Undressed by the Boss. Nicola Marsh

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Undressed by the Boss - Nicola Marsh Mills & Boon By Request

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her Power Point presentation. The close-fitting trousers she had chosen in the mall hinted at her figure, while the short, red tailored cardigan clung to her slender shoulders, emphasising the femininity she took such pains to disguise. That puzzled him. What was she frightened of?

      By the time he brought the meeting to an end an idea had occurred to him. The successful candidate would be someone who could work as easily outside the office as inside; they must get on confidently with people from all walks of life. And, following on from their earlier conversation, Casey’s next test was obvious.

      CHAPTER SIX

      ‘WHY are we here?’ she said, leaning forward to peer out of the limousine window as they drew up outside one of his warehouses on the dock.

      ‘To show you some things you have to sell.’

      ‘I have to sell them? What? Where?’

      ‘Why don’t you wait and see?’

      How pretty she was when she did that smile/frown thing. Waving the driver away, he helped her out of the limousine himself. In fact, he was done with drivers.

      ‘Could you have my car delivered?’ he asked discreetly, while Casey stood staring up at the outside of the aircraft-hangar-sized warehouse in awe.

      ‘Certainly, sir. Which car would you like?’

      Casey’s words about excess flew into his mind. She could be his conscience for the day, he decided wryly, asking for the Tesla to be delivered dockside.

      ‘The Tesla? Yes, sir.’

      ‘Come on,’ he said, turning to Casey. ‘Let’s go inside …’

      He took her through a small side door into a yawning space, packed with everything from a stretch Hummer to a side room holding enough cutting-edge carbon technology tack for five teams of polo ponies. There was enough excess inside here to give her a blue fit.

      ‘What on earth is all this?’ she said softly, and he could already hear her mind cogs whirring.

      She was probably imagining a store where she would have to put all these things on sale under the same roof, and wondering how on earth she was going to organise it.

      ‘We’re not finished yet,’ he warned as he led the way down an aisle lined with packing cases stretching high into the silence of the dust-flecked air.

      ‘What is all this?’ she repeated.

      Her voice was tense and excited, though she kept her distance as they walked along.

      ‘You like a challenge, don’t you?’

      ‘Yes,’ she said cautiously.

      ‘Then let’s move on to the inner sanctum.’

      There were guards on the door, and a number of pass codes had to be inputted before finally iris recognition allowed him entry. Once they were inside he could see she was surprised by the fact that, compared to the rest of the facility, this was a relatively comfortable and ordinary-looking office. Having shut them inside the hermetically sealed space, he touched a hidden lever, and a safe in the floor began to rise.

      ‘Any more surprises?’ she asked him when he glanced at her.

      They shared a moment, and this time he let his gaze linger. ‘We’ll have to see, won’t we?’ he teased her gently as she looked away. ‘I’m not wholly sure what surprises you yet.’

      Now she blushed.

      Taking a key fob from his pocket, he approached the safe and keyed in the numbers, changed remotely on the fob every few minutes by satellite signal. He heard her gasp when the door sprang open as if by magic. Withdrawing a small leather suitcase, he suggested she sat down.

      ‘I’ll bring it over to the table,’ he said, ‘so you can take a proper look. There are things in here it would be better not to drop …’

      * * *

      Raffa drew up a chair and sat close by without touching her. It was hard to relax, but she must relax if she were to concentrate. She inhaled deeply, drawing on his delicious scent and warmth, allowing her eyes one last greedy glimpse of his strong, pirate’s face before putting herself on a strict Raffa-free diet.

      She gasped as he showed her the fabulous Fabergé egg. ‘Oh, my …’ Her voice tailed away.

      She had sold many things in her time, but nothing to compare with this. The workmanship was breathtaking in its complexity, and so much more beautiful than any photograph would allow. But she didn’t have the know-how required to sell objets d’art of this quality, Casey realised, wondering if she was destined to fail this test.

      Raffa went on to reveal what amounted to not a king’s ransom in jewels, but a Sheikh’s. Remembering her bemusement at the price paid for one car registration plate, Casey realised she would have to make some serious adjustments to her thinking. And she would have to stop being distracted by Raffa, who right now was handling the various artefacts with reverence and sensitivity. She had never encountered a man with such power and strength and yet such sensibility. No wonder she was distracted—those hands, that concentration …

      She must have quivered involuntarily, for he looked up.

      ‘Are you all right, Casey?’ he asked her softly.

      She passed a hand across her brow, pretending concentration on a breathtaking collar of emeralds and diamonds which Raffa had just removed from a velvet case. ‘So, what kind of retail facility did you have in mind for all this?’ she asked him in a voice turned suddenly dry. ‘I should own up right away and tell you I have never sold anything of this value before.’

      ‘Very few people have,’ he pointed out. ‘But you can sell anything, according to your CV.’

      ‘That refers to concepts and schemes rather than fabulous objects like this.’

      ‘Then it’s time to stretch yourself,’ Raffa countered.

      How had their heads become so close their faces were almost touching? They were both leaning over the glittering mound of jewels on the table like two children examining a pirate’s hoard; both of them with eyes bright with the light of possibility. Though Casey guessed hers was the only heart trying to beat its way out of a chest.

      ‘So, what do you think?’ Raffa said as he toyed with the magnificent emerald and diamond necklace.

      Everything she shouldn’t, Casey thought, wishing she could concentrate on the only thing that mattered—which was the job she was here to try out for.

      ‘Casey?’ Raffa prompted.

      She snapped her brain onto full alert. ‘I think I should hire experts to advise and assist me,’ she said. ‘But I will sell these for you.’

      ‘Good,’ he said, settling back. ‘Though I think sapphires would suit you better,’ he added, as Casey distractedly toyed with the emerald necklace.

      ‘You do?’ She made the very serious mistake of looking at

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