Page 20 of The Boss's Forbidden Assistant

She knew the beaches around the island had big waves, because Salvador had told her so, and because she heard them day and night, the pounding of water to coastline reassuring and rhythmic. But the path she followed from the house brought her to a cove that was rounded in shape and perfectly still. A natural wave break had been formed by the shape of the land here, so it was the perfect spot to swim calmly and enjoy the serene ocean.

Harper didn’t have time to swim and it was enough to dip her toes in the water and feel the cool balm. She walked to the edge, sighing as she felt the ocean, and closed her eyes. She remembered being a little girl at the beach with her dad, a couple of years after her parents had divorced, her dad so strong and big, his laugh the nicest thing she’d ever heard as he’d hoisted a little Harper onto his shoulders and carried her into the ocean. Her toes had dangled into the sea, pleasantly cool like this, and she’d giggled because it had tickled a little. The deeper her father had gone, the more she’d laughed, until the water was at his shoulder height. She’d been so happy to see him, to have the full force of his attention for a change.

‘Ready?’ he’d called up to her as a wave came close to his face so he had to turn away.

‘I don’t know, Daddy.’

‘You can do it, Harp Seal.’

She’d loved that nickname, though she hadn’t heard it for a long time. Not since he’d left.

‘I don’t know.’

But she’d wanted to impress her dad, maybe even win him back. So she’d ignored her fear and ground her teeth.

‘Okay, I’m ready!’

He’d placed his palms beneath her feet, forming a platform, and then ducked his head forward so she was diving into the water—deep, cold, salty heaven. She’d faced her fears in the hope of showing her dad how brave she could be, but he’d left again anyway, disappearing from her life and leaving only disjointed, unsatisfying memories.

Twenty years later, on a different beach, Harper turned her back on the ocean, sighed softly and made her way back to the house.

He checked the itinerary as a matter of course, but it was perfect. She’d booked a room for each of them in the hotels he’d specified, and had managed to schedule his existing commitments into the new time zones, ensuring his normal work schedule wouldn’t be affected by the travel. He noted she’d blocked out half-hour times for herself as well, per their agreement, and not for the first time he wondered about that.

Why half an hour? What did she do with that time? She’d been so adamant about it. It wasn’t for food—she ate at her desk. Did she nap in the middle of the day? Possible, but unlikely. She didn’t seem like someone who’d nap. Then again, a restorative sleep had been proven beneficial for concentration, and she was certainly incredibly focussed. Or did she disappear to read a book?

He didn’t know, but he wanted to, almost as much as he wanted to see her naked, to touch her, to feel her... He dropped his head to his hands on a laugh that was totally devoid of humour.

He’d found himself in some kind of hell and there was nothing he could do about it.

Harper had been brought to the island by helicopter, and they left the same way, but this was an entirely different experience because Salvador took the controls. Harper sat in the back, rather than in the empty seat beside him—he didn’t offer that seat to her and she was glad. Even the view she had from there was pantie-melting hot.

He was so in control of such a complex instrument panel. So had the pilot on the way over been, and it hadn’t affected Harper like this, but now was different. This was Salvador, the man who ran a multi-billion-dollar empire, who seemed able to turn his hand to anything. She sat back in the seat, trying to look out of the window rather than staring at him, at the tanned forearms that were exposed by his shirt as he moved levers and held the flight controls. It was just so incredibly, intoxicatingly masculine...

He landed the helicopter at a private airstrip on the outskirts of Rio de Janeiro—Christ the Redeemer had guided the way—and his private jet sat waiting on the tarmac.

‘Are you going to fly this too?’ she couldn’t help asking as a swarm of staff approached the helicopter, removing luggage, checking controls, greeting Salvador.

Harper had arranged all this, per Amanda’s checklist, but she still hadn’t quite known what to expect. The reality was actually quite unnerving.

‘No. On the plane, I work,’ he said, the words holding a warning, as though she’d come along just to try to distract him.

Fine by me, she thought waspishly, falling into step beside him. But as they approached the steps at the bottom of the plane he paused to allow her to precede him, his hand reaching out and touching her lightly in the small of her back to urge her forward. It was a nothing gesture, only it didn’tfeellike nothing. Sparks flew from her back all through her body and ignited the blood in her veins as though it were lava. She couldn’t help her sharp intake of breath, nor the way her eyes skidded to his. He kept his gaze resolutely averted, so she saw only his profile, but his jaw was clenched—she knew he felt it too.

Whatever feelings inside Salvador had unknowingly given her were usurped by a sense of awe. She’d naturally expected to be impressed by a private jet and yet she hadn’t thought it would be quite as opulent as this—from the grey leather seats, each wide enough to outdo a first-class seat in a commercial jet, to the arrangement of them. It was like a trendy bar rather than a plane, the seats facing one another, low coffee tables between them. There was a partition behind this seating area and Harper moved past it, too curious to be polite and wait to be shown.

The next room was a boardroom with a large table and a big screen on the wall at one end. It would easily accommodate up to twenty people. The sense of awe grew as she moved further down the plane, and then something else overtook it completely.

Bedrooms—two of them—each with a huge double bed anden suitebathroom.

Her pulse was thready and she spun guiltily, but Salvador was right there. He must have been following her and she hadn’t realised. Now they bumped into one another and his hands came out and caught her arms, his expression exasperated and impatient, even when he held on far longer than was necessary to steady her.

She looked up into his face and everything evaporated—common sense, thought, his confession about his late wife, the certainty that they couldn’t, shouldn’t act on whatever feelings they had. There was only desire now.

But for Salvador this was clearly not the case. He dropped his hands quickly and stepped backwards, irritation in the depths of his eyes. ‘The flight is about fourteen hours. You should choose a room.’ He gestured towards both of them. ‘I’ll work from the front of the plane for now.’

‘Which room is yours?’

‘Generally I use this one.’ He nodded to the left.

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