Beware of the Boss

Turned out she’d guessed right with that one...

So a returned wave each morning was both unexpected and welcome. Although ignoring the woman he worked with every single day would have been quite a stretch—even for Gray.

With Gray and Luther little more than specks in the distance, Lanie started walking again and allowed her thoughts to circle back to where they’d been before the flash of Luther’s red coat against the sand had distracted her.

It would be odd, she’d just decided, if she wasn’t jealous of her sister.

Wouldn’t it?

She didn’t know. It was what had got her out of the house so ridiculously early on a work day. She needed the beach. The space, the salt and the sound of the waves... It was all as familiar to her as breathing.

Water had always helped her. Whether chlorinated or not, it was where she gravitated at times of stress. When her dad had left it had seemed natural. He was, after all, the reason she loved water. With an offshore mining job he’d rarely been home—but when he had he’d spent all his time at the beach.

As an adult, she looked back and wondered whether he’d simply tolerated the fact she’d clung to him like a limpet when he was home—rather than her more romanticised version in which she’d told herself she’d been his swimming buddy.

Because surely if he’d really wanted her there he would have bothered to stay in touch after he’d left. Or not left at all.

But if nothing else he’d given Lanie her love of water and the genes that helped her swim very quickly through it.

It had been a mistake to skip the beach earlier in the week. She needed to rectify it. Even today, with the wind whipping off the waves and gluing her long cargo trousers and thin woollen jumper to her skin, it was the right place for her to attempt to organise her thoughts and her reactions.

Sienna had e-mailed her overnight, full of post-championships euphoria. From the magnificence of the closing ceremony to how much fun she was having, through to how she was dealing with the rabid tabloid press after being seen out on a date with a British rower.

Lanie had seen the photos—and the headlines—as they’d made it to Australia too. ‘Golden couple’. ‘Winners in love’.

Jealousy? Whatever it was she was feeling, she hadn’t defined it.

Until Sienna’s e-mail.

It hadn’t been until right at the end, amongst all the glitz and excitement, that her sister had acknowledged how Lanie might be feeling. Her sister wasn’t stupid, or heartless. A bit oblivious at times—but then, that was Sienna.

Somehow, though, Sienna’s awkward attempts at making the contrast in their situations seem somehow okay had hit home harder than anything else.

How are you doing? It wasn’t the same without you. You should be so proud of your personal best, though. Any other year you definitely would’ve made the team.

And so here she was, at the beach.

Walking today, not swimming—but the scale and scope of the ocean helped, just as she’d known it would.

She envied Sienna. She was jealous.

Today she allowed herself to be.

FOUR

The unexpected sensation of warmth against his chest snatched Gray’s attention from the report he’d been reading. He glanced downwards, to discover a trail of pale brown liquid trickling in multiple rivulets down his front.

A brief perusal of the obvious culprit—the takeaway coffee cup in his hand—revealed a leak beneath the lid.

He swore. Loudly. He had a meeting right in this office in less than twenty minutes.

Tossing the defective lid into the bin beneath his desk, Gray downed the rest of his coffee as he tapped a short message into Manning’s internal instant messaging system.

Moments later his office door swung open, although Lanie paused before walking in. ‘You said you had a problem?’ she asked.

He stood, his gaze moving downwards as he surveyed the damage to his shirt and pulled the damp fabric away from his skin. With the other hand he gestured for Lanie to come closer.

Moments later her long, efficient stride had her by his side. ‘Nice one,’ she said, a hint of a smile in her tone. ‘I don’t suppose you have a spare shirt?’

‘If I did,’ he said, for the first time transferring his attention from the shirt to Lanie, ‘would I—?’

His eyes met hers and he momentarily had absolutely no idea what he’d been about to say.

She stood closer than he’d expected. Or maybe it was just her height. When she was in her heels they were very nearly eye to eye, and he still wasn’t quite used to that sensation.

Plus today she looked...different.

Her hair, he realised. It was tied back. It highlighted the striking structure of her face—the defined cheekbones, the firm chin—and her skin’s perfect golden glow.

He’d thought her pretty when he’d first met her, but right now she looked...

As he watched she raised an eyebrow.

Gray blinked. ‘If I had a spare shirt...’ he tried again ‘...would I need you?’

He looked down at his ruined clothing again, yanking his mind back on track. So what if he’d noticed Lanie looked nice today?

Lanie crossed her arms in front of herself. ‘What size are you?’ she asked.

Not for the first time she’d pre-empted his next question.

‘I have no idea.’

She didn’t bother to hide her sigh. ‘How can you not know that?’

Gray shrugged. ‘I shop in bulk. Those couple of times a year I shop, I figure out what size I am then.’

He reached for his shirt, automatically sliding button after button undone. He’d tugged it off his shoulders and gathered the fabric in his hands before he noticed Lanie had backed off a few steps and was currently staring out the window.

‘This is how I normally work out my size,’ he explained, finding the tag beneath the collar. ‘There you go. Turns out I wear a forty-two-inch shirt.’

‘And you’d like me to go buy you a replacement?’

‘Exactly.’

Not meeting his eyes, Lanie turned away from the window and took a step back towards the door. ‘You know, I could’ve just checked the tag for you. No need to...’ a pause ‘...undress.’

For the first time Gray noticed the tinge of pink to her cheekbones. He suspected the right thing to do would be to apologise. But with the words right on the tip of his tongue he paused.