind of presence that made everyone relax even when you’d never met him. So familiar—like the friendly uncle who spent his Sundays turning the sausages at the family barbecues. Then she saw who had come into the room behind him and her heart arrested.

Jared? What was he doing here? She looked behind him to see if someone else was coming in. But with a glint in his eye he closed the door.

There was a painful thumping in her chest as her heart remembered to work and made up for the gap by going triple-time.

She’d never known what it was Jared had done after leaving town. It wasn’t as if she could ask Grandfather. She’d have been mad to mention his name to him—not after what had happened. She swallowed back the memories. Not now.

But she suddenly knew he must have done OK because he was standing here with Barry as if he owned the place.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

Maybe he was the financial guy? Please?

She couldn’t help staring. Couldn’t stop either. He looked incredible. The Jared she’d known nine years ago would never have worn a suit. Certainly not one made to measure. For one thing he wouldn’t have had the money, for another he wouldn’t have cared to. But today he looked as if he were born in it—so neatly and naturally it skimmed his broad frame. It was dark, the shirt navy, the tie dark too.

And those eyes—they drew you into their darkness. Like velvety night in the most remote countryside, they held the promise of a million stars once you got to the heart of it.

Bronwyn was talking, introducing herself and Amanda to Barry and Jared. But Amanda was standing still and silent like a French mime artist with stage fright.

Barry was laughing as he made the return introductions. ‘I’m just the front man. Truth is I sold out the controlling share of the company a couple of years ago but my boss likes to keep private. It’s Jared here. You should be talking your talk to him.’

So it was the worst. Jared was the CEO—the person she had to win over today.

As if that would ever happen.

Jared spoke, inclining his head towards Bronwyn but keeping his eyes on Amanda. ‘I’m sorry for the confusion.’ The look in his eyes said he wasn’t sorry at all. The look in his eyes grew in sharp amusement.

‘But it shouldn’t make much difference.’ He kept talking. ‘Fresh is a privately held company and I’d prefer it that you don’t disseminate the management information. At this stage Barry is still very much the face of the company—until you guys do your stuff, of course.’

He smiled suddenly. That killer charm of a smile again. It was all too rare but when it flashed it had any female in the immediate vicinity weak at the knees and needy in the womb.

Amanda, still recovering from her exposure to it last night, felt a double impact.

Last night. Her brain clicked on—whirring while she read the continued amusement in his expression—and the implication became obvious. Her blood beat faster. He was not surprised to see her here. He had an expectant air—he’d known she was going to be at this meeting.

Her anger built as images from the flight flashed—she’d been working on the presentation, or at least trying to, for half the time in the air. He’d been right beside her; he’d have seen her screen easily. In fact, she knew he had. And she’d even told him for whom she worked.

But he had said nothing. Given no clue that they were destined to meet again today. It had to have been deliberate. A red mist of rage swirled before her eyes as she remembered his parting words about maybe meeting each other again ‘soon’. Totally deliberate.

The swine. The arrogant, calculating swine.

‘I want to retire,’ Barry was saying in his jokey manner. ‘He keeps working me too hard.’

Amanda didn’t smile back. Too angry, she turned. This just couldn’t be happening. She needed to win this pitch, Synergy needed the account, and she needed the money for Grandfather. She pressed her lips together, refusing to unleash the venom she ached to vent.

The men got seated on the other side of the table and Bronwyn sat too, leaving Amanda to launch into the presentation.

She switched on the screen. But it stayed blank. She switched it off and then on again. Still blank.

‘Mandy?’ Amanda hoped that the sharp hint of panic in Bronwyn’s voice was audible only to her.

‘One moment please,’ she said. This was so not what they needed right now.

The power cord led right past the chair where Jared now sat. As she bent to check the plug was pushed right into the socket he murmured, ‘Mandy? You’re never a Mandy.’

She straightened and met his eyes for one furious moment. He was laughing—laughing. She knew her face was flushed, could feel it growing all the more so as she absorbed the full extent of this living nightmare. Was this just some trivial joke for him? From the expression in his eyes he wasn’t expecting anything much at any rate. He was out to enjoy himself, not take her seriously.

For a moment hopelessness swept over and almost sank her. Had this blown all chances of them actually winning the contract?

Heck no, she couldn’t allow that to happen. Her fighting spirit kicked in. Their pitch was a good idea, it was her first chance to prove herself and more than anything she needed the money. And now she had quadruple the incentive. She was going to ace this presentation and really show him exactly what she was made of.

She made herself smile at him—as if there were nothing wrong—and then stepped back to her computer. She saw the question in Bron’s eyes and gave her a smile to reassure her—hoping she’d read her strange new skin tone as a sign of nerves, not fury. This time the cords were in right at both ends and light flickered on the screen. All systems go.

She paused, looked at Barry with his broad, unmistakable grin and then she looked at Jared. No grin, but all cynical challenge and underlying amusement. He really didn’t think she could do it. She inhaled, mentally tossed the ball high and hit him with her most powerful serve.

Twenty minutes later Jared had his fingers to his tie, discreetly trying to loosen it, wondering why the hell he’d worn it in the first place. Barry had already ribbed him about the suit—his usual work attire was jeans and a shirt. He’d hardly worn a suit since his banking days. The casual vibe of the company was half the reason he’d bought it and he only wore suits on the days when he needed to assert authority. So what was it about today that he felt the need to assert authority?

It was only Amanda—only the half-naked nuisance of a girl he’d walked away from almost a decade ago. Only the one he hadn’t been allowed—and stupidly the one he’d wanted most.

He hadn’t known what to expect from the pitch. But he certainly hadn’t expected to be impressed. And he was impressed. After a few minutes there he’d even stopped thinking about how delectable she looked and focused on what she was saying. What she was saying made sense.

Damn.

He’d never expected Amanda to turn the tables on him. He’d anticipated a flaky presentation. He’d anticipated a move afterwards. Take her out for a drink. Then somehow get to a place where they could light the fireworks between them and let them explode in a one-night extravaganza. Instead he got her cool ice-princess approach—concise delivery, punchy lines, and, once she’d got going, genuine enthusiasm. So bloody polished, so bloody perfect.

She’d always felt out of his league. And somehow she still did. Somehow just seeing her sent him into a sort of time warp where he was a teen again and fighting his way out of his lot in life. He’d been so at the mercy of those around him—dependent on generosity. He couldn’t afford to make a wrong move—not then. But damn this feeling—he was the one in control of everything now, wasn’t he?