Chapter 2
2
D ylan stepped from the shower and dried off, before wrapping a towel around his waist and reaching for a razor.
While shaving, he heard the bedroom door slam and assumed it must be the new butler his mother hired. Not that he needed one, but Liz Harmon seemed hell-bent on making his life easier these days.
“Is that you, Sam? I’ll be out in a minute.”
Splashing aftershave into his palms and patting his face, he wondered what sort of man his mother deemed suitable. Sam Piper must be a jack-of-all-trades, because his mother believed he needed someone to lend him a hand in all facets of the business.
If he hadn’t been so pig-headed, she’d have hired someone a long time ago. They’d argued about his workload for far too long and he’d finally given in, knowing his mother’s interference sprang from concern rather than any great desire to rule his life.
Strolling into the bedroom, he came face to face with a woman.
Not just any woman, but a delicate waif wearing a navy blue uniform with the Harmon coat of arms over her left breast. Once his gaze strayed to her chest, he had a tough time wrenching it back, because the evidence of her femininity, combined with the uniform, could only mean one thing.
“Hi, I’m Sam Piper. Pleased to meet you.”
The woman held out her hand and he continued to stare, taking in her short blonde curls, wide green eyes, and heart-shaped face. Not classically beautiful but there was something about her… she had an indefinable quality that could captivate a man before he knew what hit him.
He shook her hand, surprised by the firmness of her grip. “ You’re the new butler?”
She gave a quaint little bow. “At your service… Sir.”
He noted the cheeky pause, the twinkle in her eye. His first assessment had been right. She could be trouble.
“Call me Dylan. Though it won’t be for long.”
She straightened her shoulders. “Why is that?”
“Because you’re fired.”
He turned away and headed for the wardrobe, wondering what had possessed his mother to pull a stunt like this.
“If you’re looking for the charcoal suit, white silk shirt, and maroon tie, they’re hanging on the back of the door.”
He stopped mid-stride and turned around, surprised she appeared unperturbed by his putting an abrupt end to her employment. In fact, she hadn’t moved an inch and didn’t seem at all concerned. “How did you know?”
She shrugged, and he noticed the stubborn set of her shoulders, the subservient clasped hands in front of her body at odds with the defiance in her steady gaze.
“You’re a man of habit. You always wear that combination on a Wednesday.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’ve been studying me?”
“Call it research.” Her demure smile didn’t fool him for a second, especially when defiance sparked her eyes. “All part of the job, Sir.”
“Don’t call me that,” he snapped. He strode across the room and picked up the clothes, wondering when he’d become so predictable. “What are you still doing here? Didn’t you hear me before? Your employment is terminated.”
“I heard you, but I’m not going anywhere.”
He glared at the waif. Rather than being intimidated as most people were around him, she met his gaze directly, not flinching when he moved towards her.
“Care to repeat that?”
Sam squared her shoulders and silently wished for an extra few inches. It would be difficult to appear threatening when she had to tilt her head back to stare her new employer in the eye, though it provided her with the perfect excuse to stop ogling his near-naked body.
Her gaze had been drawn to that damn towel too often for her liking and she needed something, anything, to distract her.
“You can’t fire me. I’ve signed a three month contract.”
Danger glinted in his eyes, the colour of molten chocolate, and she mentally chastised herself for comparing them to her favourite food.
“Contracts can be broken.” He took a step closer, making her all too aware of his broad, bare chest mere centimetres away.
Resisting the urge to run her hands over his muscular pecs and see if they felt as firm as they looked, she struggled to maintain composure. “I had an intensive interview. I’m sure your mother can vouch that I possess all the necessary skills for this job.”
He barked out a laugh devoid of amusement. “You honestly think you’ve got what it takes to be my butler?”
Sam bit back a smile. Dealing with Dylan Harmon would be easier than facing her brothers’ inquisitions for the last umpteen years.
“If you’re after someone with the right attitude, the right qualifications, and a genuine love of the job, then yes, I’m your woman.”
Her breath hitched as he stared at her, and she hated the helpless flutter deep in her gut that she may have taken on more than she could handle.
“Okay, Miss Piper. Consider yourself on trial for the next three months.” He took a step closer, bringing him within touching distance. “But if you make one wrong move, you’re out.”
Sam battled the urge to close her eyes and block out the hypnotic intensity of his stare. Instead, she took a steadying breath, wishing her erratic pulse would calm down.
As a waft of subtle aftershave with a hint of cloves hit her, she clenched her teeth, wishing her traitorous senses would stop misbehaving. So the guy had a great body, soulful eyes, a killer smile, and smelled good enough to eat? She’d dated better and come away unscathed.
Then why the jittery feeling that wouldn’t quit?
“Call me Sam.” She turned away before she did something stupid, like manhandle her boss on the first day.
“Samantha,” he said, determined to get the upper hand in true alpha fashion.
She knew that tone, the one her brothers used when they were beaten and didn’t want to give in too easily. So Dylan wanted to prove a point by calling her Samantha? No big deal. At least she’d survived his attempted sacking and it had proved to be a lot easier than expected.
“Can I get you anything else?” She gestured at the clothes laid on the bed, hoping he’d send her on an errand that involved being as far away from him and his skimpy towel as possible.
“Actually, yes.” His smirk and sardonic quirk of an eyebrow left her in little doubt she wouldn’t like her assignment. “Your first job can be to reorganise my underwear drawer. I want everything colour coded, neatly arranged, and segmented for every day of the week.”
Yep, she’d been right. He wanted to make her squirm. And oddly, the thought of touching his underwear did exactly that.
Heat flooded her cheeks, though she bit back a host of retorts about what he could do with his underwear and where he could stick it. “Fine.”
“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’ve 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.
How could Lucifer’s evil twin look innocent?
She 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, because she’d never seen a guy with so much poise appear so totally and utterly shocked.
“That’s not mine,” he said, distaste marring his handsome features.
“Really? Because 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 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, perfectly proportioned, and had a million silky thongs on rotation.
“One of your conquests?” She couldn’t resist asking, though what he did in his private life shouldn’t concern her in the slightest.
“My wayward niece,” he muttered, “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 uptight new 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 the scrap of silk and flung it across the room, where it landed neatly in the trash. “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 so far and she hoped her luck would hold out.
With a placating smile, 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 den in fifteen minutes. We’ll discuss today’s agenda then.”
Dismissed, she gave a mock salute behind his back and headed for the door.
“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 could censor it, typical of the feisty banter she exchanged with her brother’s friends, who were like family.
Interest glinted in his eyes before he blinked and stared at her, one brow arched. “Since when did the hired help get so provocative?”
“Since when did the employer think he could ask questions like that?”
“Didn’t your mother ever teach you to not answer a question with a question?”
“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. They were almost flirting. At least, she was; he looked plain uncomfortable.
“Men like me?” He frowned and folded his arms, drawing attention to his broad, naked chest.
Her mouth dried as her gaze strayed to that glorious expanse of muscles, noting a smattering of dark hair. She dragged her gaze back to his, hoping her interest didn’t show.
“Men who are egotistical, over-confident, world-beaters, used to getting what they want and letting nothing or nobody stand in their way.”
His self-satisfied grin channelled that arrogance she’d just mentioned. “I didn’t know I was so transparent. Lucky for me, 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 we’ve got you sorted out, perhaps I should make a start on the rest of that servitude stuff and organise breakfast in the den for our meeting?”
She had to escape. Having her sexy, bare-chested boss standing too close for comfort did strange things to her insides. Not to mention addling her brain.
“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 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 conglomerate.”
Before she could respond he slammed the door, leaving her with a distinct feeling that while he’d welcomed her to his world, he’d just turned hers upside down.