At Her Boss's Pleasure. Cathy Williams

anything but a rapidly beating heart, a dry mouth and perspiring palms which she surreptitiously wiped on her skirt.

      ‘He’s in charge of those accounts. Exclusively. Perhaps you could explain what it is you’d like to find out?’

      Alessandro pushed himself away from the desk and prowled through the office, noting in passing how little there was of her personality in it. No cutesy photographs in frames on the desk, no pot plants, no gimmicky pen-holder...not even a desk calendar with uplifting seascapes...or works of art...or adorable puppies...or semi-clad firemen...

      He said nothing for a few seconds, then spun to face her, hands thrust deep into his trouser pockets.

      ‘Quite by chance a batch of files was delivered to me—probably because “Private and Confidential” was stamped so boldly on the envelope that the post boy must have automatically headed up to the directors’ floor. I scanned them and there appeared to be...how shall I say this?...certain discrepancies that need checking out.’

      He couldn’t keep his eye on every single small detail within his vast empire. He paid people very generously indeed to do that, and with the fat pay packet came a great deal of trust.

      He trusted his people not to try and screw him over.

      ‘There are a couple of small companies whose names I can’t say I recognize. I may have a lot of companies, but generally speaking I do know what they’re called...’

      Kate paled as the significance of what he was saying began to sink in.

      ‘You catch on quickly,’ Alessandro said approvingly. ‘I had actually come down here to confront Cape with these files, but in his absence it might be a better idea for you to have a look at them and collate whatever evidence is necessary.’

      ‘Evidence? Necessary for what?’ she asked faintly, and flushed when he raised his eyebrows in question, as if incredulous that the point of what he had said might have passed her by. ‘George Cape is nearly at retirement age...he’s a family man...he has a wife, kids, grandchildren...’

      ‘Call me crazy,’ Alessandro said, with such silky assurance that she wanted to throw the goldfish paperweight at his handsome head, ‘but when someone I employ decides to take advantage of my generosity I tend to feel a little aggrieved. Of course I could be completely off target here. There might very well be a simple explanation for what I’ve seen...’

      ‘But if there isn’t...?’ She was unwillingly mesmerized by the graceful way he moved around her small office, his jacket bunching where his hand was shoved in his trouser pocket.

      ‘Well, the wheels of justice have to do something to keep busy...’ He shrugged. ‘So, here’s how this is going to play out: I am officially going to hand the files over to you and you are to examine them minutely, from cover to cover. I am assuming you know Cape’s password for his computer?’

      ‘I’m afraid I don’t.’

      ‘In which case get one of the computer whizz-kids to sort that out. You’re going to go through every single document that has been exchanged on this particular project and get back to me out of work hours.’

      ‘Out of work hours? What are you talking about?’

      ‘I think Cape’s been embezzling,’ Alessandro informed her bluntly. ‘We could keep going round the houses, but that’s the long and short of it. I had no idea that he was in sole charge of this project. Had he not been I might have been inclined to widen the net of suspicion, but it fundamentally comes down to just one man.’

      He paused to stand in front of her desk and she reluctantly looked up—and up, and up—into his dark, lean face.

      ‘From what I’ve seen there’s not a great deal of money involved, which might be why no alarm bells went off, but not a great deal over a long period of time could potentially amount to a very great deal, and if there are dummy companies involved...’

      ‘I hate the thought of checking into what George has been doing,’ Kate said truthfully. ‘He’s such a lovely guy, and he’s been good to me since I began working here. If it weren’t for him I probably wouldn’t have been promoted as quickly as I have been...’

      ‘Blow his trumpet too vigorously and I might start thinking that you are in on whatever the hell’s been going on.’

      ‘I’m not,’ she said coldly, her voice freezing over. Her green eyes held his. ‘I would never cheat anyone of anything. That’s not the sort of person I am.’

      Alessandro’s ears pricked up. He had dropped down to the third floor to deposit these papers with George Cape before heading out. He had no date—and no regret there either. His last blonde bombshell had gone the way of all good things, and he was back to the drawing board and more than happy to have a break from the fairer sex.

      Kate Watson—Ms Kate Watson—was everything he avoided when it came to women. She was cold, distant, intense, unsmiling and prickly. She never let him forget that she was there to do a damn good job and nothing else.

      But that single sentence...That’s not the sort of person I am...had made him wonder.

      What sort of person was she?

      ‘You were asking me about my out-of-hours suggestion...’ Alessandro moved the topic swiftly along, at the same time relegating her stray remark to a box from which it would be removed at a later date.

      He had nothing to do on a Friday night. A rare situation for him. He dragged the single spare chair in the room across to her desk and sat down, angling it so that he could extend his long legs to the side, crossing them at the ankles.

      Kate watched with something approaching horror. ‘I was about to leave... Perhaps we could continue this conversation on Monday morning? I’m usually in first thing. By seven-thirty most days.’

      ‘Laudable. It’s heart-warming to know that there’s at least one person in my finance department who doesn’t clock-watch.’

      ‘I’m sure you must have plans for the evening, sir...Alessandro. If I take the paperwork home I can have a look at it over the weekend and get back to you with my findings on Monday morning. How does that sound?’

      ‘The reason I suggested that we discuss this situation out of hours is because I would rather not have it turned into a matter for speculation. Naturally you would be paid generously for your overtime.’

      ‘It’s not about being paid for overtime,’ Kate said stiffly. She kept her eyes firmly pinned to his face, but she was all too aware of the lazy length of his body, the flex of muscles under the white shirt, the tanned column of his throat and the strength of his forearms where he had shoved the sleeves of his shirt to the elbows.

      He had always made her jumpy, in a way other men never had. There was a raw, primal, barely contained aggression about him that threatened her composure, and it had done so from the very first time she had set eyes on him as a new recruit to the company.

      It was dangerous. It was the sort of dangerous she could do without. She didn’t like the way her body seemed to respond to him of its own accord. It frightened her.

      Her upbringing had taught her many things, and the biggest thing it had taught her was the need for control. Control over her emotions, control over her finances, control over the destination of her life. She had grown up with a role model of a mother who had lacked all control.

      Shirley Watson had adopted the frivolous name Lilac at the age of eighteen, and had spent her life living up to it—moving from pole dancer to cocktail-bar waitress to barmaid back to cocktail-bar waitress, flirting with men’s magazine pin-ups along the way.

      A stunningly beautiful, pocket-sized blonde, she had only ever learned how to exploit the natural assets with which she had been born. Kate only knew sketchy details of her mother’s past, but she did know that Lilac had grown up as a foster-home kid. She had never known stability, and instead of trying