Page 10 of Covert

Once again, it hit him that she didn’t like taking orders, and he wondered what on earth had prompted her take this job.

Something about Sam Piper didn’t ring true, he had every intention of finding out exactly what secrets she hid behind that feisty façade.

“Fine.”

Though she said everything was fine, he seriously doubted it. Her rigid posture screamed it wasn’t, not by a long shot, and considering his confused libido, he had to agree.

6

Sam slowly exhaled as she closed the den door. She must be insane to contemplate going through with her plan if she couldn’t last the morning in Dylan’s company.

Could he see how she practically swooned when he smiled at her? As for his asking if she was free tonight, she had to restrain herself from leaping over the desk and straight onto his lap.

Men had never affected her this way. She always managed to keep her relationships strictly platonic, preferring male friends to groping Neanderthals some of her dates turned into at the slightest encouragement.

Even some of the ‘pillars of society’ her brothers set her up with turned out to be marauding sex maniacs, and she’d managed to avoid their embarrassing advances with aplomb.

Maybe that made her naïve when it came to men, but did it explain her over-the-top reaction to Dylan?

What made him so special, that every self-preservation mechanism she’d ever used seemed to malfunction whenever he looked at her? Whatever it was, she needed to get a handle on it quick-smart. That’s all she needed, her new boss to think she had a crush on him.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door to Liz Harmon’s sitting room.

“Come in, Sam.”

Sam opened the door, wondering what the older woman could want. After the initial interview they hadn’t crossed paths, though she’d taken an instant liking to the elegant Liz.

“You wanted to see me, Mrs. Harmon?”

Liz waved toward a chair. “Take a seat, Sam. And please, call me Liz.”

Keeping her surprise from showing, Sam perched on the overstuffed chair and folded her hands in her lap.

Liz reached for a leather-bound book on a nearby table and opened it. “I know all about you, dear.”

She fixed Sam with a piercing stare, leaving her in little doubt as to what she meant.

Sam clenched her hands so tight the knuckles whitened, trying to buy valuable time to compose an answer that wouldn’t incriminate yet sounded honest at the same time.

However, Liz continued before she had the chance to speak. “There was something about you that looked familiar at the interview, so I followed a hunch. I’m a great fan of history, you know.”

In that instant, any hope Sam harboured that the older lady was simply fishing for information vanished.

Schooling her features into a polite mask, she said, “I can explain—“

“Please.” Liz held up her hand. “Indulge an old lady for a moment.” She flicked a few pages, before stopping at what looked like a family tree and tracing a line with her finger. “You must be Princess Samantha Popov. Am I correct?” She looked up expectantly, no 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 on the first day. Mortifying.

Sam nodded, not quite understanding the other woman’s excitement. “You’re right. I’m sorry for lying to you, but I really need 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 appeared excited a moment ago, she now looked downright ecstatic.

“I don’t understand. You want me to stay?”

---