Her Millionaire Boss

By: Jennie Adams

‘I’d like to see that.’ The back of Chrissy’s neck still tingled. For once she wished she had her hair down, to protect the vulnerable skin at her nape. Since she didn’t, she took the coward’s way out and increased her pace to put some distance between them.

Nate cleared his throat, then launched into further speech. ‘I realise you must be exhausted. I’d like to let you go home to sleep, but I could use your help today at the office. Can you manage?’

His thoughtfulness took her unawares. He wasn’t supposed to be nice, not even some of the time. She had been so certain he wouldn’t be.

‘My sisters sat with Henry earlier while I went home to shower and change. I can manage my work day.’

‘Thanks.’ His gaze roamed her face. The secrets in the depths of his eyes made her skin heat and her heart flutter. Had he just visualised her in that shower?

Why would a man of the world like Nate Barrett harbour more than a momentary interest in her?

He blinked, and whatever she had seen disappeared behind a wall of determined resolve. ‘I’d like to address a couple of issues before we arrive at work.’

See? Banished from his thoughts just like that. Why couldn’t she do likewise about him?

Then she noted the aggressive tone of his voice. Her instincts prickled and she unconsciously straightened her spine. ‘What issues?’

‘If you’re a power tripper,’ he growled, ‘if you intend to be difficult while I’m in charge of things—’

‘I am certainly not a power tripper.’ Had he really thought that? Put the shoe on your own foot, bozo! If anyone gave off the attitude of demanding to be in control, it was Nate.

She, on the other hand, aside from the tiny problem of not being able to ignore his effect on her, was at peace with herself. She didn’t need to prove anything. To him or to anyone else. Her personal dragons had been slain, thank you very much.

Dragon-slaying aside, you don’t want this man to hang around for weeks, getting underfoot and disturbing your peace. That doesn’t make you controlling. It just makes you smart.

‘I simply see no need for you to take over the running of the business when I can handle things myself while Henry gets better.’

‘What experience do you have? What are your credentials? What training do you have in high-level management?’ He fired the questions at her with the accuracy of a paint-ball champion. They hit and spread as quickly, undermining her shaky resolve. ‘What if Henry’s recovery takes months? What if it never happens?’

‘He will get better. Totally better.’ Henry was talking already. Surely that boded well for the future? ‘As for the rest, I’ve worked closely enough with Henry that I know—’

‘Watching isn’t the same as doing.’ His expression hardened, demanded that she accept his words. ‘It’s not enough. Not in the longer term.’

‘For a week or two—’

‘It’ll be longer. You saw how he looked.’

She wanted to argue, but he was right, darn him. Still, accepting that fact didn’t come easily. ‘OK, so suppose you’re right and his complete recovery takes longer. What happens?’

‘I take care of things. It’s what I told him back there, and I meant it.’ His words brushed off her concerns like unwanted lint on his pristine suit. ‘You’ll co-operate with me? While I straighten things out here?’

‘I’m surprised you’re willing to stay indefinitely, but, provided your actions are in the best interests of the company, I’ll do my best to support you.’

Who knew, she thought madly, maybe Nate would find a way to breathe new life into the company? Lately, she had begun to wonder if everything was OK. It was just a feeling, but—

‘I didn’t say I would be…’ He left the thought unfinished. ‘You said in your message that you were with Henry when the stroke happened. Do you usually work weekends?’

‘It was a social outing.’ She still felt guilty that her boss had been rambling through the treasure trove of Melbourne’s retail side-streets with her when the stroke happened.

A pause. Then a rapped-out, ‘Doing what?’

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