At The Boss's Command. Darcy Maguire

shouldn’t let anything distract you from what really matters.’

      ‘Yes, Mum. I know.’

      ‘You know the risks involved in relationships, how messy they can be…’ Her mother sighed heavily. ‘You know how important it is to get your life right first.’

      ‘Yes, Mum. I’m getting that promotion first, Mum.’

      ‘That’s a good girl. I’m so happy that you’re learning from my mistakes and you don’t have to go through what I—’

      Tahlia cringed. ‘Yes. I’m so lucky to have you.’ There were some lessons she could do without, even if it meant settling for someone safe rather than someone who was trouble. ‘And don’t worry, I will get that promotion.’

      ‘Of course you will.’

      She shifted in her seat. Some time, after she figured out where Darrington came from and what he was up to. ‘Look, I have to go. My dinner’s getting cold and I have a ton of work in front of me.’

      ‘That’s the girl,’ her mother gushed. ‘You make it so they can’t do anything but give you the promotion. You just have to do more. Bye now.’

      Tahlia rang off, a cold ache in her chest. She had thought she’d done everything, but obviously it wasn’t enough. Yet.

      One thing was for sure; Raquel couldn’t help but notice soon that Darrington wasn’t getting the job done—he was spending far too much energy on the staff and neglecting the rest of his work.

      All she needed to do was wait…

      She gave her neat apartment a slow assessment. She had only one bedroom to minimise rental costs and maximise her saving capability, a small kitchen to make her own food rather than rely on take-aways, a large fridge full of water, fruit and vegetables and frozen meals for one.

      It was all about moderation. Why hadn’t her father seen it? Moderation and control was the key to life. If he’d mastered it he wouldn’t have needed to have lied to her mother about the poor state of business, their financial difficulty and his state of mind.

      He wouldn’t have needed time to himself so much, wouldn’t have drunk so much and wouldn’t have been on the balcony that night… wouldn’t have leant so heavily on that loose rail.

      Sirens still made her body chill and every part of her freeze and listen, for the sound of her mother talking with her father at the table as though he was there, safe, as though they were there, together, as though life was all okay again and her father hadn’t fallen to his death leaving all those problems they said he couldn’t face for her mother.

      The doorbell rang.

      She put down her bowl and strode to the door. At last. Her friends. She couldn’t have done with her own company a moment longer, especially when her mind was filled with images of Case and his wide shoulders, slim hips, cute tight butt and those incredible sapphire-blue eyes.

      She swung the door wide.

      Roses. Plump crimson blooms filled the doorway, with soft sprays of baby’s breath at the edges and deep green leaves intermingled amongst the rich vivid flowers in front of her.

      She froze, her breath stuck in her throat. Was Case on the other side of the veritable garden? Were his eyes going to be sparkling with promises his lips couldn’t wait to fulfil, his blood rushing as fiery hot as the colour of the roses, just waiting to sweep her to him…?

      The flowers moved aside. ‘For Miss Moran,’ said the delivery man, thrusting a clipboard under her nose for her to sign, his face beaming as though he was giving them to her himself.

      The chill of reality cooled her body.

      Idiot. As if he’d come over. Sure, the guy looked at her and was nice but it didn’t mean anything except that it had been far too long since she’d been on a date.

      He was her boss! As if the guy was going to send her flowers—but if not him, then who?

      She signed and gave the man his pen and board back. Why had she neglected her personal life so badly? If she hadn’t she wouldn’t be so at a loss every time she was in the vicinity of Case.

      If she was a dating veteran she probably wouldn’t even register Case and his attributes, she’d be used to men and attention and wouldn’t be tortured thinking about a man so obviously unsuitable for her.

      Tahlia took the roses and held them close to her chest, breathing in their sweet scent. Nice. She hadn’t had roses since…too long.

      It was a lovely thought. Her mother? No way. Emma and Keely, maybe…

      She closed the front door, flipping open the card tucked amongst the stems. ‘Thinking of you.’

      Case, or a secret admirer? ‘Yeah, right.’ It had to be him. Logic suggested there were no other viable options for the sender. He liked her.

      She closed her eyes and let the realisation wash over her. Did he want to get to know her better?

      The thought wasn’t entirely unattractive, especially the part where she and Case would be in each other’s arms, tasting each other’s lips, their bodies pressed together, exploring the amazing chemistry that was making her act insane.

      Was life about compromise?

      She glanced at Bert and Ernie. She could put a glass lid on top of their fish bowl and get that pussycat that her mother had never let her have.

      No.

      She held the bunch of flowers away from her, shaking her head. She was not going to waste valuable time with stupid fantasies about the boss.

      She was not going to entertain thoughts like that about the man who stole her job, flowers or not.

      She was not giving up. She was a professional and that was her promotion, no matter what he made her feel.

      The doorbell rang again.

      She flung open the door, steeling herself. If Case Darrington thought that a bunch of flowers was going to romance her into his way of thinking…

      Emma and Keely filled the doorway. ‘We’re here.’

      They bustled in, arms full of bags, the pizza wafting cheesy garlic aromas around the room.

      ‘Who’s your admirer?’ Keely asked.

      Tahlia tossed the flowers on to the hallstand. ‘Work…from work. Condolences on my promotionless week.’

      Emma picked up the flowers, cradling them in her arms. ‘We should have thought of that. Who did?’ She plucked the card. ‘Who’s thinking of you?’

      ‘Raquel,’ Tahlia blurted.

      ‘Yeah, that you’re not breathing down her neck. Two-faced Rottie that she is.’ Keely drew her into a hug, juggling pizza and packages. ‘She should have given you the job, not that jerk.’

      Emma waved the card. ‘Hang on. How dumb do you think we are? Raquel wouldn’t spend a dime on sending you anything, let alone flowers.’ Emma took the flowers into the kitchen. ‘Fess up.’

      ‘Fine.’ Tahlia slipped the pizza from Keely’s hands, strode into the lounge, dropped into her favourite deep-cushioned chair and opened the box. ‘I’m pretty sure they’re from Case Darrington.’

      Emma whistled, pulling a vase out of the cupboard below the sink and filling it with water. ‘He is rather cute and if I didn’t have my wonderful Harry I would consider pushing him into a cupboard and ripping his clothes off.’

      Tahlia stared at her friend, trying not to let the image infect her, her stomach holding on to the thought and pushing it low.

      ‘And?’ Emma unwrapped the bunch and slid the stalks into the vase. ‘He glanced across the crowded office,’ she said dreamily. ‘Saw you standing there with your freshly