much for obeying orders.’
Sam jumped as Dylan’s voice interrupted her musings and she whirled to face him. ‘I’m here on time, I’ve kept out of your bedroom and breakfast is waiting.’ She gestured to the sideboard. ‘What else did you want?’
He strode across the room and helped himself to a piece of toast and a cup of coffee before sitting behind a large mahogany desk. ‘I thought I told you to lose that uniform.’
She frowned, as memories of their intense exchange in his bedroom flooded back. ‘I don’t think we agreed on that.’
‘You’re right. We didn’t get to finish that conversation, did we?’ He stared at her over the rim of his cup and she could have sworn she read desire in his eyes.
Great. Despite her mental pep talk a few minutes earlier she still harboured ridiculous fantasies where her spunky boss was concerned. He could have any woman in the world and she thought she’d captured his interest in half an hour? Yeah, right.
‘I thought all your staff wore uniforms.’ She tried her best to look demure, clasping her hands behind her back. How she’d last more than a week in this subservient act, she’d never know. For some strange reason this man brought out the worst in her. She felt compelled to trade quips with him, to ruffle his oh-so-suave feathers, to get the better of him in any exchange.
He placed his cup on the desk and rested steepled fingers on his chest. ‘Not my personal assistant.’
‘I’m your butler, not your PA.’ Somehow, the title of PA conjured all sorts of vivid images of how personal she could get with the delectable Dylan.
‘You’ve just been promoted. If you’re up to it, that is.’
He’d done it again, known exactly how to push her buttons. As if she would ever back down from any challenge he threw at her.
‘So you’re that impressed with me, huh?’
He shook his head. ‘No need to fish for compliments, Samantha. I’ve read your résumé and I’m intrigued. Why would a woman with a degree in economics want to work as a butler? And, even better, work for a man with a reputation for being a hard taskmaster?’
She squared her shoulders and hoped that the little white lies she had to tell to keep this job wouldn’t show on her face. ‘I enjoy a challenge. Working for someone with your vast experience in the business world will be a bonus, if and when I decide to enter that field.’ She hoped her answer would satisfy his curiosity—when in doubt, flatter.
He quirked an eyebrow. ‘You’re not some kind of spy, are you?’
Sam sighed. ‘Your mother checked out my credentials and I’m sure you’ve discussed my appointment with her by now. What do you think?’
‘I think that if you’re half as good as your résumé says you are, you’d be perfect as my PA. So, what do you say?’
Okay, she wasn’t completely stupid. Being Dylan’s personal assistant would be a heck of a lot more interesting than bowing and scraping to him and a lot less damaging. After all, she had a lot less chance of seeing him almost naked as his PA than as his butler. ‘I accept. Thanks for the opportunity.’
He nodded his approval. ‘Good. Now that’s settled, let’s get started. I need to dictate some letters that need to be sent ASAP. While I do that, you can sort through this pile of invoices. In monthly and alphabetical order please, with the most urgent bills to be paid uppermost.’
She took the pile and seated herself opposite him, thankful for the huge desk. No chance of accidental contact across a great divide of mahogany, though there’d been nothing accidental about the way he’d caressed her cheek earlier that morning. Though she tried to concentrate on the task at hand, she couldn’t resist sneaking a peek as he spoke into a Dictaphone, his low tones soothing her. He’d dressed in the outfit she’d predicted earlier, though it looked a heck of a lot better on the man than on a hanger.
Visions of their morning interlude drifted into her mind and, before she knew it, she’d mentally undressed him down to the skimpy towel he’d worn as he’d strolled into his bedroom looking a million dollars. How she’d managed to maintain composure, she’d never know. At least those boring drama classes at high school had been good for something. Old Mrs Lincoln would have been proud of her You don’t affect me one bit performance she’d given Dylan that morning.
At that moment, the man in question hit the ‘stop’ button and looked up.
‘Having trouble keeping up?’ He pointedly stared at the pile of invoices in front of her and raised an eyebrow.
Fighting a losing battle with a rising heat that flooded her cheeks, she shook her head. ‘Sorry. I was just thinking.’ Lame, even by her standards, but what could she do when the object of her lustful fantasy was glaring at her with those dark eyes that screamed, Come and get me?
‘About what? Some old boyfriend you’ve left behind in Sydney?’
‘I’m not from Sydney.’ She responded without thinking and, predictably, he pounced on her answer.
‘But I thought you’d been working for the Larkins?’ His stare intensified, leaving her squirming like a bug under a ten-year-old’s magnifying glass in the sun.
Crossing her fingers behind her back, she hoped her voice remained steady. ‘I was, but I’m from Brisbane originally.’
‘Ah.’ Before she could breathe a sigh of relief, he continued, ‘So, what about the boyfriend?’
For a moment, she hoped he was asking out of interest in her as an available woman, before reality set in. The likes of Dylan Harmon would never be interested in the hired help, unless it was for one thing. And she had no intention of making that bed or lying in it.
‘You’re my boss, not my owner. My private life is none of your business.’ She folded her arms in a purely defensive gesture, wishing she could ignore that probing stare. Unfortunately, her action drew his stare downwards before he quickly returned his gaze to her face.
‘That’s where you’re wrong. You’ll be spending a lot of time travelling between our outback property and Melbourne, with little time off for socialising. I need to know that you’re one hundred per cent committed to this job. Otherwise, I’ll find someone else.’ He picked up a pen and tapped it against the desk, as though impatiently awaiting her answer.
Though it went against the grain, she had to tell him about her private life—or lack of one. She needed this job and she hadn’t come this far to lose it now. ‘There’s no one special in my life at the moment. You’ll have my entire focus for the time I’m employed.’
His face softened at her response. ‘Good. I need all your attention…for the tasks at hand.’
His pause, combined with the subtle change in body language as he leaned towards her, sent her imagination spiralling out of control again. She stared at him, caught in the hypnotic intensity of his smouldering eyes, wanting to look away yet powerless to do so. If she didn’t know better, she could have sworn that he felt the bizarre attraction she’d conjured up out of thin air too.
‘Are you free tonight?’
She
