Chapter 12
12
S am tried on and discarded several outfits before settling on black skinny leg pants and a ruby top. She wrinkled her nose at her reflection, wishing she hadn’t been looking forward to this evening so much.
No matter how much she tried to convince herself this would simply be a night out as repayment for her hard work, she couldn’t forget Dylan’s kiss.
They’d apologised for their lapse in judgement and spent the last week treading carefully, working in silence. She only spoke to ask questions after he delegated a task and he stuck to a manic schedule that left little time for talk let alone anything else.
She should’ve been glad. Their frantic work pace left her exhausted and falling asleep quickly every night. Less time to ponder what that kiss meant.
And the many ways she could tempt him to do it again.
Now, she had to spend a whole evening in his company without the safety net of pen, paper, computer, spreadsheets, or endless invoices. No hiding behind business questions or typing dictated letters. Instead, she’d be forced to make small talk and heaven forbid, face possible interrogation about her personal life.
Not to mention the more daunting prospect if Dylan turned on the charm. If he flashed that rare killer smile or stared at her with those chocolate brown eyes, she’d be a goner.
Dashing a slick of gloss across her lips, she hoped she had more willpower than she’d shown that night he’d come to her room. She should have pushed him away and given him a verbal barrage. Instead, she’d submitted to that mind-blowing kiss with all the fierceness of a purring cat. All she’d needed to do was roll over and beg for her tummy to be rubbed, an action she’d been perilously close to doing before she pulled away.
As if on cue, a knock sounded at her door. Straightening her shoulders and taking a deep breath, she opened it, doing her utmost to appear nonchalant.
“Hey,” Dylan said, sounding oddly shy. “Ready to go?”
She nodded, wishing her heart would stop hammering a staccato beat. She’s never shied away from confrontation—her brothers could attest to that—and she needed to clear the air with Dylan.
“Before we go, we need to talk.”
His smile faded, replaced by his residual frown. “About what?”
“That kiss and the ramifications.”
He grimaced and swiped a hand over his face. “I’ve already apologised and I thought we’d moved past it—”
“We have, but working with you this past week has been tense, and I don’t like it. Especially after I thought we’d made headway in our relationship.”
His eyes widened in horror and she almost laughed. “Our working relationship. But for the record, I’m upfront about what I want out of life, as you probably guessed when I barrelled my way into being your butler initially, so I want you to know something.”
“What?”
“I enjoyed the kiss. I invited the kiss. So you’ve got nothing to worry about in the harassment stakes, or about me being your employee. Tonight, we’re not work colleagues.”
The frown furrowing his brow deepened. “Then what are we?”
“Friends?”
“Friends,” he parroted, as if trying it on for size.
“And it’s okay if friends flirt and have fun and relax, okay?”
He didn’t respond, and she could see the inner war he waged—honour and duty battling what she hoped was attraction.
He cleared his throat. “That’s nice in theory, but what happens when we’re back in the office?”
Of course he’d be logical about this.
“We won’t be the first workplace romance and we wouldn’t be the last. I’m consenting to shenanigans. Are you?”
His frown faded and the corners of his mouth twitched. “You say the damnedest things.”
“Just getting everything out in the open so there’s no room to misconstrue anything.”
“Like?”
“Like when I tell you to lead the way to the car so I can perv on your butt.”
“The view’s that good, huh?”
He finally smiled and she exhaled in relief.
They could do this. It had been too long since she’d had fun with a guy; not one that had been grilled by her brothers first, that is. The whole interrogation thing tended to be a dampener on any budding romance so she was determined to make the most of her freedom in Melbourne.
With a defiant toss of her hair, she said, “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t checked it out.” She paused to nudge him with her elbow. “Yet.”
His chuckles followed her down the hallway and out to the car, where she leaned against the door and tried her best to look nonchalant.
“By the way, you look great.” He opened the passenger door for her, a waft of spicy aftershave washing over her and sending her already reeling senses spiralling dangerously out of control.
“Thanks. See? How hard was that, getting into the friendship zone?”
Sam didn’t hear his muttered reply as she slid into the car and he closed the door before moving around to the driver’s side.
“So, where are we off to?”
“Dinner at Southbank, a cruise up the Yarra, coffee on the observation deck of the Rialto.” He paused. “And anything else that takes your fancy.”
She risked a quick glance at him, noting the relaxed shoulders, the slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. She’d never seen him this laidback and it scared her.
She wanted this. She’d just demanded it. But she hadn’t factored in that if she couldn’t resist him at his stern, business best, she had no hope with this new, friendly Dylan.
“Let’s just take it as it comes, okay?”
“Sounds good to me,” he said, and she wondered if she heard his sigh of relief or she imagined it.
He drove with the expertise of a man used to handling the large SUV and she wondered if he had any faults. She’d never met a man who exuded such confidence in everything he did. She was almost jealous of his self-assurance when she was still finding her way in the world.
He pointed out several landmarks as he drove, saving her from making conversation. If she thought working in the confines of a den had been difficult, being enclosed in a car with a man who smelled good enough to eat did strange things to her insides.
Once they were settled at an intimate table for two at a plush seafood restaurant, had ordered their meal, and had their wine glasses filled, he focused his attention on her.
“Tell me the Samantha Piper story.”
Almost choking on her wine, Sam cleared her throat and made a lightning fast decision to stick to as much of the truth as possible.
“Not much to tell. I come from a fairly conservative family, with five brothers who are major pains. I’ve done a business degree, but I’d prefer to get some hands-on life experience before I pursue a career in the field.”
“Five brothers?” His eyebrows rose. “Bet your dates get a rough time.”
She rolled her eyes, remembering the painful interrogations, the endless probing for information the few guys she’d dated had to endure. “Don’t remind me.”
“So, how many dates were there?” He pinned her with a fierce stare, as if trying to drag her darkest and deepest secrets from her.
She shrugged and bit back a grin. “I lost count after the first fifty.”
“You can’t be serious?” Appalled, his eyes widened, and she bit back a laugh.
“Deadly.” She smiled and mentally counted the men she’d had the misfortune to go out with on one hand. None had measured up to the man sitting opposite her, and for one, brief second she wished they’d met under different circumstances.
There was no way she could allow anything serious to develop between them, not when her presence in his life was based on a lie. “Why are you so interested in my life story anyway?”
“It pays to know who I’m working with.”
He avoided her eyes and Sam knew he was hiding something. Someone had burned him before and the memory still lingered, intensifying her guilt at deceiving him.
“Speaking of work, when do we leave for Budgeree?” She tried to sound casual, thankful to move the topic of conversation onto safer ground.
“In the next few weeks.” He sipped his wine and leaned back, the earlier tension while he’d been grilling her gone. “Funny, I didn’t pick you to be the outback type. Are you sure you’re ready for the barren plains?”
“There you go again, trying to figure out what ‘type’ I am. So tell me, what is the outback type? Brawny women in flannel checkered shirts and jodhpurs, cracking whips and rounding up their men along with the cattle?”
“Nice stereotype.” He chuckled. “I picked you to be a city girl. Something in the way you dress… ” He trailed off as his gaze skimmed her top, lingering a second too long on her cleavage, before returning to her face.
Sam tried not to squirm, the intensity of his stare sending her pulse skyrocketing. Thankfully, she was saved from answering by the arrival of their meals, and quickly focussed her attention on the plate of steaming scallops in front of her. As she speared one of the plump molluscs and bit into its juicy freshness, he reached across the table toward her.
“You have some parsley right there.”
She froze, as he brushed his thumb across the corner of her mouth and let it stray to her bottom lip.
It took every ounce of willpower to resist the powerful urge to turn toward his hand and nibble his finger.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, as he removed his thumb, bowing her head and wishing for longer hair to shield her dazed expression.
“No problem.”
His voice sounded husky and she wondered if had any idea the sort of effect he had on her. She’d never experienced such a profound sense of confusion when it came to a man: the jittery nerves, the racing pulse, the hollow stomach. It disconcerted yet electrified her simultaneously.
As she mopped up the last of the garlic sauce with bread, Sam risked a glance at Dylan. Relishing the luxury of studying his impressive profile as he turned to gesture at a waiter, she didn’t notice the man walking purposefully toward them until it was too late.
“Hey, Princess. Fancy seeing you here.”
Sam’s heart sank. Quade Miller, her eldest brother Dimitri’s best friend, towered over their table, his expression smug as he glanced from her to Dylan and back again.
She clenched her hands under the table, wondering how much Dimitri had told Quade about her journey to Melbourne and wishing he wouldn’t call her princess. All her brothers and their moronic friends had called her that for as long as she could remember, delighting in the fact she hated it.
“Hi, Quade. How are you?” Pasting a fake smile on her face, she made the necessary introductions. “By the way, this is Dylan.”
Quade’s grin broadened as he shook Dylan’s hand. “Nice to meet you. Heard a lot about you.”
“Really?” Dylan quirked an eyebrow and gave Quade the same supercilious glare she’d seen countless times before, the one reserved for people who displeased him in some way.
“Yeah, Sam keeps her family informed of her goings on.” Quade shot her another cheeky grin. “Way to go, Princess. So everything I’ve heard is true?”
Please don’t blow it , she silently wished, knowing one wrong word from Quade could send her plans straight to hell, along with her lying soul.
“Possibly, though you know how that brother of mine loves to gossip.” She deliberately kept her response light, knowing Quade would report back to Dimitri and her family, who thought she was head over heels in love with Dylan Harmon, her prospective husband, as she had implied to them.
Quade winked and jerked his head in Dylan’s direction. “In this case, I think he’s hit the nail on the head. Seems like all the speculation is correct.”
Dylan continued to glare daggers in Quade’s direction and Sam knew she had to get rid of the other man fast.
So far, so good, but all it would take was one stray word to blow her cover.
“Nice seeing you, Quade. Though if you don’t mind, we’d like to finish our dinner.” She sent a warm smile in Dylan’s direction, hoping Quade would get the hint.
Thankfully, he did. “Sure thing, Princess. You have fun.”
He nodded at Dylan. “Nice meeting you, Dylan. I’m sure I’ll be seeing more of you in the future.”
Sam swore she heard Dylan mutter ‘not if I can help it’ under his breath as Quade walked away and joined a large party at a table across the room.
Dylan’s frigid stare made her want to rub the goosebumps from her arms. “Who’s he?”
She noted the clenched jaw, the thinned lips, and wondered why Quade had made Dylan so uptight. If anyone should’ve been uncomfortable, it was her. She’d been so sure Dylan would read something into her rigid posture and stilted answers yet here he was, looking like an actor who’d forgotten his lines on opening night.
“An old friend,” she said, sipping her water, thankful for the opportunity Quade had presented her.
Though she’d spoken to and texted her family, trying to convince them her continued absence meant she grew closer to her prospective ‘husband’, Quade’s back-up story that he’d seen her having a cosy dinner with her intended would be exactly what she needed to keep their prying noses at bay.
“An old boyfriend?”
“Jealous?” She almost chuckled at the notion, but the strange look that flitted across his face made her wonder.
“Of him ?” He made it sound like taking on Quade and winning would be child’s play. “Not likely. Just curious, that’s all.”
Eager to put the whole episode behind them, she said, “Quade’s a friend of my brother. We practically grew up together.”
“He seemed overly familiar.”
“He’s a jackass, just like my brothers.”
Who would never let her hear the end of it if they discovered the real reason she was spending time with Dylan Harmon: working for him.
“Let’s finish and take that cruise,” he said, as eager to ditch the subject of Quade as her.
Thankfully, the rest of the meal passed without incident. They made mundane small talk scattered between courses—pan-seared garlic prawns, cumin-encrusted lamb shoulder, and a melt in the mouth pistachio soufflé’—followed by a stroll along the Yarra River and a ride in a gondola.
A relaxed, fun evening, as she wanted.
However, just as she managed to replace the lid on her fantasies surrounding Dylan, he did something that pried it open.
He kissed her.
Again.