Page 8 of Covert

Sam wasn’t an idiot. Being Dylan’s personal assistant would be a heck of a lot more interesting than bowing and scraping to him and a lot less damaging.

For starters, she had a lot less chance of seeing him almost naked as his P.A. than as his butler.

“I accept,” she said. “Thanks for the opportunity.”

He nodded his approval. “Good. Now that’s settled, let’s get started. I need to dictate some letters that need to be sent ASAP. While I do that, you can sort through this pile of invoices I’ve printed out, and allocate them in monthly and alphabetical order please, with the most urgent bills to be paid uppermost.”

If he still printed out invoices rather than doing everything online, the first thing she would do is bring him into the twenty-first century.

But he glowered at her, as if expecting her to fail before she’d begun, so she took the pile and seated herself opposite him, thankful for the huge desk. No chance of accidental contact across a great divide of mahogany.

Though she tried to concentrate on the task at hand, she couldn’t resist sneaking a peek as he spoke into a recording device, his low tones soothing her. He’d dressed in the outfit she predicted earlier, though it looked a heck of a lot better on the man than on a hanger.

Visions of their morning interlude drifted into her mind and before she knew it she’d mentally undressed him down to the skimpy towel he’d worn as he strolled into his bedroom looking a million dollars. How she managed to maintain composure she’d never know.

At least those boring drama classes at high school had been good for something. Old Mrs. Lincoln would have been proud ofher “you don’t effect me one bit” performance she’d given Dylan earlier.

At that moment, the man in question hit the ‘stop’ button and looked up.

“Having trouble keeping up?” He pointedly stared at the stack of invoices in front of her and raised an eyebrow.

Fighting a losing battle with a rising heat that flooded her cheeks, she shook her head. “Sorry. I was just thinking.”

Lame, even by her standards, but what could she do when the object of an unexpected fantasy glared at her with those dark eyes that screamed ‘come and get me’?

“Thinking about what? Some old boyfriend you’ve left behind in Sydney?”

“I’m not from Sydney.” She responded without thinking and predictably, he pounced on her answer.

“But I thought you’d been working for the Larkin’s?”

His stare intensified, leaving her squirming like a bug under a six-year-old’s magnifying glass in the sun.

Crossing her fingers behind her back, she hoped her voice remained steady. “I was, but I’m from Brisbane originally.”

“Ah.” Before she could breathe a sigh of relief, he continued, “So, what about the boyfriend?”

“You’re my boss. My private life is none of your business.”

She folded her arms in a purely defensive gesture, wishing she could ignore that probing stare. Unfortunately, her action drew his stare downward before he quickly returned his gaze to her face.

“That’s where you’re wrong. You’ll be spending a lot of time travelling between our outback property and Melbourne, with little time off for socialising. I need to know that you’re one hundred percent committed to this job. Otherwise, I’ll find someone else.”

He picked up a pen and tapped it against the desk, as though impatiently awaiting her answer.

Though it went against the grain, she had to tell him about her private life—or lack of. She needed this job and hadn’t come this far to lose it now.

“There’s no-one special in my life at the moment. You’ll have my entire focus for the time I’m employed.”

“Good. I need all your attention… for the tasks at hand.”

His pause, combined with the subtle change in body language as he leaned towards her, sent her imagination spiralling out of control again.

She stared at him, caught in the hypnotic intensity of his smouldering eyes, wanting to look away yet powerless to do so. If she didn’t know better, she could’ve sworn he felt the bizarre attraction she’d conjured up out of thin air too.

“Are you free tonight?”

She blinked and resisted the impulse to nod like a schoolgirl being asked out on her first date. “That depends on you.”

---