Beware of the Boss

But she was fine. She had a new job that paid well. A fresh start.

Not that working for a grumpy property magnate had ever been a particular dream of hers.

She looked across at Teagan. ‘So you can put the pink hair dye or whatever you were planning on hold for now.’

‘I was thinking more along the lines of a gorilla suit, but...’

And then they both laughed, and Gray and his shirtlessness was—mostly—forgotten amongst talk of Teagan’s latest disaster date, the cooking-related reality TV show they were both hooked on, and anything and everything else.

Except, of course, swimming. Or Sienna.

* * *

Lanie’s phone rang far too early the next morning.

She rolled over in the narrow single bed she’d grown up in, reaching out blindly with one hand towards her bedside table. Typically, she managed to knock the phone to the floor rather than grab it, so it took another twenty seconds of obnoxious ringing and fumbling around on her hands and knees in the inky darkness before said phone was located.

‘Hello?’ she said.

She’d been too disorientated to read the name on the screen, and besides it was most likely Sienna. Her sister hadn’t quite managed to figure out the whole time difference thing.

‘I need you to come over.’

The voice was deep and male. Definitely not her sister.

Lanie blinked in the semi-darkness. Dawn light was attempting to push its way under the edge of the bedroom’s blinds with little effect.

‘Gray?’ she asked, although it was a rhetorical question. Of course it was. ‘Do you know what time it is?’

‘I have a flight to Singapore that’s boarding in a few hours’ time—so, yes, I do.’

There was a long moment of silence as Lanie considered hanging up on him.

‘Oh,’ he said eventually. ‘I’m sorry. I woke you.’

Lucky.

‘Can you come over?’ he repeated. ‘Now?’

‘I’d rather not,’ she said honestly. ‘What’s the emergency?’

Now it was Gray’s turn to go silent. ‘Oh...’ he said again, and his surprise that she hadn’t just dropped everything to come to his aid was apparent even in that single syllable.

At work Lanie could roll her eyes at his unreasonable requests—probably not as subtly as she should—or she could tell herself it was her job or whatever. But just before five in the morning...

No. There was a line, and Gray had definitely just stepped over it.

‘It’s my dog,’ he said.

Instantly Lanie felt terrible. ‘Is he okay?’

‘Yes,’ Gray said. ‘But I forgot to organise someone to walk and feed him. Rodney used to sort it out for me, but I guess I didn’t mention it to you.’

Lanie supposed he got points for not making that somehow her fault.

‘And you couldn’t e-mail me about it?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I need you to come over now so I can explain what he eats and where to walk him, and—’

‘Okay, okay,’ she interrupted on a sigh. There was no point asking him to write it down. Gray just didn’t work—or think—like that. In his head it would be far more efficient for her to come over and for him to tell her. ‘I’m coming over.’

Ten minutes later she knocked on Gray’s front door. He lived only a few kilometres away from her, but unsurprisingly his house was right on the beach. It was gorgeous in an angular, modern, mansion-like way. At this hour of the morning the street was silent, save for the muffled crash of waves.

The door swung open, but before she could even say hello his back was to her as he walked away, already shooting out instructions. Luther, at least, bothered to greet her. He sat obediently for his welcome pats, then pressed his head against her thigh as she followed Gray down the hall. Lanie had thrown on an old tracksuit, and her sandals thwacked loudly against the pale, glossy porcelain tiles.

‘So, Luther is a red setter,’ Gray was explaining. ‘And he’s on this special prescribed diet as he has a few allergies. It’s essential he only eats this food...’ Gray opened up one of the many, many drawers in a huge granite and glass kitchen to point at neatly labelled tubs of dog biscuits. ‘Otherwise he gets sick and—well, you don’t want to know what sort of mess that makes.’

Lanie raised an eyebrow as she considered the size of Luther and the fact that every bit of the house she could see was decorated in shades of white and cream. ‘I can imagine.’

Gray met her eyes for a second and one side of his mouth quirked upwards. ‘I’d advise you not to.’

Automatically, she grinned back.

When he smiled, his face was transformed. She wouldn’t say his expression softened—there was something far too angular and intense about Gray—but there was certainly a lightness, a freshness. And a cheeky, intriguing sparkle to his gaze.

Lanie took a step backwards and promptly walked into a tall stainless steel bin. Some sensor contraption obediently flipped the lid open, and the unexpected movement made Lanie jump and bump her hip—hard—against the benchtop.

‘You okay?’ Gray asked.

‘Other than it being far too early in the morning for me to be co-ordinated?’ she replied, raising a pointed eyebrow.

Nicely covered, she thought, giving herself a mental shake. The last thing she needed was another confusing beside-the-taxi or shirt-off moment.

‘Sorry about that,’ he said, not sounding sorry at all. He’d already walked off again, continuing his monologue.