Undressed by the Boss. Nicola Marsh

      ‘Could you have my car delivered?’ he asked discreetly, while Casey stood staring up at the outside of the aircraft-hangar-sized warehouse in awe.

      ‘Certainly, sir. Which car would you like?’

      Casey’s words about excess flew into his mind. She could be his conscience for the day, he decided wryly, asking for the Tesla to be delivered dockside.

      ‘The Tesla? Yes, sir.’

      ‘Come on,’ he said, turning to Casey. ‘Let’s go inside …’

      He took her through a small side door into a yawning space, packed with everything from a stretch Hummer to a side room holding enough cutting-edge carbon technology tack for five teams of polo ponies. There was enough excess inside here to give her a blue fit.

      ‘What on earth is all this?’ she said softly, and he could already hear her mind cogs whirring.

      She was probably imagining a store where she would have to put all these things on sale under the same roof, and wondering how on earth she was going to organise it.

      ‘We’re not finished yet,’ he warned as he led the way down an aisle lined with packing cases stretching high into the silence of the dust-flecked air.

      ‘What is all this?’ she repeated.

      Her voice was tense and excited, though she kept her distance as they walked along.

      ‘You like a challenge, don’t you?’

      ‘Yes,’ she said cautiously.

      ‘Then let’s move on to the inner sanctum.’

      There were guards on the door, and a number of pass codes had to be inputted before finally iris recognition allowed him entry. Once they were inside he could see she was surprised by the fact that, compared to the rest of the facility, this was a relatively comfortable and ordinary-looking office. Having shut them inside the hermetically sealed space, he touched a hidden lever, and a safe in the floor began to rise.

      ‘Any more surprises?’ she asked him when he glanced at her.

      They shared a moment, and this time he let his gaze linger. ‘We’ll have to see, won’t we?’ he teased her gently as she looked away. ‘I’m not wholly sure what surprises you yet.’

      Now she blushed.

      Taking a key fob from his pocket, he approached the safe and keyed in the numbers, changed remotely on the fob every few minutes by satellite signal. He heard her gasp when the door sprang open as if by magic. Withdrawing a small leather suitcase, he suggested she sat down.

      ‘I’ll bring it over to the table,’ he said, ‘so you can take a proper look. There are things in here it would be better not to drop …’

      * * *

      Raffa drew up a chair and sat close by without touching her. It was hard to relax, but she must relax if she were to concentrate. She inhaled deeply, drawing on his delicious scent and warmth, allowing her eyes one last greedy glimpse of his strong, pirate’s face before putting herself on a strict Raffa-free diet.

      She gasped as he showed her the fabulous Fabergé egg. ‘Oh, my …’ Her voice tailed away.

      She had sold many things in her time, but nothing to compare with this. The workmanship was breathtaking in its complexity, and so much more beautiful than any photograph would allow. But she didn’t have the know-how required to sell objets d’art of this quality, Casey realised, wondering if she was destined to fail this test.

      Raffa went on to reveal what amounted to not a king’s ransom in jewels, but a Sheikh’s. Remembering her bemusement at the price paid for one car registration plate, Casey realised she would have to make some serious adjustments to her thinking. And she would have to stop being distracted by Raffa, who right now was handling the various artefacts with reverence and sensitivity. She had never encountered a man with such power and strength and yet such sensibility. No wonder she was distracted—those hands, that concentration …

      She must have quivered involuntarily, for he looked up.

      ‘Are you all right, Casey?’ he asked her softly.

      She passed a hand across her brow, pretending concentration on a breathtaking collar of emeralds and diamonds which Raffa had just removed from a velvet case. ‘So, what kind of retail facility did you have in mind for all this?’ she asked him in a voice turned suddenly dry. ‘I should own up right away and tell you I have never sold anything of this value before.’

      ‘Very few people have,’ he pointed out. ‘But you can sell anything, according to your CV.’

      ‘That refers to concepts and schemes rather than fabulous objects like this.’

      ‘Then it’s time to stretch yourself,’ Raffa countered.

      How had their heads become so close their faces were almost touching? They were both leaning over the glittering mound of jewels on the table like two children examining a pirate’s hoard; both of them with eyes bright with the light of possibility. Though Casey guessed hers was the only heart trying to beat its way out of a chest.

      ‘So, what do you think?’ Raffa said as he toyed with the magnificent emerald and diamond necklace.

      Everything she shouldn’t, Casey thought, wishing she could concentrate on the only thing that mattered—which was the job she was here to try out for.

      ‘Casey?’ Raffa prompted.

      She snapped her brain onto full alert. ‘I think I should hire experts to advise and assist me,’ she said. ‘But I will sell these for you.’

      ‘Good,’ he said, settling back. ‘Though I think sapphires would suit you better,’ he added, as Casey distractedly toyed with the emerald necklace.

      ‘You do?’ She made the very serious mistake of looking at him questioningly.

      ‘Yes, I do,’ he murmured.

      She swallowed deep as, having selected a fabulous sapphire necklace from the hoard in front of them, Raffa used one hand to brush her long hair to one side before looping the glinting band of royal blue stones around her neck. She was suddenly acutely conscious of the silence between them, and of her own unsteady breathing. She couldn’t move or break the spell, and though she was wearing her hair neatly tied in a ribbon, and was in every way modestly dressed, her prim exterior bore no relation to the hot thoughts racing through her head.

      It was another forceful reminder that having no experience of sex was no guarantee that she would never think about it. Vividly. And, yes, at the most inopportune of moments. Like now … when the warm touch of Raffa’s fingers on her collarbone was making it so hard to remain still, and when the heavy platinum collar he was placing round her neck felt like a restraining device of a wickedly erotic kind—one that should horrify her, but instead tempted her to sigh and roll her head as the cool metal met her skin.

      As if this wasn’t dangerous enough, when Raffa snapped the catch into place her body yearned for him. ‘I’d better not get used to this,’ she said out loud. Coming determinedly to her senses, she reached up, removed the necklace and handed it back to him.

      ‘It doesn’t hurt to indulge in a little fantasy shopping once in a while.’

      ‘As long as you don’t confuse fantasy with reality,’ Casey agreed. As she watched Raffa replace the priceless jewels in their nest, Casey murmured, ‘I wonder who they are destined for?’

      Raffa’s sharp glance caught her out. For all her brave words about fantasy and reality, she had never been short of imagination.

      ‘You never know, I might want to keep them,’ she said, laughing to make light of it.

      ‘Then I’d better lock them away …’

      His gaze held hers for a moment. Was it possible to want a man so