Hired for the Boss's Bedroom

‘Not a million miles away,’ Heather told him cautiously.

‘Which would be where, exactly?’

‘Reading. Near Reading, as a matter of fact.’

‘Good football team there.’ He looked to Daniel, including him in the conversation, making it impossible for her not to respond. ‘And your family…do they still live there?’

‘No. They don’t. My father died years ago, and my mother remarried and moved to Portugal. She lives there now. Has a little hairdressing business.’ No state secrets there, but Heather still didn’t like exposing her private life to him, and she didn’t know why.

‘Brothers? Sisters?’

‘Just me.’

‘So let me get this straight…’ Leo’s smile made her heart beat with sickening force. ‘You lived in Reading, no siblings, mother in Portugal with stepfather…What made you decide to move out here? Reading might not be one of the biggest cities in the UK, but it’s still a city—still has nightclubs, restaurants, theatres, all the things that would appeal to a person of your age. In other words, you must find life pretty dead out here.’

‘Stop interrogating the poor child!’ Katherine said sharply, and Leo looked at his mother in amazement. When was the last time she had ever snapped at him? Normally she tiptoed around him, treating him as though he inhabited a different plane. ‘You might have lots of money and power, Leonardo West, but that doesn’t give you the right to do as you please with other people. You must be able to see that Heather feels uncomfortable about your probing!’

Duly chastised, Leo flushed. He noticed that his son was smirking at him.

‘Which just goes to show—’ he took advantage of the temporary ceasefire to draw Daniel into a conspiracy of male bonding ‘—that no man is safe from a nagging woman. You’ll discover that for yourself in due course.’

One Disney movie and three bags of popcorn later, Heather was more than ready to make her excuses and get back to the safety of her cottage.

Her head was in a whirl. Before she had even met him, she had had some very strong, preconceived notions of Leo West: he was a selfish, egotistic workaholic who virtually ignored his mother and paid lip service to the fact that he had found himself in possession of a son, having been an absentee father for the majority of Daniel’s life.

When she had finally set eyes on him, she was honest enough to admit she had been a little taken aback by the force of his personality and good looks. Having likened him to Brian in her head, she had very quickly realised that Brian was a minnow next to a man like Leo West.

After a few hours in his company, watching as some of that ferocious, icy discipline began to thaw, she was confused to find herself actually beginning to see him as more than just a comforting cardboard cutout. He was a complex, three-dimensional human being, and she didn’t know whether she wanted to deal with that. Fortunately, she wouldn’t have to.

Once there had been less of a necessity for her to be roped in as mediator, she had no trouble in wriggling out of the remainder of the planned evening. Daniel might not have been transformed into the loving son, but at least he seemed to have forgotten the debacle of the missed Sports Day. And Katherine…

That little show of backbone, when she had soundly ticked off Leo and spared Heather the embarrassment of being cross examined like a criminal in the dock, had been a telling reminder that she was still a mother and Leo still a son.

All told, she’d been able to leave with a pretty clear conscience.

By seven-thirty she was back in her studio. Painting had never before let her down. In the aftermath of Brian, she had retreated back to her art, and it had been a soothing balm.

Its soothing, balm-like qualities were proving more elusive now. In fact, as she peered at the fairy she had just spent forty-five minutes painting meticulously, she could swear that he bore a striking resemblance to Leo. How had that happened? And what role could a cruel, money-obsessed, self-centred workaholic fairy have in a children’s book?

Having downgraded to the television—which was having a similarly non-remedial effect on her chaotic thoughts—she was startled when she heard a bang on the door.

Heather didn’t think for a moment that it would be anyone but Leo, and she was shocked and frightened to discover that her heart was doing all sorts of weird things. Her head was behaving pretty badly as well, forcing her to recall the way his mouth curved in that smile that was always not very far away from cynical; the way he tilted his head to one side when he was listening to something, giving the impression that he was listening intently with every fibre of his being.

Faced with the unpalatable truth that the man had somehow managed to spark something in her that she had convinced herself was long dead and buried, Heather yanked open the door, bristling for attack.

‘You’ve been painting again,’ was the remark that greeted her. ‘How are the fairies? All work and no play; you know what they say about that.’

‘You keep showing up on my doorstep!’

‘There’s a lot to be said for predictability. Hope I’m not interrupting anything—aside from a painting jag, that is?’

‘Why are you here?’

‘I come bearing gifts.’

She hadn’t noticed, but now he lifted both hands and she could see that he was carrying several carrier-bags.

‘What’s that?’ Heather asked suspiciously.

‘Food—Chinese. And a bottle of wine, of course. Today has worn Daniel out, and my mother has retreated to watch something on television. A historical romance; I didn’t think I’d be able to stomach it.’

‘And you didn’t decide to work?’

‘This seemed a more interesting option.’ Besides, he felt in holiday mode. The day had gone well, and more than that…Leo had found himself watching her, watching the way she laughed, closing her eyes and throwing her head back, giving it everything. He watched the way she related to his mother and his son, gentle and compassionate. He had also found himself watching the way her body had shifted under her clothes, the bounce of her breasts when she had reached across to get the salt on the table…

After that illuminating little chat about the stock market, there had been no more work-related discussions, although he was pretty sure that she would rise to the challenge given half a chance. No, the conversation had been light and amusing, and he had enjoyed himself.

He had a chequered love life behind him, which was just the way he liked it. But lately he had become bored with the relentlessly intellectual conversations provided by the women he dated; bored with trying to arrange dates, with each of the women consulting their BlackBerries, endeavouring to find a suitable gap in hectic timetables, bored with leggy brunettes.

A change was as good as a rest, he had decided, and that change came in the small, curvy figure of the woman looking at him as though he might very well be something infectious.

She was a challenge, and Leo was in a mood to take on a challenge.

Furthermore, it had crossed his mind that seeing his son, and his mother for that matter, had been a considerably less stilted business with Heather in the mix. They relaxed with her in a way that they never relaxed around him. Taking on this challenge might have more than just the expected rewards.

He surfaced to the tail end of something she had been saying, and when he frowned she said very slowly, as if she were talking to someone mentally challenged, ‘There was no need for you to come over here with food. You probably feel that this is a suitable thank-you gesture, but I don’t need thanking.’

‘Stop being so bad tempered and let me in. The food’s going cold. Cold Chinese food is never a good sight—congeals.’ He gave her a crooked smile. ‘Besides, what’s wrong with accepting a little thanks?’

It was the smile. Heather’s mouth went dry and she stared at him. The sight of him took her breath away. She was aware that she was gaping, and she snapped her mouth shut and reminded herself that being deprived of breath was not a good place to be. In fact, it was terminal.

‘It was a good day.’ He was still smiling, his shrewd eyes taking in her response to him and banking it. She fought like a wild cat, but he got to her and, considering she got to him as well, it seemed only fitting. ‘And you deserve credit for it.’

‘Why are you being nice?’

‘Maybe I want to show you that I’m not the self-centred, arrogant monster you seem to think I am.’

‘I never said you were a monster.’ She was struck by the thought that to turn him away would be to admit that her past still had a hold over her; that Brian—three years gone—still had a hold over her and could still influence the way she related to other people, other men.

‘Okay.’ She stood aside, making up her mind, realising that she had nothing to fear but herself and her stupid overreactions. Besides, he’d be gone in a few hours. ‘But I really have to get back to my painting some time tonight.’

Leo stepped inside, brushing her protestations aside, and headed for the kitchen. Unerringly he knew where it would be, and felt her walking behind him; he liked the anticipation of what the evening might bring. Sure there was a lot to be said for predictability, but there was a great deal more to be said for the thrill of the unknown, and her obvious reluctance to be anywhere near him had roused his hunting instincts.

He dumped the bags on the table. The wine was still cold from the fridge.

‘If you point to the plates…’

‘Don’t tell me that you’re Mr Domestic?’