Australia: In Bed with the Boss. Emma Darcy

was the apartment with the east-north balconies.

      They walked into a wonderfully light, airy, open-plan living area and for Amy it was love at first sight. To live here—if only for six months—it was irresistible—an incredible bargain!

      The floor was covered with marvellous tiles, the pearlescent colour of sea-shells crushed into a wavy pattern that instantly suggested a seabed of gently undulating sand. The wall facing the bay was almost all glass, offering a panoramic view and a wealth of sunshine. Other walls were painted a pale cream. The kitchen was shiny new, all blonde wood and stainless steel, fitted with a dishwasher and a microwave oven, as well as a traditional one.

      In the living room, two men in paint-spotted overalls sat on foldaway chairs, eating their lunch. A spread-sheet was laid out on the floor underneath them. Tins of paint stood on it in a tidy group.

      “How’s it going?” Ted asked them.

      “One more coat on the skirting boards and architraves and we’re finished,” the older one answered.

      These were being painted a pearly grey, picking up on some of the grains in the tiles and making a stylish contrast to the cream.

      “Still wet?”

      “Should be touch-dry by now. It’s safe to move around.”

      “Fine.” Ted turned to Amy. “The old carpet’s been ripped out of the bedrooms for the carpenter to fit the cupboards properly. The new one won’t be laid until later this week,” he warned.

      “There’s more than one bedroom?” Amy asked, stunned by the spaciousness of the apartment.

      “Two.”

      Jake wandered over to chat to the painters as the agent steered Amy towards an archway in the back wall of the living room. Apparently he didn’t intend to participate in her decision, which made a mess of her line of logic.

      She made a determined effort to shake off her preoccupation with his influence, realising she must have misread the situation, possibly blowing it completely out of proportion. When all was said and done, he had only followed through on what he had advised her. Having her right where he wanted her could simply mean keeping her happy as his assistant.

      Through the archway was a short hall with doors at both ends of it and two more doors facing the wall with the arch. The latter pair were opened first. “Laundry and bathroom,” Ted pointed out.

      The laundry held a linen and broom cupboard, washer, dryer and tub. All new. Amy was delighted to see the washer and dryer since Steve had taken those in the division of their property, leaving her with the refrigerator and the TV. She’d envisaged visits to a laundrette, an inconvenience she wouldn’t have to put up with here.

      The bathroom was positively luxurious. It had obviously been renovated, the same tiles in the living area being carried through to it and the same blonde wood in the kitchen being used on the vanity bench. Incredibly, it featured a Jacuzzi bath as well as a shower and everything else one could need.

      “These old places were built to be roomy. Couldn’t put a bath like that in most modern apartments,” Ted remarked, probably noting her stunned expression. “You don’t often see such high ceilings, either. All the rooms here have bigger dimensions than usual.”

      And there’d been an enormous amount of money poured into making the most of them, Amy thought. No expense spared. Little wonder that the owner didn’t want it damaged by careless tenants.

      The second bedroom was larger than average. The main bedroom was larger still, with glass doors that led out onto the north-facing balcony. “What colour is the new carpet?” Amy asked.

      Ted shrugged. “Don’t know. The owner picked it. I could tell you on Friday.”

      Amy shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve never been in such a lovely apartment. Believe me, Mr. Durkin, it would be an absolute pleasure to keep this in mint condition. Do you think the owner will accept me as a tenant?” she pressed eagerly.

      His face relaxed into an indulgent smile. His eyes twinkled at her in approval. “Why not? I can sell anything if I believe in it and I’m inclined to believe you, Miss Taylor.”

      “I promise your faith won’t be mislaid.”

      “Well, I do have Jake’s word for that, as well, so we’ll call it a done deal.”

      “Thanks a million, Mr. Durkin.” She grabbed his hand and shook it vigorously, feeling as though she’d won a lottery.

      His smile turned slightly ironic. “Guess you should thank Jake, Miss Taylor. He did the running.”

      “Yes, of course. I will.”

      Jake! He would probably be insufferably smug about it, but right at this moment Amy didn’t care. He’d done her a great favour. A fabulous favour! She floated back out to the living room on a cloud of happy pleasure. The apartment was hers. Six months of blissful living in this beautiful place! It was better than a vacation! New surroundings, new people, new everything!

      Jake turned from chatting to the painters and raised his eyebrows at her.

      She couldn’t help it. She grinned at him like a cheshire cat.

      He grinned back.

      Understanding zinged between them.

      It was like a touch of magic, a fountain of stars showering her, lifting her into a new life. She barely stopped herself from pirouetting across the tiled floor and hugging Jake Carter.

      “A done deal?” he asked.

      “A done deal,” she affirmed exultantly.

      “Then let’s go to lunch and celebrate,” he said.

      “Yes,” she agreed, too happy to worry about caution. Besides, he was part of this. Without Jake she wouldn’t have got this apartment. It was only right to share her pleasure with him.

CHAPTER EIGHT

      THE restaurant Jake drove her to was on the beach side of The Esplanade, just along from the old Bathers’ Pavilion, which he pointed out in passing, informing her it was a historic landmark at Balmoral. Amy smiled over the name. It conjured up men in long shorts and singlets, and women in bathing costumes with skirts and bloomers.

      The past, however, was wiped out of her mind as Jake led her into an ultra-modern dining room that shouted class with a capital C. “Table for Carter,” he murmured to the woman who greeted them, while Amy was still taking in the huge floral arrangement in the foyer—a splendid array of Australian flora in an urn. The waratahs alone would have cost a small fortune.

      Her heels clacked on polished floorboards as Jake steered her into following the woman. Well-dressed patrons sat in comfortable chairs at tables dressed in starched white linen and gleaming tableware. They bypassed a bar that curved around from the foyer and headed towards a wall of glass which seemed to rise from the water beyond it.

      This was an illusion, as Amy realised when she was seated right next to the window. There was a strip of beach below them, but they were so close to the waterline, the sense of being right on top of it stayed. Outside, a long wharf was lapped by waves and pelicans were using it as a resting place. Inside, she was handed a menu and asked what she’d like to drink.

      “Two glasses of champagne,” Jake answered, and gave Amy a smile that fizzed into her blood.

      “And a jug of iced water, please,” she quickly added, telling herself she needed to keep a cool head here.

      She’d been in classy restaurants many times with Jake and a party of his clients, but never before alone with him. The setting engendered a sense of intimacy, as well as a sense of special occasion. A glance at the prices on the menu left Amy in no doubt she was being treated to top class, and the dishes described