Unbuttoned by Her Maverick Boss

‘It would be fair, don’t you think?’ he said. ‘I mean, you have me at a disadvantage.’

‘You put yourself at a disadvantage.’ She was even more breathless now. And privately she thought his semi-nudity a huge benefit to him—how to fuzzle the minds of your business opponents in one easy step. She angled away from him—trying to recover her equilibrium. She got a clear view of the fence and saw one section was covered with a huge bit of graffiti. The colours leapt out, almost 3D, in bold blocks. An image of a man—like an ancient statue—with vibrant shades of blue leaping out from behind and an indecipherable word shooting up from one side. She’d never have expected it; the reception area she’d walked through had been incredibly slick—it was only the office upstairs that had been a total mess. Now there was this—what many people would consider an eyesore.

He walked in front of her line of vision and picked up the ball again, spinning it in his hands. ‘We can talk through the details at the same time.’

He was still smiling but there was an edge back now—a deliberate challenge. But it was one she just had to turn down. No way was she playing ball with him. This wouldn’t be like some Hollywood movie where she scored a hoop first shot. She’d miss it by a mile and totally embarrass herself. She hadn’t played in years—to land baskets you needed to practise. She had no hope of relying on muscle memory now.

‘Perhaps it would be best if we reschedule this meeting,’ she ducked it.

The smile tugged harder on one corner of his mouth.

‘You might want to take a shower now,’ she added coldly.

His brows lifted then. ‘You really don’t like sweat?’ He laughed as he looked over her pale blue suit. ‘No. You wouldn’t, would you?’

She went silent—refusing to rise to that one. Truth was, she was feeling utterly human right now and starting to sweat herself just from looking at him. Cara hadn’t mentioned that her boss was completely gorgeous.

She looked at the graffiti again, eyes narrowed as she tried to work out one of the letters in that word.

‘Damn kids.’ He’d followed the direction of her gaze.

‘It could be worse,’ she said. Not wanting to find anything to agree on with him.

‘You think?’

‘Yeah, it could just be a tag—you know, initials, a name or something. But that’s actually quite a cool picture.’

He coughed. It started as a clear-your-throat kind of cough, but rapidly turned into a hacking one that sounded as if he were in danger of losing a lung. Anyone else and she’d ask if he was okay. But she wasn’t going anywhere nearer the personal with him. As it was they’d crossed some polite lines already and she was finding it way too unsettling.

‘It must have taken a while.’ She commented more on the graffiti just to cover the moment until he breathed freely at last. There actually was a lot of depth to the design. It couldn’t possibly be a three-minute spray and run number. ‘But it’s bad to do it to someone else’s property.’

‘You’re so right.’

She gave him a quick look. Was that a touch of laughter in his voice? His expression was back to brooding, even so, she suspected him.

‘So you’re desperate for an administrator, is that right?’ Finally she snapped back on track.

‘For the Whistle Fund, yes.’ He too suddenly went professional. ‘Kat, my receptionist here, has been too busy to be able to help much since Cara left. We’ve got a lot on right now so I need someone who can stay on board for at least a month. I need the mess sorted and then help with training a new recruit. I haven’t even got to advertise yet. Can you commit to it?’ He looked serious. ‘You’ll be paid of course. I wouldn’t expect anyone to take on this level of work voluntarily.’

‘I don’t need to be paid. I like to work voluntarily.’

‘You’ll be paid,’ he clipped. ‘You can donate it back to the charity if you like, but you’ll be paid.’

So he didn’t want to be beholden to her? But she didn’t need the money, the income from her trust fund was more than enough for her to get by. She’d always needed something to give her a sense of dignity—had never sat around doing nothing but shopping and socialising. It wasn’t the way she’d been raised. Yes, they had money, but they still had to do something worthwhile with their time. Only she hadn’t managed to follow in the family footsteps and pursue a law based career. Her mother, brother and sister were all super successful lawyers. All the true save-the-oppressed kind, not corporate massive-fee-billing sharks. Worse was her father, who was a retired judge. He still worked—publishing research, heading reviews of the system. Sophy’s surname was synonymous with excellence in the field. Not one of them had failed or even deviated from that path.

Only Sophy.

So she’d tried to gain her credibility by being the yes-person. Doing all the voluntary stuff, being the consummate organiser of everything they asked for—mainly their own lives. She might not have their legal brains, but she was practical. Yet in trying to keep up with them she’d made one stupid, massive mistake—she’d mistaken her personal value. So she’d gone away. While overseas she’d finally found her own passion, her own calling. And as soon as she got the time she was going to build her business and prove her skill to the family.

‘Cara’s office is in the building here.’ He seemed to take her silence for acquiescence. ‘It’s all yours. I thought we could cover her okay but with her baby coming so soon and with Dani away with Alex, I need someone who can concentrate wholly on it.’

‘Full time?’ Sophy’s heart was sinking. She just wasn’t going to be able to say no.

‘Maybe for the first week to catch up.’ His grin was touchingly rueful. ‘After that just the mornings should be enough. And I’d need you to be present at whatever evening meetings there are and the functions. Actually, you need to finalise the details for the next one.’

Yes. The Whistle Fund was famous for its functions—fabulous evenings of entertainment that drew the rich and famous out, and got them to open their wallets too. The presence of the ‘stars’ meant the presence of Joe Public was huge too—everybody liked to be a VIP for a night.

‘You can’t find anyone else?’ Sophy tried one last avenue. ‘Maybe from a temp agency?’

‘Cara wanted to be sure the office was in good hands. She doesn’t trust that a stranger will be able to come in and fix it. I don’t want to stress her any more than she already is. And she told me you’re the only one who can get this job done. I promised her I’d give you a shot.’

Sophy’s ears pricked at the slight hint of sarcasm—did he think she couldn’t get it done? Her spine stiffened—why, she could sort that lot upstairs in her sleep.

Cara had pleaded for her to come. Because Sophy’s sister, Victoria, was one of Cara’s best friends. And Victoria had talked to Cara—assured her Sophy was the one to do it: she was available, she was capable. Now it seemed she was all Cara could accept.

Sophy might as well have never gone away. Since landing back she’d stepped straight back into the overcommitted, overscheduled life she’d left two years before. No one had stopped to think she might have other things she wanted to do. And why should they? Hadn’t she been saying yes—as she always had?

So she should say no now. Say sorry, but that she had other priorities and couldn’t give him that much time. She looked at him, tried really hard not to let her gaze slip down his body again. There was a hard look in his eyes—as if he didn’t really believe what Cara had told him about her, and that he expected her to say no. That he’d just as soon phone for some anonymous temp and be done with it. Suddenly she sensed that he didn’t like having to ask her at all. That made her stand up even straighter.

And there was Cara herself, wasn’t there? Hovering over her tiny daughter in the incubator—with enough on her mind without needlessly worrying about her boss being so stressed out. What a crock. If Cara had seen him today, she’d have known she had no cause for concern—he was so relaxed he was out wasting time playing ball. But Sophy couldn’t let her sister’s friend down—just as she’d never let her sister down.

‘I’ll be back tomorrow to start,’ she said briskly.

‘I’ll be here to show you the ropes.’

‘Nine a.m.’ She let her gaze rake him one last time. ‘Sharp.’

She turned and walked. His words came just as the door closed behind her. Whether she was meant to hear the low suggestively spoken reply she didn’t know, but she did—and it almost incinerated her.

‘Yes, ma’am.’

Chapter Two

NINE a.m. came and went. Sophy sat in the office that looked as if it had been hit by a cyclone and checked her watch every thirty seconds or so. Unbelievable. No wonder this place was in such a mess. He certainly needed help. But he was so going the wrong way about getting it.

She filled in five minutes by moving some of the mail to find the keyboard. Decided to start opening and sorting it. Forty minutes later a portion of the desk was clear, the recycling bin was full of envelopes and half the letters were neatly stacked in classified piles. At that point she decided she shouldn’t go further without consulting him. She went downstairs to the receptionist.

‘Kat? I’m Sophy. Here to work on the Whistle Fund admin. Do you know where Mr Hall is?’

The receptionist blinked at her. ‘I thought he was up with you. I’ve been taking messages because he’s not picking up the phone.’

‘Well, he’s not with me.’

‘He’s not out the back?’

No. Naturally out of the window had been the first place she’d looked. Sophy heard the front doors slide open and turned expectantly. A courier driver walked in with a parcel under his arm.

‘Can you see if he’s on the third floor?’ Kat asked. ‘I need to deal with this.’