Hired: The Sheikh's Secretary Mistress. Lucy Monroe
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Rather, her expression became carefully neutral as she turned away. “I’ll make a note of it.”
As she left to retrieve her electronic diary and briefcase, Amir castigated himself for coming so close to disaster. What was he thinking? Why had he hugged her when he was on such a sexual edge? Others might look at his no-nonsense assistant and think she was anything but seductive. Amir knew better. He knew just how dangerous the sweet innocent was.
And for that reason alone, he deserved the painful erection in his trousers and the sexual frustration he would be feeling long after it subsided. He knew better than to do something so stupid as to hug her.
If he had kissed Grace, it would have led inevitably to bedding her.
And then losing her.
She was too valuable a PA and friend to do something that idiotic.
This whole marriage thing needed to happen quickly.
Grace tried not to stare at Amir as he spoke to the software developer about investing in the man’s company. It was harder than it usually was. For one thing, she’d done her research. This was a good deal only a fool would pass up and her boss was anything but a fool. But for another, she kept getting sidetracked by the way his designer sport-coat fit his muscular body. Which, for whatever weird associative reason, kept taking her mind back to what had happened earlier in the hotel room.
The problem was, she still wasn’t sure what had happened.
Had he almost kissed her? It had certainly seemed like it. He’d definitely held her longer than your average hug between employer and employee. Did other employers hug their personal assistants? Certainly, Amir did not do so often. The last time had been her birthday two years ago. Why had he hugged her? At first she’d thought he was saying thank-you for agreeing to help him, but did a thank-you hug last that long? Did the hug fall under their “friendship?”
And if so, why do it now? Why not before he’d asked her to find another woman for him to marry?
But what she really wanted to know, thought she might die if she didn’t figure out was: had he almost kissed her?
Was the hardness against her stomach a figment of her imagination or irrefutable proof that as impossible as it might seem, she turned him on? Or was she sliding into mad dreams again that were going to leave her crushed in their wake as any other she had woven around her too captivating employer? He’d pushed her away with further requirements about his future wife. Perhaps he had only held Grace that long to test the theory that he would prefer a tall woman. Most of the women he dated were at least two inches shorter than Grace’s five foot nine.
How incredibly demoralizing if that was indeed the case. Then, what could be more lowering than to be asked by the man you were crazy in love with to help him find his future bride?
“Grace?”
Her head snapped up at the impatient tone in Amir’s voice. Both men were looking at her.
“Did you get that?”
Heat climbing into her cheeks, she had to admit she hadn’t and asked the other man to repeat himself. That was so unlike her efficient self, she knew she’d hear about it later from the sheikh. Jerry, the software developer, was awfully nice about it, smiling at her and asking very politely if she’d gotten it all the second time around. She found herself relaxing under his kindness and responded a bit more warmly than was her usual wont. She had a feeling they were going to end up being friends. She was sure she would have lots of opportunities to interact with him as she would be the liaison to Amir.
“It’s too bad you are headquartered here,” she said without thought.
“Or that the sheikh’s office isn’t here,” Jerry said without missing a beat.
“I do not see either as a tragedy.” Amir’s tone was frosty and Grace had to stifle a sigh.
She smiled apologetically at Jerry. “He’s still angry I wasn’t paying attention just now.”
“He does not appreciate being spoken about as if he were not sitting right beside you.”
“My apologies.” Jerry looked worried, so Grace did not say what was on the tip of her tongue.
In fact, she didn’t say anything.
A few minutes later, when Jerry and Amir were making plans to share dinner and a drink to celebrate the deal, he asked if Grace would be joining them. Before she could get a word in edgewise, Amir said she had things to work on and wouldn’t be able to.
She couldn’t believe his effrontery and was ready to blast him the minute they got to the privacy of their suite, but Jerry had already dealt with enough of her boss’s crankiness.
As soon as the door shut, she whirled on him. “What exactly is so pressing that I’m supposed to be skipping dinner to work on it?”
He glared at her. “You have agreed to find me a wife. Have you forgotten already?”
“I’m not headed toward dementia yet, though goodness knows working with you will send me there early.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I find it beyond rude that you turned down a dinner invitation on my behalf simply because you think I should spend my off-hours working on your pet project.”
“You’ve never minded putting in overtime before.”
“You’ve never dictated when it should happen, and for your information, I had no intention of starting the great wife hunt tonight.”
“Are you saying you want to have dinner with Jerry?”
“I thought that was obvious.”
“Maybe I should just stay here and let the two of you make a night out on the town of it.”
Had he lost his mind? “What in the world are you talking about?”
“You and Jerry. You appear to have gotten quite chummy.”
“You’re basing this on the fact I wanted to eat dinner with you?”
“You were flirting with him.”
“I never flirt.” She had no idea how.
“You smiled.”
“And that is a crime now? You were smiling, too.”
“I most assuredly was not flirting.”
She took a deep breath and tried another tack. “Name the last business dinner I did not accompany you to.”
“Last month, when I had dinner with Sandor Christofides regarding using his ships for importation of certain goods to Zorha.”
This was getting beyond ridiculous. “I was in Seattle setting up for your arrival at the business