Bedded By The Boss: The Boss's Demand / Something about the Boss... / Beguiling the Boss

She hadn’t even managed a polite greeting.

Her pulse pounded in her temple as she dragged herself to her feet. She picked up a big stack of papers and a long series of messages she’d collected. There was nothing for it but to go in. Might as well get it over with.

She hesitated, held up her trembling fist for a moment before rapping on the door. Should she say anything about what had happened? Attempt a preemptive apology? She’d have to play it by ear. Ears almost deafened by the blood thundering in her head.

She knocked.

“Come in.”

The door swung open to reveal Elan seated in his leather throne. He looked up as if startled, though he must have known it would be her. He sprang to his feet and ran a broad hand through his hair.

“Sara.”

She gulped. “Yes.”

He looked right at her and she froze, turned to stone. His eyes were narrowed in a penetrating gaze, black and shadowed, his face taut, jaw clenched.

“I feel I must offer my most humble apologies for the events of last week.”

Her gut seized and she held her breath.

“You are a valued employee here. I think it’s best if we do not mention those events again.”

Thoughts rushed her brain and swept around in minicyclones—he isn’t firing me.

He wanted to forget their night together.

The rush of relief at getting to keep her job was undercut by a harsh stab of humiliating disappointment. Had she really expected to continue some kind of intimate relationship with Elan? Even after he disappeared for days, fled to the other side of the world to avoid her?

The ache in her heart told her she had.

“Yes,” she whispered. Her voice emerged as a hiss of steam released from an overheated radiator, but she was relieved she could find it at all. “Thank you.”

She could almost swear she saw him flinch as she said “thank you.” Was he disgusted that she didn’t resign on principle? Someone wealthy like him probably couldn’t understand how you could need a job more than your pride.

He nodded curtly. She cleared her throat and attempted to give him his messages in as normal a voice as possible.

He listened politely and responded appropriately, but as she talked she could see him looking almost anywhere but at her. A muscle worked in his jaw and his shoulders were rigid with tension. His discomfort in her presence was obvious.

And he had good reason to be uncomfortable. Because even as she spoke, her mind wandered. Wondered. Remembered the feel of his hands on her. Remembered the scent of him as she buried her face in his neck. Remembered the sweet, soothing warmth of being held tightly in his arms.

He studied a document, following the lines with his finger. The finger that had traced a line from her chin, to her belly button, to her agonizingly aroused… She blinked and swallowed hard, trying to shove down the disturbing sensations creeping through her body.

What was it about this man that made her professional demeanor fly out the window? That unhinged her almost to the point of madness?

She tore her eyes from him and tried to focus on the papers on his desk, on the spectacular expanse of clear sky visible through the window, on the spotless gray carpet. But each time her attention drifted back, in imperceptible degrees, to the man who consumed it.

To the way his hair was starting to touch his collar slightly in the back, in need of a cut. To the powerful tanned wrists revealed by the turned-back cuffs of his white shirt. To the way his tie was loosened slightly, accommodating one opened button at the neck of his shirt. Elan always looked a little too confined in clothes, as if he’d like to peel them off and get comfortable.

Or was it just her that wanted to peel them off? The thought made her anything but comfortable. She closed her eyes, attempting to block the sight of him from her vision. To block the image of him from her mind. But his midnight gaze was burned into her retinas.

“Are you…all right?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice rather too high-pitched. He might well ask. He’d caught her standing in his office with her eyes closed. Was she all right? Most definitely not. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever be all right again. “Will that be all?” She managed to plaster on a thin veneer of professionalism, even as she started automatically backing toward the doorway.

“Yes, thank you.” Elan had turned away from her and bent over his desk, opening a drawer. She could see his biceps flexed tightly under the cotton of his shirt, his fists almost clenched. The tension in the air was suffocating, a cloying atmosphere of regret and recrimination that tormented them both.

What on earth had she been thinking when she touched Elan, when she kissed him, when she…

She turned on her heel and flew out the door. She accidentally slammed it in her haste to escape. Outside, she gasped a deep gulp of air and bent double as blood rushed to her head.

The only way she could survive this was to pretend it had never happened. To avoid thinking about it. It. The elusive it that sprang only too readily to the forefront of her consciousness. A night against which all other nights would inevitably be measured for the rest of her life.

Six (#ulink_f68eb59a-067f-52f8-9e64-b32ac0d92a37)

“We’d be delighted to do business with you. Thank you so much for coming.” Sara shook the last cool hand of the venture capitalist team from New York. She ushered them out of the conference room, professional smile fixed in place.

As the tall mahogany door closed behind them she collapsed into a chair, shaking.

A six-hour meeting. With the CEO, CFO, new business strategist and two administrative staff.

By herself.

“I’m sure you can handle the details,” Elan had said, when he announced he had other plans that morning.

Anderson Capital, which planned to invest in small “wildcat” oil-drilling firms and employ El Mansur Associates’ technology and expertise to make them more profitable, had the potential to bring millions of dollars of annual revenue to the company. And Elan had handed her the account, to win or lose, all on her own.

He wanted her to fail.

He wanted her to admit defeat. Quit. Leave.

And he wanted that so badly that he didn’t mind risking an important account to do it.

She’d already failed once. She’d betrayed his trust, broken her promise that she would not overstep the bounds of her job. This time she was determined not to fail.

Every day her mountain of responsibilities increased. The challenges Elan tossed in her direction grew more complex and demanding. She hadn’t slept more than three hours a night lately as she needed every single minute to prepare for the onslaught of meetings, reports and presentations that were now her responsibility in addition to her administrative duties.

Her cell phone vibrated—again—and she thought of the work that must be piling up on her desk right this minute.

She took a deep breath. “Hello.”

“Please come to my office.” Elan.

A flash of anger warred with the heat his deep voice conjured as it curled into her ear. “I’ll be right there.” How could he push her this hard?

She hung up the phone, gathered her papers, and shoved out into the hallway.

This is what she wanted, right? A challenging, highly paid position in the exact field of her expertise. Of course she’d never dreamed she’d be performing duties more suited to a senior vice president than to an executive assistant and project manager. She had Elan to thank for that, though thanks was really the last thing on her mind right now.