Page 27 of Blind Date with the Boss

‘Oh, no. There’s no need for that. The ball’s in less than a fortnight, but Diana Devenish is such an expert she can dance any style, so I just have to nominate which I’d prefer.’

‘That certainly takes the pressure off. Which dance would you like to learn?’

He shrugged. ‘What’s the easiest?’

‘It depends on your personality and your body type.’ With her head to one side, Sally pretended to study her tall, dark, handsome and slightly arrogant boss. ‘I don’t think there’s any question, actually. You should definitely choose the waltz.’

Logan’S sister rang him that evening. ‘I know you’re going to tell me I’m a nosy sister, but I’ve made enquiries about ballroom dancing classes.’

‘You’re an exceedingly nosy sister,’ he told her, without malice. ‘And your efforts are appreciated, but entirely unnecessary. I’ve made my own arrangements.’

‘For dancing classes?’

‘There’s no need to sound so shocked.’

‘I must say I’m surprised, Logan. Very surprised. I know how you feel about dancing and I was sure you’d keep putting off classes. Who’s the teacher?’

‘Er –’ Logan missed a beat ‘–a woman in Glebe.’

‘Did she come highly recommended?’

He sidestepped that question. ‘Relax, Carissa. I’m confident she’ll be more than satisfactory.’

‘Well…’ Carissa was obviously struggling to take this in. ‘That’s – that’s fantastic, little brother. Good for you.’

Logan wished, as he hung up, that he felt as certain as he’d sounded.

Now that he’d jumped in and propositioned Sally Finch he was beginning to wonder if he’d lost his grip on reality. Why, in the first place, had he confided in his newest employee about a limitation that had embarrassed him since he was a teenager? And why had he then gone one step further and asked her to help him overcome that handicap?

The rushed trip to Western Australia must have taken its toll and left him with weakened defences. What other explanation could there be? He’d walked through Blackcorp’s doors this morning, had taken one look at Sally and his commonsense had melted like cheap plastic in a microwave.

Then again, he argued a moment later, why not hire Sally’s expertise? His knowledge of dance teachers was severely limited, but he was sure she had the necessary credentials – a slim build, energy and grace. Good communication skills.

Logan’s alternative was a professional teacher and he didn’t fancy being bossed around by an indifferent stranger who dealt with an endless stream of enthusiastic pupils.

Sally was a sensitive, feeling type – Janet Keaton had said so – and she would understand how uneasy he felt about dancing. Better still, she was an employee, so he’d still have the upper hand. Of course, he would pay her well for her trouble.

Everything would be fine as long as he made sure that the lessons didn’t upset their boss-employee dynamics.

That settled, Logan’s conscience was clear. Once this waltzing distraction had been discreetly and efficiently dealt with, he would be able to get straight back to his far more important responsibilities and focus one hundred percent on his business.

Sally floated in a muddled daze through the next few days. At work she was grateful for the many distractions and at home she gave herself a thousand lectures. It was vitally important that she didn’t read too much into the boss’s request for dancing lessons. It was simply a logical extension of their conversation at the teambuilding workshop.

She was sure that the boss of Blackcorp had no romantic hidden agendas and she had to stop magnifying the significance of their rendezvous in the wine bar, had to stop reliving the utterly divine experience of sitting beside him in his luxurious car as he drove her home. And she mustn’t dwell on how charmingly he’d chatted, offering fascinating insights into places of interest around Sydney.

There was no way the lessons would lead to anything romantic. It was out of the question. Just imagine, an affair between the boss and his most lowly employee. What a joke. She was a girl from the bush and she didn’t fit into his city scene at all.

And the last thing she wanted was to join the long list of women who’d received his weekly offering of roses. Actually, Sally couldn’t help wondering, why hadn’t Logan asked one of them to teach him to dance? Was it beneath these high fliers’ dignity? Or was it simply that Logan wanted to keep this one little inadequacy a secret from the rest of the world?

Whatever her boss’s reason for seeking her out, one thing was certain: when the dance class started, their roles would be reversed. She would be the one with the expertise.She would the teacher and Logan Black would be the pupil.

In charge of the boss. It was a mind-twisting thought.

CHAPTER TWELVE

THURSDAY evening began with Logan’s arrival on Sally’s doorstep, which was an event in itself. He was wearing battered blue jeans and a faded blue T shirt, thin from much washing and when Sally opened her door, she forgot that it was rude to stare.

He looked so different! So casual and relaxed and –gulp– even more drop dead divine than usual.

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