Beware of the Boss. Leah Ashton

      Even Gray had to smile at that. Since when had he been so sensitive to a change in feel?

      Well, whatever it was that had changed—it had. And it did bother him. Because it wasn’t just an irritation...all these questions and atmosphere-shifts...it had the potential to impact his bottom line.

      In fact it already was.

      And Gray was not going to tolerate that.

      In his peripheral vision, Gray noticed a lone figure walking near the dunes. As he glanced in her direction the woman waved, while her other hand firmly held an oversized floppy hat to her head.

      Automatically Gray waved back, then refocussed. Deliberately he crossed from the wet sand to the dry, wanting the extra demand on his muscles the deep, soft sand forced from his body.

      It turned out that, despite the many years since his dad had actually led a Manning project, for some of his clients Gordon Manning had been a very real and very important presence—somewhere behind the scenes.

      The reality that it had truly been Gray they’d been working with—not Gray as Gordon’s mouthpiece—didn’t matter, and that exasperated Gray.

      He deserved the trust he thought he’d already earned. He deserved his stature in Australia’s business community.

      A larger wave pushed far up the beach and Gray’s bare feet splashed through foamy puddles as the water slid back into the ocean.

      It also annoyed him that he hadn’t realised this reality. That he hadn’t fully understood what it meant to be Gordon Manning’s son, regardless of his own track record and years of success.

      So it was frustrating and exasperating and irritating...

      But it was also...

      Gray’s time.

      Now was his time to prove himself.

      And nothing could be allowed to stand in his way.

      * * *

      Lanie dropped her arm as Gray disappeared into the distance. He’d waved each morning since she’d started at Manning, although he’d shown no sign of realising she was the woman he’d been so rude to on the beach that morning of the relay final. Now, knowing Gray, she doubted he ever would.

      She’d considered telling him—but what would that achieve?

      Lanie knew the answer to that: a blank stare, followed directly by a look that said Why are you wasting my time with this?

      That was a look she was quickly becoming familiar with. At least now she didn’t take it personally. Pretty much everything not immediately related to Manning and preferably relevant right at that moment elicited exactly that look.

      ‘Which hotel would you like me to book for you in Adelaide?’

      When he’d discovered he was not, in fact, booked into his favourite hotel, he’d booked himself in, then sent Lanie a helpful e-mail with the name of the ‘correct’ hotel for next time.

      ‘For that presentation tomorrow, would you like me to include the numbers from the Jameson project?’

      Turned out she’d guessed right with that one...

      So a returned wave each morning was both unexpected and welcome. Although ignoring the woman he worked with every single day would have been quite a stretch—even for Gray.

      With Gray and Luther little more than specks in the distance, Lanie started walking again and allowed her thoughts to circle back to where they’d been before the flash of Luther’s red coat against the sand had distracted her.

      It would be odd, she’d just decided, if she wasn’t jealous of her sister.

      Wouldn’t it?

      She didn’t know. It was what had got her out of the house so ridiculously early on a work day. She needed the beach. The space, the salt and the sound of the waves... It was all as familiar to her as breathing.

      Water had always helped her. Whether chlorinated or not, it was where she gravitated at times of stress. When her dad had left it had seemed natural. He was, after all, the reason she loved water. With an offshore mining job he’d rarely been home—but when he had he’d spent all his time at the beach.

      As an adult, she looked back and wondered whether he’d simply tolerated the fact she’d clung to him like a limpet when he was home—rather than her more romanticised version in which she’d told herself she’d been his swimming buddy.

      Because surely if he’d really wanted her there he would have bothered to stay in touch after he’d left. Or not left at all.

      But if nothing else he’d given Lanie her love of water and the genes that helped her swim very quickly through it.

      It had been a mistake to skip the beach earlier in the week. She needed to rectify it. Even today, with the wind whipping off the waves and gluing her long cargo trousers and thin woollen jumper to her skin, it was the right place for her to attempt to organise her thoughts and her reactions.

      Sienna had e-mailed her overnight, full of post-championships euphoria. From the magnificence of the closing ceremony to how much fun she was having, through to how she was dealing with the rabid tabloid press after being seen out on a date with a British rower.

      Lanie had seen the photos—and the headlines—as they’d made it to Australia too. ‘Golden couple’. ‘Winners in love’.

      Jealousy? Whatever it was she was feeling, she hadn’t defined it.

      Until Sienna’s e-mail.

      It hadn’t been until right at the end, amongst all the glitz and excitement, that her sister had acknowledged how Lanie might be feeling. Her sister wasn’t stupid, or heartless. A bit oblivious at times—but then, that was Sienna.

      Somehow, though, Sienna’s awkward attempts at making the contrast in their situations seem somehow okay had hit home harder than anything else.

      How are you doing? It wasn’t the same without you. You should be so proud of your personal best, though. Any other year you definitely would’ve made the team.

      And so here she was, at the beach.

      Walking today, not swimming—but the scale and scope of the ocean helped, just as she’d known it would.

      She envied Sienna. She was jealous.

      Today she allowed herself to be.