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

She sagged with glorious relief.

“One month to prove that you can keep your mind focused on your duties.”

“You won’t be disappointed, sir.” She resisted the urge to add a military salute.

Her shoulders locked with sudden anxiety as he strode around his desk. Disobeying the instinct to shrink from his approach, she forced herself to stand steady. She took his offered hand and shook it with what she hoped was authoritative firmness. Big and warm, his hand gripped hers for a mere instant.

And in that instant she realized the magnitude of the challenge before her.

An invisible shudder rocked her as his skin touched hers. His dark eyes seemed to see right through her, their piercing gaze penetrating to the core of her being. Everything in her pricked up—ears, hair, goose bumps—agonizingly aware of the dangerously male life force before her.

When she drew her hand back it tingled slightly. Her body flushed with sudden heat that belied the air-conditioned chill of the office. If not for the stiff fabric of her new suit, her newly tightened nipples would be clearly visible.

What on earth?

Chemistry? Sara stepped backward, blinking, afraid of the strange sensations surging through her. How could a man she didn’t know—a man she didn’t like at all—have this kind of effect on her?

Oh, dear.

She cleared her throat, desperate to get control of her errant body and mind and demonstrate the focused professionalism she’d promised.

“Will that be all, sir?” She sounded like a movie character. Right now she needed a script.

She needed to get out of there.

ASAP.

Her boss had turned away to rifle through the mess of papers sprawled over his huge desk.

“Hmph,” he grunted, without looking up. Then he nodded dismissively to the two women. “Thank you.”

Jill Took rose from her chair and bolted for the door. Sara scurried behind her like a startled rabbit.

Outside in the spacious annex that held Sara’s desk, Jill turned to her.

“Sara, what I was saying when you came in, about you being a plain little thing…” Her cheeks turned pink again. “You know I was just trying anything I could think of to get Mr. Al Mansur to change his mind.”

“Of course.” Sara nodded vigorously, wondering why Jill’s cheeks were so pink if she wasn’t fibbing. “And I appreciate you standing up for me. I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t. I hired you, remember?”

Sara laughed a little, glad to release some tension.

Jill lowered her voice. “He’s all right really. It’s just that, well, he’s right, quite honestly. I hired his last two assistants. They appeared to be perfectly capable, suitable employees, very polished and efficient, but they… I don’t know how to explain it. They went gaga over him.” Jill widened her eyes comically.

Sara blinked and swallowed. She’d tasted a sip of gaga and was still tipsy from it.

“I mean, he’s a good-looking guy and all,” Jill continued quietly, with a quick glance at the closed door. “But he has some kind of bizarre effect on women that makes them throw themselves at him in the most embarrassing way. I could tell you weren’t that sort at all.”

Since you’re such a plain little thing.

The unspoken words hung in the air between them. Sara shrank like Alice in Wonderland before the immaculately attired thirty-something blonde in her designer suit and high heels. Apparently Jill was impervious to whatever strange curse of irresistibility hung over the head of poor Elan. Sara felt thoroughly humbled.

“Not at all,” she managed. “I need this job and I mean to keep it.”

“You’ll do great,” Jill said, giving her a reassuring squeeze on the arm.

Sara nodded resolutely. “You bet I will.”

Sue him for reverse age discrimination, would she? Elan raised his eyebrows. That was a first. She obviously knew little about discrimination law, but it stung that she’d thought to accuse him of bias.

He had nothing against female employees. He’d even hire them out in the oil fields if they wanted the work.

But he wanted nothing more to do with simpering maidens who draped themselves across his desk and fluttered their eyelashes over his morning coffee. They exhausted him with their intrigues and flirtations. And none of them could even make a decent cup of coffee. Weak—the coffee and the women.

He looked up at a knock on the door. “Come in.”

Sara entered with a report he’d asked her to prepare and placed the file on his desk.

“Can I get you anything?” Her voice rang in his silent office like a bell. She waited quietly. A strand of pale hair had come loose from her bun and fluttered near her chin, which lifted in a gesture of defiance.

“I could use a cup of coffee.” He cocked his head.

“I don’t know how to make coffee.” She stared at him, her attitude almost insolent. He leaned forward in his chair, struck by her refusal.

“I suspect you have the aptitude to figure it out,” he said slowly. “But never mind. Too much caffeine rattles the nerves.”

He saw a slight smile tug at the corners of her mouth, but she quickly gained control of her features and regarded him once again with a stony expression.

He’d felt the sharp edge of her attitude and he had to admit he liked it. She stood her ground admirably.

She leaned over to replace the cap on a pen lying open on his desk. The loose strand of hair hung momentarily in her eyes and she raised a hand to brush it aside. As she tucked the lock behind her ear she looked up at him, caught off guard, and their eyes met.

A mute challenge.

Suddenly his office seemed uncomfortably warm.

She turned and left without another word. A good sign. She wouldn’t bend his ear with idle chitchat.

He’d give her the chance she asked for. That she’d demanded. He’d seen the fire that flared in her eyes. Eyes the color of rare jade, cool and flecked with gold. Fringed with pale lashes that had blinked in anger as she’d stared him down.

A plain little thing? What an expression. He was amused by the way some people defined beauty in terms of how loudly it shouted at you. For him, true beauty was a quality that shone from within, that brightened and strengthened, like the morning sun rising behind dark mountains. A force that could be dangerous to its beholder.

But Sara’s quiet beauty had no effect on him. He’d grown used to enjoying the more obvious kind of feminine attributes. When in Rome… Fast cars, fast women and the comfort and ease of being alone in his bed at the end of the day.

No ties, no responsibilities, no commitments. Something that would be unheard of, horrifying even, to the people he’d left behind in Oman.

But he had everything he needed here, including freedom from the crippling bonds of traditions that had no place in the modern world.