like a family tree and tracing a line with her finger. ‘You must be Princess Samantha Popov. Am I correct?’ She looked up expectantly, not a trace of anger on her face.
Sam didn’t know where to look, an embarrassed heat flooding her cheeks. She’d been caught out in her lie and on the first day! She nodded, not quite understanding the excited look on the other woman’s face. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry for lying to you but I really needed this job.’ She stood quickly, wishing the Persian rug beneath her feet would disappear and the ground underneath would open up and swallow her. ‘I’ll pack my things and be out of your way as soon as possible.’
Liz slammed the book shut, sending a cloud of dust into the air. ‘Don’t be hasty, child. We have so much to talk about.’
Sam shook her head in bewilderment. If Liz had appeared excited a moment ago, she now looked downright ecstatic. ‘I don’t understand. You want me to stay?’
Liz waved her back to the chair she’d just vacated. ‘Of course. I’m sure you had a very good reason for lying to obtain this job and I want to hear it. I also want to hear every last detail of your story, without a single omission.’
‘So, I’m not fired?’ Sam held her breath, praying for a miracle yet knowing they rarely happened, at least to her.
‘Fired? My dear, you’ve just made my day.’
‘How so?’
Liz grinned, the expression on her face rivalling that of a child on Christmas Day. ‘If my son thought finding an attractive woman as his butler was a surprise, wait till he finds out I chose him a princess to boot!’
Sam’s heart plummeted. If Dylan found out her background she’d be out of the Harmon mansion so fast her head would spin. She needed to stay, at least till the trial three months were up. Anything less and her family wouldn’t be convinced she could make it on her own and she’d be back to square one, enduring their rigid conditions and stipulations regarding her life.
Right now, she needed to convince Liz Harmon that keeping her identity a secret was the best thing for all concerned, even if it meant keeping it from her precious son. Taking a steadying breath, she looked up and met the older lady’s gaze directly. Seeing the twinkle in her eye, she hoped to God that Liz wanted in on the secret, otherwise she’d be back in Brisbane and pledged to some ancient groom before she could blink.
Tied to some fossil in matrimony because it suited her royal parents and their antiquated ideas? Uh-uh.
Liz leaned forward. ‘Start at the beginning, dear. And tell me everything.’
Resisting the urge to grimace, Sam did as she was told.
CHAPTER THREE
SAM hated confusion. She preferred order, precision and being in control. However, as she joined Dylan for a late night supper in his study so they could continue working, she knew that her preferences had flown straight out the window following her meeting with his mother. Rather than berating her for lying and sacking her, as she’d expected, Liz Harmon had almost clapped her hands in glee as Sam regaled her with a truthful account of her life to date. In fact, the older woman had been only too pleased to keep Sam’s secret so she could continue in her farcical role as Dylan’s PA.
But why? Sam needed to know people’s motivations; it was the only way to stay one step ahead. However, she had no intention of giving Liz Harmon the third degree when the woman had done her a huge favour. In fact, for someone who barely knew her, Liz had accepted her version of events with few qualms. In her place, Sam knew she wouldn’t have been as trusting.
‘Daydreaming again?’
Sam jumped as Dylan strode into the room and wondered if she’d ever get over the fluttery feeling in her gut whenever her boss came within ten feet of her. In over a week, her absurd physical reaction to the man hadn’t dimmed one iota. If anything, her responses made her want to do all sorts of wild and wicked things, such as strip off and lay across his desk! Maybe then she’d have some hope of grabbing his attention, for that was all he seemed interested in—the endless stream of paperwork crossing his desk, taking up every minute of his day.
She must have imagined his flirtation and innuendo on her first day, for he’d lived up to his reputation as a cold, calculating business tycoon ever since. In fact, his love for the family business bordered on obsession and she wondered if he ever loosened his tie, took off his shoes and took a stroll barefoot in the lush gardens surrounding the mansion. By the serious look on his face as he glared at her, she doubted it.
‘Daydreaming is healthy. You should try it some time.’ She noted the tense neck muscles, the lines around his mouth, the smidgen of dark rings under his eyes and hoped that her banter might lighten his mood.
He piled a plate with club sandwiches and grabbed a caffeine-laden soft drink from the sideboard before responding. ‘Who says I don’t?’
‘You don’t look like the type to indulge in fanciful dreams.’ Heck, he couldn’t look any more uptight if he tried. He wore a different suit, shirt and tie for every day of the week, each outfit expertly tailored but boringly conservative and she’d yet to see him with a hair out of place. Except that first morning in his bedroom—though she’d managed to effectively block out that provocative memory.
He quirked an eyebrow. ‘Daydreams are wasted. Maybe I prefer to indulge in fanciful dreams at night?’
Sam looked up quickly, wondering if she’d imagined his lowered tone, the slight husky edge. He stared at her, dark eyes unreadable, as he took a casual bite out of a tuna and mayonnaise sandwich. She swallowed, trying to ignore the sudden wish that she could replace the sandwich as his supper. She wouldn’t mind him nibbling on her, not one little bit.
Spurred on by the urge to match wits with him, she took a sip of her coffee and feigned innocence. ‘What you do at night is no concern of mine.’
‘Would you like it to be?’
Damn, he was good. Just when she thought she’d got the better of him, he sent her a loaded comeback like that.
Resisting the urge to grin, she said, ‘Depends. I thought I’d worked enough nights lately. There’s only so much typing, filing and bookkeeping a girl can take.’
‘I wasn’t talking about work.’
‘Oh?’ Her heart hammered in her chest as she tried to hide behind her coffee mug. She loved playing games, especially with a man as sharp as Dylan and she wondered how far she could push it, though every ounce of common sense urged her not to match wits with her boss.
‘You’ve been doing a great job, Samantha. I’m pleased with your work and you’ve hardly had a night off since you started. How would you like a tour of Melbourne by night?’ He devoured the last of the sandwiches, concentrating on his plate as if her answer meant nothing to him. However, she noticed he ran a finger around the inside of his tight collar, a gesture she’d noted only when he seemed rattled.
She smiled, her heart threatening to burst out of her chest. ‘Sounds great. Know any good tour operators?’
He looked up and fixed her with a piercing stare, the chocolate depths of his eyes drawing her in, deeper than she’d ever been or intended to go. She could drown in those eyes, spend a lifetime floundering
