The Boss's Bedroom Agenda

‘I’m heading that way myself.’

‘Great.’

She fell into step with the woman whose name badge had ‘Dorothy’ typed in bold black print as she surreptitiously checked out Dorothy’s footwear for signs of sparkly red shoes—and was not in the least surprised when she found staid black flats instead.

‘I’m Beth, by the way.’

‘Dorothy. I’m a volunteer.’

‘You don’t get paid to be here?’

Jeez, she could think of any place she’d rather be if she wasn’t doing this for the stability factor. Steady job plus adequate funds equalled a lease on a small gallery to showcase her work and right now she needed that lease. She’d waited long enough to set her dream in motion.

‘I’m an archaeology student. I do this for a bit of extra experience.’ Dorothy’s brown eyes lit up for a moment, brightening her make-up-less face.

‘You must really love what you do.’

Dorothy nodded, her bobbing head setting her bun wobbling precariously atop her head. ‘And the opportunity to work alongside someone of Aidan Voss’s calibre was too good to pass up.’

Beth’s ears pricked up. She’d been so busy trying to find her way around this maze she’d deliberately pushed aside thoughts of her boss.

Guys who looked like Aidan Voss didn’t enter her sphere too often. The proverbial tall, dark and handsome seemed way too trite when describing his devastating looks. If it hadn’t been for the inch-long scar near his right eyebrow, he could’ve modelled rather than dig around old ruins and keep watch for recalcitrant tour guides.

‘So he’s good?’

Beth kept her tone casual despite the sudden urge to learn more about the guy with the sharp cheekbones, strong jaw, slate-grey eyes and hint of a dimple. Not that she’d memorised every detail of that striking face or anything.

Dorothy’s incredulous expression had Beth biting the inside of her cheek to prevent laughing out loud.

‘Good? He’s the best. Not only does he come from one of the most renowned historian families in Australia, he’s been responsible for several major finds around the world. Egypt, South America, Greece, you name it, he’s done it.’

A faint blush stained Dorothy’s pale cheeks and Beth had a feeling the boss’s good looks hadn’t gone completely unnoticed by the enthusiastic volunteer.

‘But surely you know all this? I would’ve thought the lure of working with a man like Mr Voss would be irresistible to anyone interested in this business?’

‘Oh, working with Mr Voss is irresistible all right.’

Beth’s memory worked down from that chiseled face to the way he’d filled out his charcoal suit, how his powder-blue business shirt had stretched taut across his chest and how he’d strutted rather than walked.

In those few minutes he’d hauled her up for being tardy she’d had the impression of a self-assured guy, a guy on top of his game, a guy who could turn a girl’s head without trying.

Not that he was her type. She preferred her men scruffier, less domineering, more casual, and the super-confident Aidan Voss definitely didn’t fit that bill.

Not that she should even consider him as any ‘type’. Lana would keel over and break her other ankle if she thought for one second Beth was sizing up their boss as ‘sexy guy’ material.

‘Well, here we are.’

‘Thanks,’ Beth said, momentarily distracted by thoughts of

Aidan as sexy and pulling up just in time to stop slamming into Dorothy’s ramrod-straight back.

‘I’ll be fine from here,’ she added, eager to get rid of the volunteer so she could start doing some serious exploring and familiarise herself with the room. Though she’d studied up on the museum and done some serious swotting with Lana, she couldn’t afford to make any more gaffs. Her job depended on it and, in turn, her ticket out of here and into her dream gallery.

Dorothy hesitated, toying with her name badge while a small frown creased her brow. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Sure.’ Beth hoped it wasn’t a question about Phar Lap’s location or where the authentic Neighbours set was.

‘Where did you get those amazing shoes?’

She laughed and wriggled her toes, still rueing her broken satin-toed pumps but delighting in her Manolos.

‘I’m hopeless with fashion and I’d kill to have a pair like that.’

Feeling decidedly like Professor Henry Higgins in My Fair Lady about to make over Eliza Doolittle, Beth said, ‘Why don’t we meet for lunch and I’ll let you in on all the best shoe shops in Melbourne?’

‘Great. See you in the cafeteria at one.’

Dorothy’s genuine smile was the first hint of real warmth she’d seen in the rather plain girl and as she watched her walk away in her brown trousers and matching jacket, with a prim cream blouse, severe hairstyle and not a skerrick of style, Beth definitely felt like the professor about to make a grand magnanimous gesture.

It wasn’t till she entered the room, her eyes assaulted by myriad displays that made her dizzy, did she realise she’d made a mistake.

She should be focussing on getting up to scratch in here, not indulging her passion for retail therapy. This job was too important and she’d already made a less than favourable impression with her lateness.

Sighing, she shook her head and headed for the first display. This business of being a good, sensible, dedicated tour guide was going to be a lot harder than she’d thought.

Aidan sat back in his oversized leather chair and stared out of the wide window at the Royal Exhibition Building framed by a cloudless blue sky.

He loved the old building, had loved this view the first moment he’d entered his dad’s office as a cocky archaeological student determined to take on the world. Or, more correctly, travel the world in search of the ancient relics that made his pulse pound with excitement and always had since he’d accompanied his parents on his first dig as an inquisitive five-year-old.

He’d never forgotten the feel of hot sand beneath his hands as he’d dug alongside them with a miniature spade, the heat of an unforgiving Egyptian sun beating down as he’d scrabbled harder and harder until he’d found the small mummy figurine his father had assured him was there.

It wasn’t till years later he’d realised his dad had planted it there for him to find, but by then he’d chosen his path. He’d wanted to be an archaeologist, the best in the business. His dad might have chosen a desk job despite being the top historian in Australia, but he’d wanted more, had craved more.

Rather ironic, considering he now sat in his dad’s vacated chair, the last place he wanted to be.

Grabbing the phone, he punched number one on speed dial, knowing his dad would berate him for interrupting his siesta, remembering times gone by when the indefatigable Abe Voss would’ve been out and about at this time of the morning, prime exploratory time before the scorching outback sun sent even the hardiest explorer scurrying for shade.

‘Abraham Voss speaking.’

Abe’s clipped tones elicited a wry grin. Aidan had never known the old man to answer the phone any other way, especially when he had more important things to do with his time.

‘Hey, Dad, it’s me.’

‘What’s up?’

Aidan stiffened, Abe’s gruff, brisk tone the same abrasive way he’d spoken to him all his life, as if he were an interruption to be tolerated.

No niceties, no normal exchange of pleasantries. But then, what did he expect—for him to change just because he was doing the old man a favour?

Swallowing his annoyance, he swivelled his chair away from the view and picked up Beth Walker’s résumé.

‘I met the new tour guide this morning. She’s not what I expected.’

‘She’s something else, isn’t she? I knew she’d be perfect for the job.’

‘Something else’ was right. The minute he’d laid eyes on Beth Walker he’d known she was perfect—though, inappropriately, work had been the furthest thing from his mind.

Frowning, he tapped her résumé against the desk. ‘Her credentials aren’t super impressive. Tour guide at Flemington during the Spring Racing Carnival and at the Melbourne Grand Prix isn’t exactly the same as here, is it?’

‘Are you questioning my judgement?’

Hell, yeah.

But he wouldn’t push it. The only reason he was sitting in this chair was because his father had asked him to, had made the first overture in his life to acknowledge his skills, and he wasn’t about to sabotage the tentative professional mateship they’d developed lately.

‘Guess her demeanour threw me a little.’

‘Why? Because she’s a tad on the exuberant side?’ Abe snorted, an exasperated sound that told him exactly what he thought of this phone call. ‘Look, Lana Walker will be a huge credit to the museum. She’s the best curator on the eastern seaboard and I trusted her judgement when she recommended her cousin. Then I interviewed Beth and she’s exactly the type of employee we need. Fresh, vibrant, willing to learn. So what’s the problem?’

‘No problem.’

Not unless he counted the awful sinking feeling he was attracted to her when he shouldn’t be.

CEOs shouldn’t fraternise with staff, even ones with sparkling eyes, cheeky smiles, flamboyant suits and come-get- me shoes.

‘If that’s all, I have to go. Your mother has me on this crazy exercise regimen.’

Aidan paused, knowing Abe hated talking about his health, well aware he’d irritated the old man enough for one day with his interrogation about Beth.

‘How’s the heart?’

‘Fine. Blood pressure’s down. No angina since we came up here.’

‘Great—’

‘Must go. I’ll call you next week to check up on how the place is doing.’

The dial tone hummed in his ear before he’d had a chance to say goodbye and Aidan snapped his mobile shut, the familiar disappointment clawing at him.

The old man would never change and he’d be a fool to hope otherwise. Yet when Abe had been advised by the docs to rest up or risk a heart attack and he’d made the decision to head for the tropics of Queensland for a little R & R, he’d turned straight to his son.

Aidan hadn’t been able to refuse, buoyed by the uncharacteristic action of a man who’d barely acknowledged his achievements growing up, a small part of him still hoping for the unthinkable to happen, that dear old Dad would finally recognise his worth.

So here he was, trying to prove a point, aiming to be the best damn CEO the museum had ever seen even if it was only for a few months.

He’d made that more than clear. There was no way he’d give up his passion for the digs.

He’d made that mistake once before.

Never again.

Being the best CEO meant keeping a close eye on employees… Scanning Beth’s résumé again, he shook his head.

His gut instinct had served him well in the past, giving him a feel for the best sites to search, directing him where to dig.

Maybe in this case his instincts were wrong?

However, the more he read of Beth’s résumé and her apparent lack of skills, and compared it with the mental image he had of the feisty tour guide, the more he had the feeling she wasn’t the right person for the job.

But he believed in giving people a fair go so that was exactly what he’d do here. However, if the cutesy tour guide made one too many mistakes… He shoved her résumé back into its folder and stood up.

He wanted this place running up to speed and the only way to ensure that was to do spot checks on his staff.

Starting with one highly unusual tour guide.

CHAPTER THREE

‘SO HOW did it go?’

Beth took a long, drawn-out sip of her mocha-mint iced latte and smacked her lips, trying to hide a grin at Lana’s anxious expression and failing.

‘This isn’t funny, Beth. I’m in agony over here and I’m not just talking about my ankle!’

‘Okay, okay, hang on to your crutches.’

She drained the rest of her favourite drink, placed the takeout cup on the coffee table and stretched. ‘There isn’t much to tell. My first day was uneventful and glitch-free.’

Well, almost, if she didn’t count her run-in with the charismatic Aidan Voss first thing in the morning and the slight mishap with the train display later.

Lana frowned and gave her the same disgusted look she reserved just for her ever since they’d been playmates fighting over the same crayons or dolls.

‘Right. Now tell me the truth. All of it.’

Beth blew her cousin a raspberry.

‘Where do you want me to start? The part where I broke my heel on the way in and got into trouble with the boss? Or the part where I got lost traipsing around that monstrosity? Or the part where I befriended this lovely volunteer in desperate need of a fashion makeover and took her shopping?’

Lana guffawed. ‘So I guess you couldn’t charm or smile your way out of everything, huh?’

‘Hey, it’s only my first day. Give a girl a chance to work her magic.’

Lana rolled her eyes. ‘Now that we’ve established your indefatigable self-confidence hasn’t taken a beating, tell me exactly what happened.’

Beth waved a hand in the air and reached for a melt-in-the-mouth Brunetti’s biscotti with the other. ‘Teething problems, cuz. Everyone has them in a new job.’

‘I know, but I’m bored out of my brain here all day, wondering what’s going on over at the museum.’ She slapped her injured leg and grimaced. ‘I hate being this helpless, this dependent on other people.’

‘You mean me?’

Lana had an independent streak a mile long. Guess it came with the territory of losing her mum early. In a way, her cousin’s tragedy had bonded them as nothing else would. Considering she’d lost her own mum in the same car accident the two of them had clung to each other, a pair of devastated six-year-olds with their worlds turned upside down. And hers had never righted.

‘I know you’re doing your best.’ Lana’s grim expression implied her best wasn’t good enough. ‘It’s just that I don’t think I can last three months sitting around here doing nothing but paperwork.’

‘You don’t exactly have a choice.’

A bit like herself, actually. She owed Lana and if her cousin had asked her to walk on water she would have. Trying her best not to slip up while working at the museum was small payback for everything her cousin had done for her. Not to mention the added bonus of the fact she really needed this job!

Her muse had gone AWOL along with her latest boyfriend, taking her chance of having a display in his gallery along with him. Though she should be grateful: the rat’s actions had prompted her to finally follow her dream and lease her own space. If the powers that be at the stuffy bank ever gave her the loan to secure it, that was.

Renting her warehouse and spending most of her earnings on fashion and shoes didn’t build a great credit rating and, boy, had the bank bigwigs rubbed her nose in it.

‘Good point. So tell me about the boss. What’s Aidan Voss like? I’ve heard on the grapevine he’s a gun.’

Son of a gun, more like it, Beth thought, remembering those slate-grey eyes and their calculating expression as they sized her up.

‘He’s quite impressive.’

An unexpected quiver of excitement skittered down her spine as she contemplated exactly how impressive Aidan Voss was.

‘His credentials, you mean?’

‘I mean the whole package.’

Oops. Beth mentally slapped herself for putting together ‘impressive’ and ‘package’ in her imaginative mind.

A furrow appeared on her cousin’s brow. ‘I don’t like that gleam in your eye.’

‘What gleam?’

She tried her best innocent look and knew it came up lacking when Lana groaned and shook her head.

‘The gleam you get whenever any male under thirty-five and halfway good-looking enters your world.’

Tilting her nose in the air as if she didn’t give a damn, Beth said, ‘I have no idea of his age. From how tense he appears he’s probably ancient.’

‘And the good-looking part?’

Trust Lana not to back down. Damn it, she was like a dog with the proverbial bone. Or in this case, the curator with a dinosaur bone.

‘He’s not bad for an uptight older dude who likes fossicking for boring old artefacts.’

Lana laughed, the sound echoing around her quaint single- storey weatherboard in one of Carlton’s quieter streets.

‘I’m on to you.’ Lana’s laugh grew to belly-shaking proportions. ‘Your version of not bad equates with sex god. So he’s that good?’

Beth nodded, joining in the laughter. ‘Better. Honestly, you should see this guy. Tall, great bod, killer smile, fabulous eyes. A knockout.’

‘Don’t forget the brain behind the package.’

Lana’s not-so-subtle emphasis on the last word had them in fits.

‘You’ll see him soon enough.’

‘If I don’t hack this leg off in frustration over the next few months, that is.’

Her cousin’s laughter petered out so Beth did the only thing possible, the one thing she’d done her whole life to cope when faced with uncomfortable circumstances; made light of the situation.

‘And miss out on seeing Voss the Boss in the flesh? Not likely.’

Lana cringed. ‘You know you just called one of the most influential men in archaeological circles Voss the Boss? Just make sure that little gem stays between us.’

‘You got it.’ She leaned forward, tapped the side of her nose and dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘Now, would you like me to bat my eyelashes at him to get on his good side? You know, to keep the Walker girls in favour with the boss.’

‘Don’t you dare!’

Lana’s eyes widened in horror behind her tortoiseshell glasses and Beth chuckled.

‘Don’t worry, cuz. I have no intention of flirting with the boss.’

However, she had to resist the urge to squirm under her cousin’s speculative glance as she quickly pushed aside the thought she already had.

Beth ignored the wolf-whistle of a passer-by as she strolled down Lygon Street on her way to meet Bobby, her friend— and date for the evening.

Not that catching up for a drink with Bobby was a date exactly. In fact, the thought of seeing the lanky, red-headed drummer as anything other than friend material brought a smile to her face.

So she’d dressed up? No big deal. She’d needed to slip into her favourite black mini and shimmery aubergine top to feel halfway normal again after spending all day in a suit, stylish as it was.

As she passed her favourite gelateria and studiously avoided looking in the window to stop from drooling all over her top, her mobile rang and she scrambled in her bag, hoping Bobby wasn’t standing her up. She was really looking forward to a drink, some light-hearted conversation and the inevitable laughs that spending an evening with a good mate entailed.

It had been way too long since she’d had a good night out; she, the party girl of Melbourne, had spent too many evenings lately holed up in Lana’s place, swotting up on the museum. Bor-ing. Time to live a little, just as she used to.

Staring at the caller ID and not recognising the number, she hit the answer button. ‘Beth Walker.’

‘Hello, Beth. Aidan Voss here.’

She stumbled and would’ve sprawled onto the nearest café table if a kind waiter, with the deepest chocolate-brown eyes she’d ever seen, hadn’t reached out to steady her.

Mouthing ‘thanks’ at the waiter, whose wink had her beaming back at him, she continued walking while furiously trying to think up something fabulously witty to say, anything other than, ‘What do you want?’

‘Sorry to ring you after hours but I need to see you.’

Great, he needed to see her. Some first impression she must’ve made.

Unbidden, the memory of the way he’d looked at her that morning sprung to mind and she wondered if the sizzle of something between them wasn’t just a figment of her imagination.

‘I can come in early first thing tomorrow,’ she said, banishing her ludicrous thoughts and trying to keep her tone businesslike.

‘I need to see you now.’

‘Oh.’

Damn, that one tiny syllable came out on a sigh and she quickly reassembled her wits.

‘Sorry, no can do. I have other plans.’

‘This isn’t a request, it’s an order.’

His silky-smooth voice did little to disguise the thread of steel beneath. Here was a guy used to making people jump, people who probably asked how high.

‘I’m meeting someone,’ she blurted, gnawing at her bottom lip the instant the words left her mouth, realising how stupid it sounded as an excuse. As if high and mighty Aidan Voss would care if she had a date or not.

‘Far be it from me to disrupt your love life, but this is important and it can’t wait till morning.’

‘Bobby’s just an old friend,’ she said, refraining from slapping her head, just, as another corker popped out of her mouth without her thinking.

Damn it, what was it about this guy that rattled her so much? She usually handled guys with finesse, flirting with them while keeping them at arm’s length, using quips and witty repartee rather than blurting the first thing that came into her head.

‘I’m glad.’

He paused and for one insane second she hoped he might be glad she wasn’t on a real date—before realising why the heck would he care? She was just an employee, a lousy one at that if his unimpressed tone and his order to see her immediately was any indication.

‘That means you can take a rain check and Bobby won’t be disappointed. I’ll meet you in the museum foyer in an hour.’

Cupping her hand over the phone, Beth sighed. She was so tempted to tell him where to get off, but the bank needed proof of a reputable job before considering her application for a loan to secure the gallery’s five-year lease, so she had no option but to do what he wanted.

Removing her hand, she said, ‘Fine. I’ll be there. Though the least you can do is tell me what this is all about.’

‘That episode with the train display today? The child’s mother has lodged an incident report and we need to discuss it.’

Incident report? Great, just great. As a first day on the job this one sucked, big time.

Clamping down on the flicker of fear that this pending meeting couldn’t be good for her job security, she mustered her best contrite tone. ‘No problems. See you in an hour.’

‘One other thing.’

‘What is it?’

‘Don’t be late.’

He hung up before she could respond and with a resigned sigh she snapped the phone shut and flung it into her bag.

If it weren’t for Lana and her dream gallery at stake, she would walk away from this less-than-appealing situation and never look back.

She wasn’t a tour guide, she was an artist, and having to follow someone else’s rules didn’t sit well with her. She was used to creative freedom, to being her own boss, not jumping to someone else’s tune.

As she passed a bright, airy shopfront filled with exquisite paintings and sculptures she sucked in a deep breath and squared her shoulders.

She wanted that.

Her very own space filled with her work, with the autonomy to do what she wanted when she wanted. Recognition for her talents, recognition of any sort if she were completely honest with herself, something she’d craved from her dad and never got considering he’d spent the bulk of her childhood traipsing around the countryside.

Casting one last longing glance at the mini-gallery, she tucked her bag tighter and picked up the pace.

She could do this.

She had a job to do and she’d better do it well.

Achieving her dream depended on it.

Aidan paced the empty entrance hall of the museum and wondered what the hell he was doing.

He’d had a very bad day, starting with a pile of boring financial reports and ending in a complaint from an irate mother.