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

She wiped until his finger was clean, but she was reluctant to let go. Touching Elan was a sweet thrill she wanted to prolong. She dabbed at his skin again as the fingers of her other hand curved under his to support the firm flesh of his palm.

Stop it, Sara! You’re playing with fire. Flammable liquids and flammable emotions are not a good combination.

She pulled her hands away and threw the tissues into the wastebasket. Elan remained silent and she sneaked a glance at him. He watched her with an odd expression in his dark eyes.

“I’ll read your speech at my desk,” she said, gathering the scattered papers. He nodded. She hurried out of the room and closed the door softly behind her, her heart hammering and her mind whirling.

Wanting Elan was taboo. Touching him forbidden. He was unavailable, off-limits. They had a contract, clearly stated. So why was it so easy to imagine his warm breath on her throat, the pressure of his palms on the curve of her waist?

She had a career to build and she wanted to take on more responsibilities. She wanted more influence in the company, and she knew it was hers for the taking.

And she wanted Elan.

The two impulses were opposing, one canceled out the other. To act on her feelings for her boss would be to end her career at this company. That had been made perfectly plain to her on her first day at the job.

She was still on trial.

One week down, three to go.

“What on earth is this?” Elan looked at her, one eyebrow raised in astonishment as he surveyed the expensive new black leather bump on his chair.

“A lumbar support cushion. It helps to keep your back in a comfortable position. I notice you stretch your spine a lot and I thought this might help prevent it getting kinked up in the first place.”

Because frankly, I can’t watch you stretch and flex like that even one more time and keep the last shreds of my tattered sanity.

He reached out and prodded it with his long, powerful fingers as if it might have a life of its own. “Hmph.”

“It’s on trial. It goes back if you don’t like it. I didn’t file the expense report yet.” She turned and took the watering can to the row of shiny, dark green plants she’d bought to soften the austere atmosphere of his office.

She hadn’t expected him to be thrilled. Surprise and confusion were the emotions she seemed to conjure in Elan with her little extracurricular gestures, though he did a fair job of hiding it.

Maybe she was trying too hard. She’d spent half her Saturday at the gadget store looking at products designed to ease executive stress. She had other ideas for things he might like, but she didn’t want to overdo it.

She heard him settle into the leather chair and couldn’t resist turning around to catch his reaction. She was annoyed to find herself pathetically hoping to see him smile. He approached the day with grim determination that only tickled her irrational instinct to say or do something totally inappropriate—so she could watch his stony facade crack and catch a glimpse of what lay beneath.

Not so smart. That wasn’t what she was here for.

Turned, she saw him sitting uncomfortably in the newly altered chair, brows arched, eyes fixed on her feet.

Uh-oh, no shoes. “Sorry, my shoes were killing me. I’ll go put them on.”

Elan cleared his throat. “There’s no need. It’s the end of the day and only you and I are here. You may dress as you wish.”

She mentally spanked herself for finding even the most innocent words suggestive when they emerged from Elan’s wide, sensual mouth. “Thanks.” She forced a polite smile to her lips.

He shifted in the chair as if negotiating a large pea under his mattress.

“You hate it, don’t you?”

“I don’t hate it, I’m merely unaccustomed to it.” He sat up straight and squared his broad shoulders against the chair in a way that made Sara’s stomach quiver.

She wrenched her eyes back to the plants and poured water onto the decorative gravel she’d used to cover the soil. The glossy leaves brought life to the room. It was almost cheerful now, especially since she’d convinced him to let her move in a couple of stunning abstract paintings that had languished in a little-used conference room.

“Sara.”

Her breath caught—as always—at the sound of her name in his low, husky voice. “Yes?” She continued watering, resisting the urge to turn and look at him.

“It’s not your job to water plants in my office, or to make my chair more comfortable.” The odd tone of his voice made her look up.

“I know, I just…” She didn’t really know exactly what she was doing. Going the extra mile or something.

“Just as I don’t expect you to make my coffee, I don’t expect you to concern yourself with such trivialities. It’s late and you have a home to go to.”

She flinched at the stab of pain she felt at his rejection of her efforts. She had only herself to blame. He hadn’t asked for any of it.

“I’m sorry. I guess I’m annoying you with all this…stuff.” She gestured around the room at the paintings, the plants, the new coffee machine for the viciously strong coffee he brewed. Her heart sank a little. Okay, so she was overdoing it.

“On the contrary. You’ve made my office very pleasant.” He said it quietly, gave her an unexpected, cautious look that squeezed her heart a little.

“To be honest, I enjoy this sort of stuff, you know, cheering things up.” She hugged the watering can to her chest. “I have a lot of time on my hands when I’m not here. I’m not used to being on my own. I have a big family back home—four sisters and three brothers.” The words tumbled out and the pitch of her voice rose. “My mom was sick for a long time and I took care of her. I’m used to being busy, looking after things, looking after people, you know. I’m not used to going home all alone, I…”

Shut up Sara!

What on earth was she doing running off at the mouth about how pathetically lonely she’d been lately? That wasn’t his problem. It had been her decision to move here. To cook for one. To have conversations with herself over the tiny counter in her kitchen. To move the furniture around in her cramped apartment because she had nothing better to do.

To harass her boss with misplaced nurturing instincts. She felt a flush creep above her blouse as she realized what she’d been doing.

His body motionless, Elan spoke softly. “I appreciate the trouble you’ve taken. It’s a gift to understand the needs of others without being asked.” He held her gaze, a guarded expression shadowing his hard features. “Your thoughtfulness is a complement to your excellent work.”

She blinked and bit her lip as a rush of emotion sprang from something raw inside her. His devastating seriousness and the gravity of such a huge compliment—his first—nearly unhinged her. The urge to cry warred with the urge to explode into raucous laughter.

“Thank you,” she managed.

He immediately turned away and began sorting through some papers. Had his dark complexion darkened yet further? She dismissed the thought. He cleared his throat and loosened his necktie with a long finger.

She inhaled a deep breath and accidentally splashed herself with water from the can as she wheeled around to face the door.

“Good night,” she muttered as she hustled toward it, feet silent on the carpet.

“Good night, Sara.” Low and slightly strangled, as if his tie was still too tight, his words followed her out to her desk, down in the elevator, across the parking lot and home to her silent apartment.

Elan leaned back in his chair and watched as Sara gave a sales pitch to potential clients from Canada. Her trial month was nearly up and she’d proved beyond a shadow of a doubt she was more than worthy of her position.

“As I’ve demonstrated, our technology is capable of reducing the amount of sediment in the crude oil to well below the required level. The new techniques we have developed allow previously unprofitable fields to be exploited productively. We provide a complete package of services, from drilling to refining, that allow our customers to take advantage of cutting-edge technology and expertise without investing in their own infrastructure.”

Her sharp mind and talent for incisive analysis impressed him. They were intriguingly at odds with a soft, warm side of her that caught him off guard with caring gestures. For someone so young she seemed unusually wise, her intelligence matched and even outmeasured by a natural compassion that rather awed him. And those little flashes of humor she surprised him with, well…

The late-afternoon sun shone through the window, glazing her delicate features with gold and sparking fiery highlights in her hair. Her hair looked so soft. He wondered how it would feel between his fingers, under his palms as he cupped her head, tipping it back to claim her mouth in a kiss.