Page 14 of Covert

She couldn’t compete with this stunner—not that she had any intention of doing so. The sooner she realised fantasising about her boss was off-limits, the easier this job would become.

“I think your work speaks for itself, Samantha”

Sam froze as Dylan appeared behind the woman. Mortification filled her as she wondered how much of their conversation he’d overheard.

Raising her eyes to meet his, she was unprepared for the appreciative glow in his gaze as it skimmed her faded jeans with the tear above one knee to the expanse of skin exposed by her skimpy top.

“Thank you.” She didn’t know if her gratitude stemmed from the verbal compliment or the approval in his stare. “I’ll leave you two to get back to dinner.”

“So, you’ve met Monique?”

Sam shook her head. “Not officially. We sort of ran into each other.”

“Oh?” Dylan stared at her, intense, probing, and she had the sudden feeling he could look into her very soul and see her animosity for the other woman simmering below the surface.

Monique laughed, a fake sound to match the rest of her. “Yes, it was quite amusing, actually. No harm done, Miss Piper?”

As the brunette laid a possessive hand on Dylan’s arm, Sam wasn’t so sure about the no harm bit. Right now, she had a distinct urge to harm someone, and she was looking straight at her.

Instead, she schooled her face into a polite mask. “Nice to meet you. Enjoy your dinner.”

She hurried down the hallway and into the kitchen without a backward glance. If that’s the type of woman Dylan wanted, he could have her.

Losing sight of her goal at this early stage into her employment would be disastrous. She had a long way to go to prove a point to her family, and getting ‘ideas’ about her handsome boss would only prove detrimental.

As the memory of his appreciative stare returned, she knew focussing all her attention on her goal and less on Dylan would prove a lot harder than expected.

10

Sam snuggled deeper into the cushions, ignoring the incessant pounding that threatened to disrupt the delightful dream she’d been having about Bradley Cooper and Chris Hemsworth fighting over her.

However, the noise intensified, and she reluctantly struggled to consciousness, vowing to stream one of Chris’s action movies again in the hope of rekindling the dream.

Glancing at her watch, she was surprised to see she’d dozed for over an hour and it was well after midnight. She padded across to the door and opened it, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“What do you want?” She frowned at Dylan, knowing she sounded like a recalcitrant child. She’d never been any good on wakening, whatever time of day or night.

“I needed to see you.”

She stepped away from the door, letting him into the small sitting room. “Now?”

He pointed at the TV, where it showed a thumbnail of the movie she’d been watching when she dozed off. “Yes, unless you were expecting Chris Hemsworth?”

Her cheeks flooded with heat. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

He laughed, a warm, rich sound that enveloped her in an intimate cocoon. “Someone’s got a crush.”

She folded her arms and glared at him, wishing he would leave her alone. It was hard enough spending time with him in the den each day; having him in her room, standing here as if he owned the world and knew it, was not conducive to her peace of mind.

So what if she harboured fantasies about Chris? They were unattainable—unlike the living, breathing fantasy before her, who she could reach out to and…

“Are you all right?” He closed the distance between them, his signature aftershave washing over her in a sensuous wave.

She inhaled, infusing her senses with the smell, knowing the potent combination of spicy clove aftershave and pure Dylan couldn’t be good for her health, yet doing it anyway.

“I’m tired,” she murmured, and turned away, not ready to face his tenderness.

She preferred his bossy, tyrannical side to this gentle caring which could undo her good intentions to keep him at bay in a second.

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