At The Boss's Command

Nothing she couldn’t handle.

Tahlia pushed open one of the conference room doors and slipped inside with Emma behind her, weaving through the throng of people, keeping to the wall side of the large room.

She concentrated on the acceptance speech that she’d been practising for months and not on the expanse of glass and views of Melbourne on the far side.

She looked behind her but couldn’t see Emma.

Her stomach churned with butterflies. This was going to be the highlight of her year and she damned well deserved it. Why Raquel had waited until now was beyond her.

This was it.

She smiled and her mind filled with all the congratulations that everyone would offer, the sweet proof that Raquel acknowledged her skills and her potential, the incredible thrill of telling her mother she’d finally made it another rung up the ladder.

Raquel cleared her throat, dropping a large folder on the table.

The room fell silent.

‘Okay. Thanks for coming, staff,’ she said in her trademark nasal bellow. ‘Of course you all know that the position of Marketing Executive has been open forsome time and is long overdue being filled. I am pleased to announce that a decision has been reached—’

Tahlia held her breath, searching the crowd for her best friends, finding friendly faces with smiles as wide as her own must be.

Emma had been right. This was it—her dream realised, her goal achieved, vindication for endless overtime and a landmark achievement that would ensure that she’d never have to do it hard like her mother.

So what if Emma was getting married and moving to New York to a new job with the love of her life and Keely was taking maternity leave—she would have her promotion.

She swung her attention back towards Raquel.

Sapphire-blue eyes caught hers.

Her heart missed a beat.

It was him.

The cute-suit looked taller, dwarfing the staff around him at the head of the table near Raquel the Rottie, standing out all the more in that tailored black suit, the strong lines of his face resembling more a Greek god than…was he an employee of WWW Designs?

What was he doing here? She hadn’t heard of anyone being taken on lately, especially a tall, dark and devastating thirty-something.

‘Let me introduce to you our new Marketing Executive…’ Raquel paused for effect, shooting Tahlia a tight smile, sweeping her hand past Tahlia to the cute-suit. ‘Case T Darrington.’

Tahlia’s heart slammed against her chest and sank to the pit of her belly where all the butterflies dropped dead, adding to the weight.

Her vision blurred, her throat closing over. It couldn’t be. No. It wasn’t possible. There had to be a mistake.

Not him.

Not anybody.

It should have been her!

Raquel put up open arms, her smile wide, avoiding meeting Tahlia’s gaze. ‘Welcome to the great team here at WWW Designs.’

Tahlia dragged in a slow ragged breath, fighting the sting behind her eyes. How…?

The man behind Raquel sidled out into the open, putting his hands up and rotating slowly like a prizefighter who’d just knocked out the competition. And he had. Effortlessly.

Her.

Chapter Three

All men are created equal.

But what about women? And are we talking sexism here or feminism-gone-crazy? Has Raquel hired this cute-suit because there are just too many women in the company? Or just because she doesn’t want me?

CASE moved to the head of the table, smiling at the new faces around him, taking in the pause after Raquel’s announcement, the hesitant applause, the expressions being cast from face to face.

It was to be expected. They had probably figured the position would be filled in-house by someone they already knew who wouldn’t question or threaten their way of doing things. And he’d just thrown them out of that comfort zone by being thrown into the mix.

A new face. A loose cannon. Someone who they weren’t sure of. If only they knew.

‘Thank you, Raquel,’ he offered the woman who the vision-from-the-lobby had mentioned earlier.

And then there she was, in the audience. He tore his gaze from her, the fact that she worked for him sending warning signals.

‘Hello, everyone,’ he said smoothly, moving up beside Raquel. ‘I’m thrilled to be here and look forward to working with you all. I hope in the coming days to meet you all personally.’

Case glanced towards the beauty again; her face was a mask of professional curiosity. He straightened his tie. Yes. It was time to get serious. He wasn’t here to get distracted by a pretty face. He was here to sort out one-hell-of-a-mess.

The challenge was what he needed, had needed since his marriage breakdown, and he’d excelled at finding them. He’d gone out of his way to be involved in the most complicated business deals, play the most exacting sports and pursue the most beleaguered companies.

Since his marriage, women were the one area where he went for simple. Easy, light liaisons with pretty socialites thrilled to be on his arm.

Case scanned the room. WWW Designs was in a perfect mess too. Enough to keep him in busy excuses for not having time for a personal life. And enough to redeem himself for the tragedy his marriage became.

Hell, the look on his parents’ faces when he had told them it was over had been the worst part of the whole affair. They prided themselves on their thirty-five years of respectable and spotless marriage, had wished him the same fortunate alliance—the only blemish now was their only child’s marital failure.

It was years ago now, but he still hated the feeling of disappointing them.

Case shook his hands out from the balls they’d curled into. He fixed a soft smile to his face and took a breath. ‘I’ve heard great things about the team here at WWW Designs and I’d like to say that I’m very keen on hearing your ideas on making improvements, not only in your department, but to make this company even greater.’

Raquel moved forward. ‘Thank you, Mr Darrington. I’m sure everyone can’t wait to share their thoughts with you,’ she barked, shooting a hard look around the room. ‘And I’m sure you’re eager to get started.’

‘That I am,’ he said, running his eyes over the crowded room, resting on a pair of very fine green eyes.

‘Wonderful. Great. Then let’s get on to housekeeping. Tahlia, where are we at on hooking the contracts for the private schools’ websites? Mr Darrington, this is Tahlia Moran, Director of Sales.’

Tahlia Moran, aka The Beauty, stepped forward, her shoulders thrown back, her chin high, a chilling blankness in her green eyes that pierced his own for a moment.

Case tossed her name around in his head. It suited her…sweet like her voice and her reaction to him, and strong like the way she held herself and that look.

What was with that look?

She swung her focus to Raquel Wilson. ‘We’ve sub-mitted our ideas to the various schools that were looking and are awaiting their respective decisions,’ she said in a cold, lifeless monotone.

His gut tightened.

The woman he’d bumped into downstairs had glowed with such passion that he could imagine clients swarming towards her like bees to spring blossoms.

What was going on in the office to cause such a turnaround in her? Case scanned the room. How many others here were having their enthusiasm sucked out of them? And by what?

He had to find out.

The company’s future success could hinge on him sorting it out—and he knew just where to start. With a tall, dazzling mystery that begged to be explored.

He just wasn’t sure whether he should.

Tahlia stared at her computer screen, willing the words to clear so she could read her mail and get on with the job she still had.

TO: [e-mail]

CC: [e-mail]

FROM: [e-mail]

SUBJECT: A crazy crazy world

Missed you at the end of the meeting. I expect you needed some space. Gawd, Tahlia. I’m so sorry. There must be some reason the Rottie chose that creep over you. Maybe there’s something going on with them—he is rather cute for a creep.

I think the world has gone crazy. First your promotion goes to some total stranger and then Chrystal. I just had the weirdest talk with her about men. No. Not about size. Or quality. Or quantity. She was asking my advice on how to land Mr Right! Freaky, huh? I guess our office nymph has decided, finally, that she wants more than just sex from men.

What do you think Darrington’s T stands for?

Tyrant?

Em

And if you need to talk, or scream or yell or cry, I’m here for you, sweetie.

Tahlia threw herself back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. Yes, the guy was a creep, sauntering into the building, flaunting his good looks, great suit and that sexy mouth and sharing that oh-so-deep voice.

Acting as if he was just anybody when innocent hard-working employees bumped into him was wrong, and totally inappropriate behaviour in the circumstances.

The nerve of the guy to meet her gaze in the meeting, all warm and soft, as though he was naïve and innocent and ignorant to the fact that it was her promotion he’d stolen.

He didn’t need the job. With a suit that expensive it was surprising he was working at all. He probably had a silver spoon stuck well and truly up his—

She slammed a fist on her desk. He probably wasn’t even qualified, had probably figured there was nothing wrong with using his wealth and connections to jump over hard-working employees on his ruthless climb to the top.

She’d hardly heard his acceptance, but had seen him smiling at her, as though his stealing her job wasn’t enough, that he had to rub salt deep into the wounds of her dashed hopes and dreams.

Bastard. After she had been so stupid and babbling and stupid downstairs.

Gawd. He was her boss now. He was probably going to sack her…especially after what she had said about Raquel…unless he had already told Raquel. Then that was it, she was dead—the Rottie would eat her alive!

How could she have messed this up so badly?

How could she have failed?

Everything had been going so well. She’d had everything under control… How could she not have twigged that the Rottie was interviewing other candidates for the promotion she desperately wanted?

Tahlia cringed. How could she have let her mouth run away with her with the one person who should have seen her as absolutely together?

At least she’d reported the update without revealing a shred of the turmoil that raged within her. She was well practised at keeping it all deep inside.

Dammit. Her mother hadn’t let anything get in her way to the top—not her grief, the rumours, motherhood, her limited education, nothing.

She straightened the photo on her desk of her mother in her favourite power suit with her arms crossed and chin up.

It had taken her mother over a year to save up enough for that suit. Tahlia had watched her come home from the supermarket every day, take off her uniform, make dinner and then iron, and study and iron, and go to night school and iron.

Her mother had said her power suit was forged by iron, and was therefore even more charged to give her the boost in business she needed.

Her mother had taught her about goals and strength and determination and, dammit, she wasn’t going to just give in.

She was a professional, like her mother, and she was going to hold her head high and deal with what life threw at her. Hell, she was used to it. Life had thrown a few big ones their way and they’d not only survived, they’d got stronger.

Even the rumours about Tahlia’s dad hadn’t stopped her mother—if anything they had driven her. Her mother’s passion had inspired Tahlia…and Tahlia was not a quitter like her father. She was a winner, a survivor, and totally in control of her own life…and its surprises.

She’d survive this like she had survived everything else in her life to date—she just didn’t know how to tell her mother…

Tahlia picked up a pen and stabbed the notepad in front of her. Damn that man. Damn Raquel. Damn the world.

How could this happen…right when she was going to prove that she’d be okay, that she was somebody too, that she’d made it?

Life wasn’t fair.

Who was that man?

Sammy’s, their local coffee shop, was busy in the afternoons but perfect for the quick after-work drink Tahlia and the girls had before they headed home.

Sammy’s was mandatory to catch up on the weekend goss if they hadn’t got the chance at work. Most days they’d go the entire day and not get to talk, depending on their work commitments, like the rest of today.

Although Tahlia had to admit she hadn’t been so much working as hiding in her office, smothering her thoughts with work rather than trying to make sense of this disastrous turn of events.

She pushed open the coffee shop door, glancing at her watch. She was late. Maybe late enough for the girls to be totally focused on the wedding or the baby shower and to have forgotten entirely about her lack of promotion.

She didn’t want to talk about it. She wanted to forget it had happened, try to recapture that naïve innocence and faith she’d had this morning that it was imminent, not an ‘if’ but a ‘when’ and she was the success she wanted to be.

Tahlia weaved through the tables. She definitely didn’t want to talk about it until she knew what in heavens she was going to do about it.

Keely and Emma were leaning over their usual table, looking up at the same time, as though they’d picked her up on some radar.

‘I’m so sorry, honey,’ Emma said, gathering up the photos of wedding cakes and a couple of dozen letters that were probably more of the RSVPs she’d been checking off her guest list for the last week. ‘About the promotion.’

Tahlia slid into the seat at the booth, gesturing for Andy, their usual waiter. ‘It’s nothing. A slight hiccup. I’ll be fine.’ She wished she could feel as fine as she hoped she sounded.

‘Darrington is one hell of a hiccup.’

Tahlia shook her head, swallowing hard. ‘So your baby shower is next week—’ And then she’d be abandoning work for putting her feet up and focusing on her future, her baby, her husband and her new house.

‘And you’re avoiding the subject. What are you going to do about the new suit in the office?’ Keely asked, tipping her head.

‘Nothing,’ Tahlia said as casually as she could, shrugging. ‘I’m going to ignore him.’

Emma tapped her pile of stuff into symmetry. ‘That may be a bit difficult seeing as he’s your boss.’

‘And he’s cute as,’ Keely added.

‘I’m a professional.’ And there was no way she wanted to see the guy again after their mortifying first meeting, let alone the fact he’d destroyed her dream.

Keely leant forward in her seat, her hand resting on her bulge. ‘So you’re telling us that you haven’t noticed how nice-looking he is?’

She shook her head vigorously. ‘No.’ She wished she’d known who the guy was from the start so she hadn’t allowed her body to buzz around in flights of fancy. ‘I don’t find that sort of clean-cut chiselled features, tailored-suit sort of guy attractive at all.’ Now.

Today was just another good reason to avoid men altogether—they were trouble. They took what you wanted and ruined your life.

Emma drained her cup. ‘So what now?’

‘I get on with my job,’ Tahlia said coolly, raising her eyebrows and giving a soft shrug. What else could she do?

‘If we still have one,’ Keely offered, flicking cookie crumbs from the table in front of her. ‘Rumour has it that the owners are selling up WWW.’

‘That one has been going around for ages,’ Tahlia retorted, fighting the ache in her belly. It couldn’t happen, not to her workplace, her future…

Keely got up, picking up her coat. ‘I’ve got to go…home to Lachlan—gosh, I still can’t believe my luck.’

‘You deserve it,’ Tahlia offered, grabbing her friend’s hand and giving it a quick squeeze. ‘And more.’

Emma shoved her wedding stuff into her large bag. ‘You know you could start looking around for another job?’

Tahlia shook her head. ‘I’ve got too much invested here.’ And she’d rather walk on hot coals than admit failure, especially to her mum. She was going to get that promotion even if she had to wait another year for it.

‘But don’t feel bad that you’re running off to the Big Apple.’ Tahlia slapped the back of her hand to her forehead dramatically. ‘Leaving me all on my own to battle the Darrington disaster.’

Emma laughed. ‘You’ll do just fine.’

Tahlia nodded, forcing a smile to her face. ‘Of course. Always.’ She was always fine. She had been fine when her father had died, fine when her mother had gone to work, fine when she’d come home to an empty house, fine when her mother hadn’t made it to her graduation, her birthdays or their lunch-dates, and she was fine now.

She could handle Darrington all on her own. She’d find out who the man was and what he’d done so that she could explain how he could get her job promotion—to herself and to her mother.

Maybe he just had better luck than her. She bit her bottom lip. Maybe she should get a few charms to be on the safe side, to cover all bases, to ensure her success.

She’d do anything to get where she wanted to go. She was a professional.

Chapter Four

Everything in life has a price.

And I never know what it is until it’s too late.

CASE sat in the large leather chair and surveyed his new office again. He couldn’t quite believe he was here.

He’d spent all yesterday calling in employees, talking to them, encouraging them to tell him just how much they did in the company and how much more they could do, given the right incentives.

Work was going well.

This was going to be good for him. It reminded him of where he’d been six years ago, took him back to simpler times, when he still believed in so many things, including love and marriage.

Framed prints hung on the walls, large ferns sat in the corners looking as if they were in need of a water or a wax—he never could tell if indoor plants were fake or not—the sofa in the corner was cream with tan cushions that matched the rug under the glass and chrome coffee table.

The place could do with a makeover, as one of the employees had suggested, to improve morale. He’d have to look into it. And Miss Tahlia Moran.

Case snatched a pen from the desk, slapping it into his palm. No. There was no mystery to unravel. Nothing to explore except how to get this office dynamic working to its highest potential.

The only responsibility he had was to the company. So what if she’d vanished during the meeting yesterday, somewhere after her report and the general housekeeping.

He stabbed the pen into the file on his desk. He wished she’d left his thoughts as easily. He couldn’t stop wondering about her and that lack of light in her eyes.

He’d half thought of calling her into his office yesterday but had caught himself. There was no rush here—he could take his time to investigate the office politics, the hierarchies and issues at WWW. Besides, he would run into her eventually. They were on the same floor.

But he hadn’t yesterday.

Was she avoiding him? He rubbed his jaw. She could easily be. Women were strange creatures. She could be put out that he hadn’t mentioned his position to her when he’d bumped into her. But dammit, he hadn’t wanted anything to interfere with her first impressions of him. It was so rare for him to have people see him as himself.

For once in his life he just wanted to be Joe Anybody.

Much good it had done him. He was her boss now, and the cool professional look she had cast him across the boardroom yesterday had said it all.

‘Mr Darrington,’ Miss Moran offered, tapping on his door. ‘You wanted to see me?’

She stood tall with high black heels, black trousers that held her curves and a white shirt with the top buttons undone, giving the hint of a lace undershirt.

His blood heated.

Her hair was in the same wild knot as yesterday, her lips were pursed, her green eyes cool and assessing, a finely arched eyebrow quirking as though she was not impressed to be here.

‘Yes.’ Case cracked his knuckles. He’d spent the last twenty-four hours trying to work out why it mattered so much what she thought of him…

He moved around his desk, extending his hand, offering it to her. ‘Case.’

She nodded.

‘And you are Tahlia Moran, Director of Sales,’ he suggested lightly.

She raised her eyes to meet his. ‘Guilty,’ she said, striding forward and taking his hand.

Heat sizzled up his arm. ‘Nice shake, Miss Moran.’

She pulled her hand from his smoothly. ‘Ditto, Mr Darrington.’

‘Call me Case.’

Tahlia stepped back. ‘I have to say…before… downstairs…you caught me off-guard. I’m usually quite…sane.’

‘O-kay,’ he murmured, watching the rise of colour in her cheeks. Was she embarrassed?

His body buzzed at the thought. Did she like him? Had she felt the heat between their palms too? Had she felt that buzz yesterday when they’d collided?

Was that why she was so upset that he was her boss—because she felt the electricity between them but maybe had her own rules for not getting involved with workmates?

Hell, he had the same ideals. But if there could be one person he’d compromise his rules for it would be her, and that incredibly sweet innocence that she’d just bubbled with yesterday morning.

Now he’d never know…anything she said would be sugar-coated for ‘the boss’.

Case straightened his tie. He was giving himself a headache. There was only one way to find out what was going on with Tahlia Moran and put his mind at rest…

He just hoped he liked the answers.

Tahlia glared at the man standing behind her desk in her office with her title as casually and comfortably as though he owned the place. ‘If we could make this quick, Mr Darrington, I have work to do.’

He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Would you like a coffee?’ he asked, reducing the distance between them. ‘I’m just on my way to the kitchenette.’

‘Fine,’ she bit out, stepping well back for the man to pass by. She didn’t want to be anywhere near the guy, let alone touch him again.

She swiped her hand against her thigh, trying to dispel the tingling in her palm.

He stopped beside her. ‘Ladies first,’ he said smoothly, gesturing the way for her.

‘Fine.’ She sauntered down the hall, her breathing short and shallow, her hands clenched tightly at her sides. The promotion-stealer had to remind her of yesterday morning’s embarrassment!

Wasn’t it enough that he’d started throwing his weight around? Meeting everyone under him and convincing them he was interested in their ideas.

Jerk.

So, it was a great idea, not only to meet his staff but to get friendly and supportive…especially since he was a stranger coming in, but if he was thinking it was going to be easy to get on her good side he had another think coming.

Tahlia pushed open the door on the kitchenette and stalked across the room to get as much distance between them as she could. ‘So what can I do for you, Mr Darrington?’

‘Call me Case,’ he said again smoothly, striding to the coffee pot and picking it up with one hand, plucking a mug from the rack with the other. ‘How would you like it?’

She crossed her arms over her chest, resisting a reaction to his casual friendliness, his supposed humility in the face of his superior position, the ease with which he brandished the coffee pot as though it was natural to him to make his own.