Back In The Boss's Bed

Adam wished to hell that he had the authority to tell her to put a jacket on, but what reason could he give? That he found the sight of her moving breasts too distracting? That her hair was too shiny clean and blonde and her lips positively X-rated? That the silken look of her white and golden skin made it seem a sheer crime to have it covered in anything other than a man’s lips?

Instead he curved his mouth into the sardonic smile which would have made people who knew him well have serious misgivings about his next words.

‘Your grandfather asked me to review your financial position,’ he said bluntly. ‘And I’ve had a preliminary look at the figures.’

There was a simmering silence while she looked at him. ‘And?’

The grey eyes became as steely as his voice. ‘I suspect that it’s worse than even he thought.’ He paused just long enough for her to realise just how serious it was. And then he remembered Vaughn’s kindness, remembered too that this woman was his granddaughter. He forced a smile.

‘I’m afraid that we’re going to have to make a few changes round here.’ The silence became slightly tighter still before he delivered his final blow. ‘Because, without a miracle, I’m afraid your company will go bust, Kiloran.’

CHAPTER THREE

Without a miracle, your company will go bust.

ADAM BLACK fixed her with a cool, challenging look and Kiloran stared at him, trying not to be lulled by the stormy beauty of his eyes.

‘Aren’t you exaggerating just a little?’

He observed the cool, almost haughty look she was giving him and for a moment he almost relished wiping that proud look from her face before plucking a sheaf of papers from his briefcase and flicking a dismissive hand in their direction.

‘Have a chair,’ he drawled, in the kind of tone which suggested that she didn’t have a choice.

‘Thanks,’ she said stonily, thinking that he seemed to have acquired the ability to make her feel like a stranger in her own boardroom.

He sat down in the chair beside hers and his mouth curved. ‘So you think I’m exaggerating, do you? Tell me, have you read these papers?’

‘Of course I’ve read them!’

‘Then surely you can be in no doubt about just how bad things are?’

‘Do you think I’m stupid?’

He gave a cynical smile. ‘Take my advice, honey. Never ask an open question like that. You’re giving me the opportunity to say yes.’

‘Then say it! I’m not afraid of your answer,’ she said proudly.

He sighed with barely concealed impatience even though she looked very beautiful when she tilted her chin like that and the eyes sparked a witchy green fire. This was what happened when you worked with family firms—people behaved as if they owned the place, which, of course, they did. If Kiloran Lacey had been any other employee—no matter what her position in the company—he would have told her to stop wasting his time, to shut up and just listen.

‘If anything, you’ve been guilty of mismanagement,’ he said. ‘Stupidity would imply that you had ignored advice, and I’m assuming you didn’t?’ He raised a dark, arrogant eyebrow. ‘Or did you? Did anyone warn you that your company accountant had been salting away funds for his own private Swiss bank account, Kiloran?’

‘Of course they didn’t!’

‘And you didn’t notice?’

Now he was making her feel stupid. Very stupid. ‘Obviously not.’

‘Indeed.’ Reflectively, he brushed the tip of his finger against his lips and subjected her to an unhurried appraisal. ‘So what happened? Did you take your eye off the ball? Or weren’t you watching the ball in the first place?’

He made her sound like a fool, and she was no fool. Kiloran knew that she had been guilty of a lack of judgement, but she was damned if she was going to have this supercilious man jumping to conclusions when he didn’t know a damned thing about her! And looking at her in that cool, studied way, the thick, dark lashes shielding the grey eyes, making her feel she’d been caught momentarily off balance.

‘You’re full of questions, Mr Black—’

Questions which she seemed very good at evading, he acknowledged thoughtfully. So did that mean she had something to hide? ‘I thought you were going to call me Adam.’

‘If you insist.’

‘Oh, I do,’ he responded. ‘I do.’

His dark face momentarily relaxed into one of lazy mockery. Kiloran swallowed, feeling out of her depth and it was a curious sensation. Men didn’t usually faze her—even exceptionally good-looking men like this one, though she had never met a man quite like Adam Black. The aura of power and success radiated off him, but she was damned if she was going to be cowed by that. ‘Perhaps it’s time you provided me with a few answers yourself,’ she said quietly.

He raised his eyebrows, trying to ignore the way her lips folded into pink petals. So she was trying to pull rank, was she? Hadn’t it sunk in just how precarious her situation was? How people’s livelihoods were at risk? Or was she just thinking of her own, spoilt little self?

He decided to humour her. Maybe if he gave her enough rope she would hang herself. ‘And what exactly do you want to know, Kiloran?’

His voice was a steely honey-trap, but Kiloran let it wash over her. ‘Just why my grandfather has called you in?’

Dark brows were knitted together. ‘I should have thought that was obvious—he wants me to help you get out of the mess—’

‘I’ve created?’

‘Helped to create,’ he amended.

‘Please don’t patronise me—’

‘Patronise you?’ Adam had had enough. ‘Listen, if I were patronising you, you’d soon know about it!’ He leaned forward by a fraction, then wished he hadn’t because she smelt of some evocative scent—something flowery and delicate which shivered over his senses—and he jerked back as if someone had stung him. ‘You know damned well why he’s called me in!’

‘Oh, yes—your reputation for getting things done is legendary.’ She paused. ‘But that doesn’t explain why you’ve condescended to take on such a lowly assignment.’

His eyes glittered—what had he thought about giving her enough rope? ‘Well, well, well—that sounds like a pretty fundamental problem to me,’ he mused. ‘If you consider your own company to be “lowly”.’

‘That’s not what I meant, and you know it!’ He was twisting everything she said! ‘Just that you usually deal with far bigger ventures than this one!’

‘Maybe I wanted a change.’ He looked towards the large French windows, which overlooked the garden, where the view was as pretty as something from a picture, distracting enough, but far less distracting than the whispering movement of her silk as she crossed one bare brown leg over the other. ‘A change of scene. A little country air.’

Kiloran felt the breath catch in her throat and it felt as if someone were tiptoeing over her grave. He was uncannily echoing her own sentiments and suddenly this seemed like trespass in more than one way—now he was coveting her land as well as her company! ‘How much are you being paid?’

Adam recognised the implied insult. So that was how she still saw him, was it—the poor boy from the wrong side of town who was not worthy to sit at the same table as the princess? But his face remained as coolly impassive as before. ‘That’s none of your business!’ he said silkily.

‘Oh, I think it is.’

His smile became bland, and the tone in his voice quietly emphatic. He was damned if he was going to tell her that he wasn’t being paid a penny! Let her think what she liked of him. ‘Sorry.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s a private deal between your grandfather and me. And while I am in charge, it will remain that way.’

While I am in charge. Kiloran stared at him as if he’d suddenly started speaking in a foreign language!

‘You mean—I’m going to be answerable to you?’

‘I’m afraid you are.’ He shrugged as he saw her green eyes widen with genuine shock and for a moment he felt an unwilling tug of empathy. ‘That’s what generally happens in situations like this.’

All the control which had seemed to be slipping away from her ever since she had discovered Eddie Peterhouse’s defection now slid away from her entirely, and most of all she felt a sinking sense of hurt. Why hadn’t her grandfather spoken to her first? Checked whether she would object to having this impassive-faced man waltzing in and taking charge of everything. Including, it seemed—her!

She fixed her expression to one of studied calm. Let him see that a one-off error of judgement did not mean that she couldn’t be as professional as he was. ‘So where do we begin?’ she asked coolly.

There was a pause. ‘Why don’t we start with you telling me something about yourself,’ he said unexpectedly.

Something in the way he said it threatened her equilibrium. It sounded like the kind of question a man asked on a date, when he wanted to get to know you better, and this was certainly no date. ‘Like what?’

He wanted to know what her golden hair would look like when it was freed to tumble down over the luscious swell of her breasts. He wanted to know if she cried out when she came. He wanted…‘Why, your job history, of course,’ he replied evenly.

Some distracting darkening in his eyes made it difficult for her to concentrate. She swallowed. ‘I went into the City, straight from university, stayed in my first job for three years and was working for Edwards, Inc. when Grandfather got ill—and the rest you know. The usual route.’

He said nothing for a moment. Usual for most people, maybe—and especially for privileged little princesses like Kiloran Lacey. Nothing like his own hard, clawing journey up the ladder.

‘I see.’ He leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing as he watched her. ‘Well, you obviously have some experience—’

‘You sound surprised!’ she observed.

He ignored that. ‘And we’re going to need to establish the full extent of the embezzlement. Obviously. And then evolve some kind of strategy to resolve it. Aren’t we, Kiloran?’

Despite her good intentions to remain cool and professional, Kiloran found it hard not to squirm beneath that grey-eyed scrutiny. It didn’t help that he was making her feel incompetent, and neither did it help that he was so overpoweringly attractive.

He was making her aware of herself in a way which was quite alien to her. Since when had her breasts begun to ache and tingle just because some man’s eyes had flickered over them in casual assessment? And why was she suddenly and acutely conscious that, beneath her dress, she had nothing covering her bottom other than a tiny and ridiculously insubstantial thong?

Her pulse beat strong and heavy, like a dull hammer at her wrists and temple. ‘Wh-what do you want to know?’ she asked from between parched lips, wondering if he had this effect on everyone.

‘You can help me by giving me a few salient facts.’

‘Like what?’

‘Tell me about Eddie Peterhouse. How long he worked for Lacey’s—general stuff.’

‘He’d been with the company five years—’

His eyes bored into her. ‘And you joined—when?’

‘Two years ago.’

Adam gave a humourless smile. ‘Which was around about the time the theft started.’

The accusation buzzed unsaid in the air around them. ‘What are you implying?’ she said shakily.

He didn’t answer, not straight away. Let her work out the implication for herself. ‘What did he look like?’

She narrowed her eyes at him in bemusement and gave her head a little shake. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

The movement meant that he could see the tight thrust of her nipples pushing against the thin green silk, and the erotic thoughts which came tumbling into his head made it hard to concentrate. Hard being the operative word, he acknowledged grimly as he felt his body react to her unmistakable beauty. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like this one little bit. He shifted in his chair.

‘The police will want a description—’

‘But you’re not the police,’ she objected.

‘Are you going to answer my question or not, Kiloran?’ he snapped, and the grey eyes glittered like a winter sea. ‘I asked you what he looked like.’

Bizarrely, she felt like throwing something at him and waltzing straight out of the boardroom, as if she were some reactive, emotional child. But she was not a child, and she did not have the luxury of being able to act on her emotions. She took a deep, steadying breath instead.

‘He was tall.’

‘You could be a little more specific than that?’ he drawled. ‘How tall?’

To her absolute horror, she heard herself saying, ‘Not as tall as you.’

He gave a cynical smile. ‘Not many men are,’ he said, matter-of-factly. ‘Again, specifics might be a little bit more helpful.’

She ran her tongue over her lips. ‘Just over six feet, I guess.’ He was still waiting. ‘Fair hair. Blue eyes…’ Her voice tailed off.

‘Go on,’ he urged obscurely. ‘Was he in good shape?’

She only just prevented herself from saying, Not compared to you, but thank God she bit that back in time. Instead, she shrugged, as if she hadn’t given it much thought at all—which in truth she hadn’t. ‘He was okay. He drank a little too much beer, but a lot of men do.’

‘Did you find him attractive, Kiloran?’

She stared at him. ‘What did you say?’

‘You heard. Did you?’

‘No, of course I didn’t! Why on earth should you ask me something as outrageous and insulting as that?’

‘There’s no “of course” about it,’ he stated flatly. ‘And neither is it outrageous or insulting. Human nature is very predictable and it’s a classic scenario, I’m afraid. A man flatters a woman into thinking he’s in love with her. And suddenly she’s putty in his hands. Is that what happened, Kiloran? Did he seduce you? Ply you with pretty words and compliments? Maybe even take you to bed? Were you willing to put everything in his hands without bothering to check it out? Because that’s what sometimes happens when a woman is in thrall of her lover.’

The crude way in which he was talking was having the most disastrous consequences. She could feel her palms growing wet and sticky as he purred out things like ‘take you to his bed’. Was that why her heart was racing, because she was imagining him taking her to bed? She got to her feet and deliberately looked right down her nose at him. ‘I don’t have to listen to another word of this!’

‘Sit down!’

‘No, I won’t sit down!’ She stayed standing, the position of being able to look down on him giving her a brief feeling of superiority. ‘Does my grandfather know the kind of interrogation you’re subjecting me to?’ she demanded coolly. ‘Do you think he would stand for it?’

‘Go ahead—ask him.’ He shrugged.

‘I don’t think you’d like that for a moment, Mr Black. He’d have you out of here so fast you’d—’

‘I don’t think so,’ he interrupted icily. ‘He gave me a free rein and I intend using it.’ But his words conjured up uncomfortably provocative images involving Kiloran on horseback, wearing a tight pair of jodhpurs, and he pushed them away with an almighty effort. ‘I need to know whether you let your emotions cloud your judgement, that’s all, Kiloran.’

She was about to blurt out that she never let emotions cloud her judgement, until she realised that she would be completely contradicting herself. She didn’t blurt. She didn’t react. She was calm and cool—so what the hell was happening to her? Quite the opposite. From the moment he had walked in here she had done nothing but react. To him. And it was time she stopped.

She sat down again, all the fire taken out of her, sucking in a deep breath and hoping it would steady her racing heart. ‘For your information, no—I did not find him attractive.’

‘Charming?’

‘He was not without charm, no,’ she admitted carefully.

‘Good-looking?’

He was being so persistent! Eddie Peterhouse had regular features and had dressed in handmade Italian clothes, cleverly cut to disguise the slight swell of his beer-belly, but compared to Adam Black…‘Not particularly.’

He twisted a slim gold pen between long, slim fingers. ‘So what would you say was the most overriding characteristic he possessed?’

She wanted to be truthful, even though her instincts baulked at having to tell this man anything! ‘He seemed to know what he was doing. He exuded confidence.’

That figured. ‘Con men always do. That’s why people believe their lies and their evasion.’

‘Do you put everyone in a snug little compartment?’

‘Human nature being what it is, I usually find it works.’

How cold he sounded—more like a computer than a man. She wondered what compartment he had put her in, and then decided she would rather not think about it.

She gave him what she hoped was a calm and pleasant smile. ‘Isn’t wondering just why it all happened a bit of a waste of time?’ she queried. ‘What’s done is done—surely what we need to do now is to rectify it?’

At last, he thought. A little common sense instead of the impenetrable maze of feminine logic! ‘Yes.’ The gleam from his grey eyes was one of challenge. ‘Think you’re up to it, Kiloran? It’s going to be a lot of hard work.’

‘I’ve never shirked from hard work.’

Looking at her, he doubted it. She looked as if nothing had troubled her more in her life than what moisturiser to use on that porcelain skin of hers. Or which item of clothing she was going to cover that delectable body with. ‘I’m pleased to hear it. And the sooner we get started the better. I’ll be back first thing on Monday morning.’

He began to collect the papers which lay on the desk in front of him, signalling, thought Kiloran, that the interview was at an end! He had grilled her, while she was left feeling as though she knew precisely nothing about the man who would now effectively be her boss! Just who was Adam Black?

‘You come from round here, don’t you?’ she asked casually.

In the act of putting the papers into his briefcase, Adam paused, his eyes narrowing.

‘That’s right.’ He wondered how much she knew and how much her grandfather had told her. And then asked himself did he really care what a spoilt little rich girl thought about him?

‘Have you still got family living locally?’ Kiloran persisted.

‘Not any more,’ he answered, but there was mockery in his eyes now as he enjoyed her feeling of powerlessness—that the man who would temporarily be calling the shots could just please himself. He gave a quick glance at his watch. ‘I’m afraid I really do have to move.’

Leaving Kiloran feeling like someone with nowhere to go. She watched as he ran his fingers through his thick, dark hair and gave her a swift and not particularly friendly smile.

‘I’ll see you first thing on Monday,’ he said. ‘Goodbye, Kiloran.’

CHAPTER FOUR

WITH icy politeness, Kiloran showed Adam out, watching as his powerful car shot off down the long, winding drive, spraying gravel in its wake. Like a bat out of hell, she thought as the car became a pinprick in the distance, and then she went to look for her grandfather.

She found him in the library, and he looked up from his book as she burst in.

‘Kiloran.’ He smiled, but his eyes were wary.

‘Grandfather, how could you?’

‘How could I what, my dear?’

‘Ask that…that…high-handed megalomaniac for help!’

‘He might be high-handed,’ he conceded, ‘but he’s no megalomaniac. Men like Adam Black don’t have delusions of grandeur—they don’t need to. His success speaks for itself. We’re very lucky to have him.’

Lucky? It didn’t feel lucky—it felt like…Kiloran couldn’t define exactly how it did feel, but all she knew was that he had stirred her up into a state where she would have liked to have smashed something. She remembered his cool, dark good looks. His censorious face as he had taken her to task about her mismanagement!

Can’t you face the simple truth, Kiloran? a voice mocked her. Or is it that you simply can’t bear the fact that you had to hear it from him?

‘Well, if he’s so wonderful—then why is he here? There must be a million other places he could be giving the benefit of his superior knowledge to!’

‘He’s doing me a favour,’ said Vaughn slowly.

‘Why?’

Her grandfather looked at her. ‘That’s the way it goes in business sometimes.’

Something in his voice was warning her off, and for the first time in her life Kiloran felt excluded, as if she were trying to dip her toe into a man’s world, which she had no right to enter. And something in her grandfather’s eyes told her not to bother trying.

‘Relax, Kiloran,’ said the old man gently. ‘We couldn’t be in better hands.’

How that phrase mocked her—and not just mocked her, but filled her with a strange kind of excitement as her mind was dazzled with disturbingly sensual images of being in Adam’s hands. Of his experienced fingers playing sensual havoc all over her. And that was all part of the problem, she realised.

He wasn’t the kind of man you could look upon with any kind of indifference. He dominated the space around him with such intensity that he seemed to leave a great, gaping hole in the atmosphere when he was gone. And how on earth was she going to co-operate with him and give of her best if all she could think about was how infuriatingly gorgeous he was?

Just stop it, she told herself fiercely.

Stop it.

Was that one of the reasons behind his success? That formidable presence? She remembered the way his face had become shuttered when she had asked if he still had family living close by. What really did she know about Adam Black, besides his successful professional reputation?

Nothing, that was what, and her grandfather obviously wasn’t going to tell her anything either.

The party she was going to that night suddenly lost some of its allure. A fact borne out by the evening itself, when a perfectly acceptable man—who might normally have made a pleasant companion for the evening—left her feeling something she hadn’t felt for a long time.

Restless.

Too restless to sleep. As if something had been woken in her that she could not put a name to, something which taunted her from the edge of her dreams, only to disappear when she opened her eyes. She tossed and turned into the small hours, drifting off only to wake up and find that it was still dark. And when she went down to breakfast, it was with an almighty headache.

She pushed the food around her plate like someone convalescing from an illness. She had known that things were bad, but somehow Adam Black’s terse and critical assessment had made them seem a million times worse. Maybe rural living had blunted the edges of her judgement. Maybe her grandfather should never have appointed her in the first place.

Racked with self-doubt, she stared out at the summer garden—at the splashed colour spectrum of the roses and the bright blue spears of delphinium. What else could match a view like that? Certainly nothing that London could offer.

She had come back to live in the country for everything that view represented—a pace of life which was so much more relaxed than the hurly-burly of the city. Here, values seemed more grounded and there was time to do the things she enjoyed. Simple pleasures, far removed from the smoke-filled clatter of City bars. She rode her horse, played tennis and mixed with a set of people with similar tastes and passions.

No, maybe passion was the wrong word. Passion meant strong and uncontrollable emotion and Kiloran could certainly never have been accused of that.

Hers had been an uncertain childhood and her mother’s moods capricious as she had sought happiness in the arms of a series of men until she had finally hit the jackpot and married her millionaire. Kiloran, in contrast, had strived for nothing more ambitious than balance, vowing never to go the way of her mother and look for happiness in someone else. She would find it within herself. She wanted nothing more than safety and security. Of knowing that she could survive on her own.