yes. Your first job can be to reorganise my underwear drawer. I want it colour coded, neatly arranged and segmented for every day of the week.’ His accompanying smirk, casual stance and quirk of an eyebrow left her in little doubt as to the challenge he’d just laid down. He wanted to make her squirm and, strangely enough, the idea of touching his underwear was doing exactly that.
Heat flooded her cheeks, though she bit back a host of retorts that sprang to mind about what he could do with his underwear. ‘Fine.’
‘Oh, while you’re at it, please choose me something to wear today. Under my suit, that is.’
Sam risked a glance over her shoulder. She could have sworn he was laughing at her. However, he stood in the middle of the room, hands clasped over the front of his towel, trying his best to look innocent. She almost snorted at the thought.
Sam stalked across the room, opened the top drawer of the dresser and rummaged around. To her surprise, the first undergarment she laid her hands on was a thong. Leopard print, no less!
Stifling a grin, she hooked it with her index finger and held it out to him. ‘Perhaps this would be suitable for today?’
His jaw dropped. There was no other way to describe it, for she’d never seen a guy with so much poise look so totally and utterly shocked. ‘But that’s not mine!’ he said, a look of distaste marring his handsome features.
‘Oh? It’s in your drawer.’ The corners of her mouth twitched as she struggled to maintain composure.
‘Are you calling me a liar?’ He placed his hands on his hips and glowered as the towel around his waist slipped an inch.
The action distracted her and, for one horrifying yet thrilling moment, she thought it might slide down his legs and pool on the floor, along with what was left of his dignity.
Before she could reply, he hitched the towel up, strode across the room and snatched the offending garment out of her hand. ‘Give me that! Meg’s been up to her tricks again.’
Sam should have known. Meg was probably five-ten, of perfect proportions and had just stepped off the pages of Vogue. ‘One of your conquests?’ she couldn’t resist adding, though what he did in his private life shouldn’t concern her in the slightest. Funny though, it did.
‘My wayward niece,’ he snapped, ‘who takes great delight in tormenting me.’
‘Way to go, Meg,’ she mumbled, thrilled at the thought of any woman getting the better of her suave boss.
‘I beg your pardon?’
Resisting the urge to imitate his plummy tone, Sam schooled her face into what she hoped was a mask of respect. ‘Nothing. Should I get started on my first assignment?’ She pointedly stared at the thong in his hand.
‘Forget it.’ He scrunched and flung it across the room, where it landed neatly in the bin. ‘As of now, your duties will consist of business affairs only. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. Consider this room off-limits.’
Fine with her. The less time she spent around the semi-naked tyrant, the better. In fact, everything about the job had worked in her favour to date and she hoped her luck would hold out.
Fixing a placating smile on her face, she nodded. ‘Certainly. Where would you like me to start?’
He stared at her for an interminable moment, before turning away and heading to the bathroom. ‘Meet me in the study in fifteen minutes. We’ll discuss today’s agenda then.’
Feeling suitably dismissed, she gave a mock salute behind his back and headed for the door.
‘Oh, Samantha. There’s one more thing.’ His commanding tone halted her and she swivelled to face him. ‘Lose the uniform.’
‘Now?’ The response slipped out before she knew it, typical of the feisty banter she was used to exchanging with her brothers’ friends, who were like family. However, Dylan’s response was far from familial.
He strolled across the room and leaned a hand on the door, effectively barring her escape. ‘Since when did the hired help get so provocative?’ His gaze skimmed her face before dropping lower, sending her heart galloping at breakneck speed.
‘Since when did the employer think he could ask questions like that?’ She stilled as he reached towards her and ran a finger down her cheek, sending her nerve endings haywire in the process.
‘Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to answer a question with a question?’ His finger dropped away as it reached her jaw and, strangely, she missed his brief touch.
‘No, but she taught me to stay away from men like you.’ She tilted her chin up, determined not to let him see how he affected her.
‘Men like me?’ He folded his arms, drawing attention to his broad, naked expanse of chest.
Her mouth dried as her gaze strayed to his pecs, noting a light smattering of dark hair that attracted rather than repelled. Swallowing, she looked him in the eyes, hoping her interest didn’t show. ‘You know. Egotistical, over-confident, world-beaters. Used to getting what they want and letting nothing or nobody stand in their way.’
He smiled, the self-satisfied grin of a cat toying with a mouse. ‘Didn’t know I was so transparent. Lucky my butler has a degree in psychology as well as servitude. What other talents are you hiding?’
Sam bit back a host of retorts. Thankfully, her mouth and brain had finally decided to work in sync. ‘None. Now that we’ve got you sorted out, perhaps I should make a start on the rest of that servitude stuff and organise breakfast in the study for our meeting?’ She had to escape and soon. Having her sexy, bare-chested boss standing too close for comfort was doing strange things to her insides. Not to mention addling her brain.
The warmth drained from his face in an instant and she wondered at the abrupt change. ‘Fine. See you there.’
He opened the door and she brushed past him on her way out, wishing he didn’t look and smell so darn good. Just her luck that her new boss would be thirty-something and gorgeous rather than ancient and decrepit like most of the rich landowners in Australia.
‘One more thing, Samantha.’ His serious tone stopped her.
‘Yes?’ She turned to see him framed in the doorway, looking every bit the consummate millionaire, even without clothes.
‘Welcome to the Harmon world.’
Before she could respond he closed the door, leaving her with a distinct feeling that while he’d welcomed her to his world, he’d just turned hers upside down.
Dylan stalked into his mother’s sitting room after a brief knock on the door.
Liz Harmon looked up from the newspaper she had spread across the table. ‘Good morning, darling. Sleep well?’
With a perfunctory nod, he sat opposite her. ‘I met the butler.’
His mother’s face lit up. ‘Isn’t Sam wonderful? She came highly recommended.’
‘From where? Butlers-R-Us?’
