The Boss's Bedroom Agenda. Nicola Marsh

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.’