cosiest one set in the furthest corner of the room and shielded from prying eyes by an exquisite hand-painted Japanese screen.
‘Great,’ she muttered under her breath, knowing that spending an evening dining with her handsome new boss had just taken on a whole new meaning—in her own head.
To make matters worse, Darcy stood up as she neared the table and her heart did that weird, somersault thing it had when they first met at the café. It had nothing to do with his clothes; he’d gone for the conservative look once again with a dark designer suit, white shirt and striped tie. However, the man inside the clothes exuded some powerful brand of pheromones that called to her; she hadn’t experienced such a strong attraction in ages—if she was completely honest, probably never.
He pulled her seat out for her, a quaint, old-fashioned gesture that made her feel ultra-feminine. ‘You look beautiful,’ he murmured close to her ear as she sat down, raising her pulse another notch.
‘Thanks.’ To her annoyance, she felt heat creeping up her neck towards her cheeks. What was wrong with her? She never blushed, especially not when men paid her compliments.
‘So you decided to go with cocktail attire, huh?’
‘When in doubt, stick with the LBD.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘LBD?’
Was he kidding? Surely he couldn’t be that old?
Fleur grinned, a knowing smile that put her back on the front foot again and restored her confidence no end. ‘Little black dress. The essential of every female’s wardrobe.’
‘Ah,’ he said and nodded, as if he knew exactly what she was referring to, though by the confused look on his face, he had no idea.
‘I thought a man like you would be used to dining with a host of women in LBDs,’ she teased, hoping to lighten the mood.
‘No time.’ He gestured to a waiter hovering nearby and placed an order for champagne—of the French kind.
Something about his assumption that she drank expensive champagne or should be impressed by it grated on her nerves before she reminded herself of the purpose of the night. ‘Tell me about your company. I don’t even know what you import,’ she said.
‘Gift ware, mostly.’
‘There’s a huge market for that type of product. Why isn’t the company turning a profit?’
He shook his head. ‘If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t need to hire you.’
Her eyebrows shot heavenward at his bitter tone.
‘What I meant to say was my staff aren’t as productive as they once were. Everyone seems to be infected with this strange kind of lethargy and, despite our trying a few things, nothing has shaken them out of it.’
Fleur remembered the receptionist and her cavalier attitude and knew exactly what he referred to.
‘They used to have fun when they came to work but not any more.’
Suddenly, an image of Darcy’s stodgy office popped into her mind. ‘Do you have fun at work?’
He stared at her as if she’d spoken in some foreign language. ‘What do you mean?’
She sipped at her recently filled flute and savoured the tingle of bubbles sliding down her throat. ‘You know, the F word that people are scared to acknowledge at work. Is your work fun?’
‘Work is work. If I wanted to have fun, I’d employ a bunch of clowns.’
‘Well, maybe that’s what you need to do.’
He rubbed the bridge of his nose while she sipped at her champagne, as if what she’d said pained him. ‘Are you out of your mind?’
She sat up, suddenly businesslike. ‘No, but I’d like to plant some ideas in yours.’
She took a deep breath and hoped her new boss was ready to hear the truth. ‘OK, listen up. First impressions of your company are, quite frankly, that it’s tame, bland and boring. From the reception area to the furniture, I think you need a major overhaul. Urgently.’
Rather than appearing angry, he leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. ‘So, you think I’m boring?’
‘I was referring to your company.’ For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out which demon prompted her to add, ‘I don’t know enough about you yet to make that sort of judgement call.’
He ignored her jibe. ‘Tell me more.’
‘Most employees need to feel valued but, more importantly, they need to care enough about their job to want to excel at it.’ She paused to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, wondering if she had the courage to say exactly what she thought the problem was. ‘From first impressions, I don’t think your staff feel that way.’
‘Why?’ A frown creased his brow, adding five years onto his age and reinforcing what she was about to say.
She took several unladylike gulps of champagne, needing every ounce of fortitude she could muster. ‘Bottom line? They’re taking their cue from you.’
His frown deepened and she resisted the impulse to sink into her chair—or, better yet, slide under the table and slink out of the fancy restaurant. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
She exhaled, unaware she’d been holding her breath. ‘Well, you seem to be a bit stuck yourself.’
‘Stuck?’ His eyebrows shot upward and, if she wasn’t treading on such delicate ground, she would’ve laughed at his comical expression.
Crossing her fingers beneath the tablecloth, she continued and hoped to God she still had a job by the end of this. ‘You intimidate people. The way you look, the way you dress, how you carry yourself, all screams “unapproachable”. And if you don’t enjoy your work, how do you expect your staff to?’
She waited for the explosion. Heck, she would’ve given him a verbal spray if he’d had the audacity to tell her all that to her face after only one meeting. Instead, he leaned back, folded his arms and fixed her with a glare.
‘I can see where that psychology degree comes in handy. Now that you’ve analysed me and the company, how do you propose to sort the problem out?’
She quelled the nervous flutter within her gut. Whenever he looked at her like that, she couldn’t think straight. Something about the deep blue of his eyes had her focusing on all the wrong cues, starting with how she could lose herself in their depths.
‘That’s easy.’ She managed a smile, hoping it didn’t look more like a grimace. ‘We start at the top and work our way down.’
‘Now, that sounds like an interesting proposition.’ His eyes brightened with an almost imperceptible gleam which she recognised as interest and her heart thudded in response. For someone who appeared stuffy at first glance, he sure knew how to turn innocent words into innuendo.
‘I’d prefer to think of it as challenging. After all, you
