Bedded By The Boss. Yvonne Lindsay

window? That unhinged her almost to the point of madness?

      She tore her eyes from him and tried to focus on the papers on his desk, on the spectacular expanse of clear sky visible through the window, on the spotless gray carpet. But each time her attention drifted back, in imperceptible degrees, to the man who consumed it.

      To the way his hair was starting to touch his collar slightly in the back, in need of a cut. To the powerful tanned wrists revealed by the turned-back cuffs of his white shirt. To the way his tie was loosened slightly, accommodating one opened button at the neck of his shirt. Elan always looked a little too confined in clothes, as if he’d like to peel them off and get comfortable.

      Or was it just her that wanted to peel them off? The thought made her anything but comfortable. She closed her eyes, attempting to block the sight of him from her vision. To block the image of him from her mind. But his midnight gaze was burned into her retinas.

      “Are you…all right?”

      “Yes,” she said, her voice rather too high-pitched. He might well ask. He’d caught her standing in his office with her eyes closed. Was she all right? Most definitely not. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever be all right again. “Will that be all?” She managed to plaster on a thin veneer of professionalism, even as she started automatically backing toward the doorway.

      “Yes, thank you.” Elan had turned away from her and bent over his desk, opening a drawer. She could see his biceps flexed tightly under the cotton of his shirt, his fists almost clenched. The tension in the air was suffocating, a cloying atmosphere of regret and recrimination that tormented them both.

      What on earth had she been thinking when she touched Elan, when she kissed him, when she…

      She turned on her heel and flew out the door. She accidentally slammed it in her haste to escape. Outside, she gasped a deep gulp of air and bent double as blood rushed to her head.

      The only way she could survive this was to pretend it had never happened. To avoid thinking about it. It. The elusive it that sprang only too readily to the forefront of her consciousness. A night against which all other nights would inevitably be measured for the rest of her life.

Six

      “We’d be delighted to do business with you. Thank you so much for coming.” Sara shook the last cool hand of the venture capitalist team from New York. She ushered them out of the conference room, professional smile fixed in place.

      As the tall mahogany door closed behind them she collapsed into a chair, shaking.

      A six-hour meeting. With the CEO, CFO, new business strategist and two administrative staff.

      By herself.

      “I’m sure you can handle the details,” Elan had said, when he announced he had other plans that morning.

      Anderson Capital, which planned to invest in small “wildcat” oil-drilling firms and employ El Mansur Associates’ technology and expertise to make them more profitable, had the potential to bring millions of dollars of annual revenue to the company. And Elan had handed her the account, to win or lose, all on her own.

      He wanted her to fail.

      He wanted her to admit defeat. Quit. Leave.

      And he wanted that so badly that he didn’t mind risking an important account to do it.

      She’d already failed once. She’d betrayed his trust, broken her promise that she would not overstep the bounds of her job. This time she was determined not to fail.

      Every day her mountain of responsibilities increased. The challenges Elan tossed in her direction grew more complex and demanding. She hadn’t slept more than three hours a night lately as she needed every single minute to prepare for the onslaught of meetings, reports and presentations that were now her responsibility in addition to her administrative duties.

      Her cell phone vibrated—again—and she thought of the work that must be piling up on her desk right this minute.

      She took a deep breath. “Hello.”

      “Please come to my office.” Elan.

      A flash of anger warred with the heat his deep voice conjured as it curled into her ear. “I’ll be right there.” How could he push her this hard?

      She hung up the phone, gathered her papers, and shoved out into the hallway.

      This is what she wanted, right? A challenging, highly paid position in the exact field of her expertise. Of course she’d never dreamed she’d be performing duties more suited to a senior vice president than to an executive assistant and project manager. She had Elan to thank for that, though thanks was really the last thing on her mind right now.

      She stormed out of the elevator on her floor, dropped the sheaf of papers on her desk—which now looked as overloaded and messy as Elan’s—and rapped on the door to his office.

      “Come in.”

      She steeled herself against the sight of him.

      “How was the meeting?” He lounged back in his chair. His black gaze threatened to steal the breath from her lungs as she groped for a response.

      “I believe it went well,” she said stiffly. “They were concerned specifically about our ability to scale production quickly in the event a large new field was discovered, and I assured them that would not be a problem.”

      “Good. I’d like you to prepare a proposal that covers any issues raised during the meeting and provides them with a detailed summary of the services we can offer…”

      She nodded, watching his mouth as he rumbled about the chain of production and pipeline capacity.

      Was this the same man who had held her that night in the desert?

      She’d looked into his eyes and felt a connection deeper than she could have ever imagined. He’d held her so tenderly, so passionately, she was sure she’d found…her soul mate.

      She’d been wrong.

      She swallowed hard. “I’ll have it on your desk first thing tomorrow.”

      He regarded her steadily for a moment, dark gaze drifting over her face. Could he see she was exhausted? Barely able to function?

      Did that give him satisfaction?

      She could read nothing in his stern features.

      As his fingers wrapped around his gold fountain pen, she couldn’t help but remember the way they’d circled her waist, his hands so broad and strong he could lift her as if she weighed no more than a grain of sand.

      “Thank you,” he said. Her dismissal. He turned back to the report he was reading.

      She stood her ground. You won’t break me.

      She stared at him for a moment, daring him to look back up at her. Did she imagine it, or did his fingers tighten around the pen? He paused in his reading, tugged at his collar, then glanced at her.

      Their eyes met. “Will that be all?”

      Sir.

      She wanted him to know she saw the game he was playing.

      “Yes, Sara.” He said her name slowly, emphatically, his dark eyes unblinking. Her stomach flipped and she held herself steady.

      His full lips straightened into a hard line.

      Lips that had kissed her with force and tenderness she could never have imagined. Lips that had teased and tempted her into a frenzy of passion.

      Lips that held the power to fire her, as she’d invited him to do on her first day.

      Yes, she’d failed once, and she wanted him to know it would never happen again.

      Elan leaned back