Hired by Mr. Right. Nicola Marsh

butler. ‘I accept. Thanks for the opportunity.’

      He nodded his approval. ‘Good. Now that’s settled, let’s get started. I need to dictate some letters that need to be sent ASAP. While I do that, you can sort through this pile of invoices. In monthly and alphabetical order please, with the most urgent bills to be paid uppermost.’

      She took the pile and seated herself opposite him, thankful for the huge desk. No chance of accidental contact across a great divide of mahogany, though there’d been nothing accidental about the way he’d caressed her cheek earlier that morning. Though she tried to concentrate on the task at hand, she couldn’t resist sneaking a peek as he spoke into a Dictaphone, his low tones soothing her. He’d dressed in the outfit she’d predicted earlier, though it looked a heck of a lot better on the man than on a hanger.

      Visions of their morning interlude drifted into her mind and, before she knew it, she’d mentally undressed him down to the skimpy towel he’d worn as he’d strolled into his bedroom looking a million dollars. How she’d managed to maintain composure, she’d never know. At least those boring drama classes at high school had been good for something. Old Mrs Lincoln would have been proud of her You don’t affect me one bit performance she’d given Dylan that morning.

      At that moment, the man in question hit the ‘stop’ button and looked up.

      ‘Having trouble keeping up?’ He pointedly stared at the pile of invoices in front of her and raised an eyebrow.

      Fighting a losing battle with a rising heat that flooded her cheeks, she shook her head. ‘Sorry. I was just thinking.’ Lame, even by her standards, but what could she do when the object of her lustful fantasy was glaring at her with those dark eyes that screamed, Come and get me?

      ‘About what? Some old boyfriend you’ve left behind in Sydney?’

      ‘I’m not from Sydney.’ She responded without thinking and, predictably, he pounced on her answer.

      ‘But I thought you’d been working for the Larkins?’ His stare intensified, leaving her squirming like a bug under a ten-year-old’s magnifying glass in the sun.

      Crossing her fingers behind her back, she hoped her voice remained steady. ‘I was, but I’m from Brisbane originally.’

      ‘Ah.’ Before she could breathe a sigh of relief, he continued, ‘So, what about the boyfriend?’

      For a moment, she hoped he was asking out of interest in her as an available woman, before reality set in. The likes of Dylan Harmon would never be interested in the hired help, unless it was for one thing. And she had no intention of making that bed or lying in it.

      ‘You’re my boss, not my owner. My private life is none of your business.’ She folded her arms in a purely defensive gesture, wishing she could ignore that probing stare. Unfortunately, her action drew his stare downwards before he quickly returned his gaze to her face.

      ‘That’s where you’re wrong. You’ll be spending a lot of time travelling between our outback property and Melbourne, with little time off for socialising. I need to know that you’re one hundred per cent committed to this job. Otherwise, I’ll find someone else.’ He picked up a pen and tapped it against the desk, as though impatiently awaiting her answer.

      Though it went against the grain, she had to tell him about her private life—or lack of one. She needed this job and she hadn’t come this far to lose it now. ‘There’s no one special in my life at the moment. You’ll have my entire focus for the time I’m employed.’

      His face softened at her response. ‘Good. I need all your attention…for the tasks at hand.’

      His pause, combined with the subtle change in body language as he leaned towards her, sent her imagination spiralling out of control again. She stared at him, caught in the hypnotic intensity of his smouldering eyes, wanting to look away yet powerless to do so. If she didn’t know better, she could have sworn that he felt the bizarre attraction she’d conjured up out of thin air too.

      ‘Are you free tonight?’

      She blinked and resisted the impulse to nod like a schoolgirl being asked out on her first date. ‘That depends on you.’

      He smiled, the rare flash of brilliance illuminating his face and sending her heart hammering in her chest. ‘Oh, really? How so?’

      Ignoring her pounding pulse and wondering how she could control her treacherous reactions to her handsome boss, she said, ‘I didn’t know the hours I’d be expected to work. Your mother suggested I discuss it with you.’

      ‘So, if I say I need you tonight, you’re mine for the evening?’

      Oh-oh. She didn’t need this sort of encouragement. Her overactive imagination was doing fine on its own, thank you very much, without help from his innuendo.

      She cleared her throat. ‘As your butler, I would’ve expected to work evenings. As your PA, I thought most work could be accomplished during the day.’

      His smile broadened, if that were possible. ‘Not for what I have in mind.’

      Thankfully, the intercom buzzed on his desk, saving her from answering. She took a deep breath and wondered if he played word games with all his female staff. Was he actually flirting with her or was her limited experience with men rearing its head?

      Dylan hit the speaker button. ‘Yes, Mum?’

      Liz Harmon’s voice filtered through the intercom. ‘I was wondering if you could spare Sam for a moment? I need to discuss a few things with her.’

      He looked up at his new personal assistant, who had her head bent over the stack of invoices and was sorting them into several neat piles as if her life depended on it. ‘Sure, as long as it doesn’t take too long. I’ve upgraded her position from butler to PA and we have a mountain of work to get through.’

      His mother chuckled. ‘This, from the man who said he didn’t need help?’

      He studied the way Sam’s hair fell in loose curls around her face, the slight frown that marred her smooth forehead, the flicker of her tongue as it darted out to moisten her top lip. He’d noticed she’d done that earlier, when he’d first strolled out of the bathroom and seen her standing in his bedroom, and several times since; he assumed it was a nervous reaction, though it sure as hell drove him crazy every time she did it. How could such an innocuous movement elicit the wayward thoughts he’d been experiencing about what the gorgeous Sam’s tongue could be doing to him?

      ‘Dylan, you still there?’

      Wrenching his thoughts out of the gutter, he replied, ‘Yes, Mum. I’ll send Samantha right up.’

      ‘Thanks. Oh, and by the way, you’re welcome.’

      He smiled as his mother’s chuckles petered out and he disconnected. ‘Leave those for now. You can get back to it later.’

      Sam looked up and, once again, the luminous green of her eyes hit him like a blow to the solar plexus. It wasn’t the colour so much as the clarity that shone like a beacon, beckoning him to challenge her, taunt her, flirt with her, anything to get her looking at him with more than a passing interest from an employee for her boss. That was what had prompted him to offer her the job as his personal assistant—the more time she spent in his company, the more chance she might look at him with the spark he’d glimpsed when he’d caressed her cheek that morning. That one, fleeting flare of fire in her eyes had aroused him more than any other woman had in a long, long time.

      She stood up and he had a chance to admire the snug fit of the uniform. He had a real hankering to see her without it—hell, he wished he could see her trim body with nothing at all—but, right now, he’d settle for anything else in her wardrobe. For some strange reason she had too much poise, too much class, to be wearing a uniform and he didn’t need any reminder of her status as his employee. If he had his way she’d be far more than that by the end of her three month stint; it had been far too long since he’d had a lover.

      ‘About