Page 58 of Teasing Her Grumpy Boss

He’d been wrong. It wasn’t because of the club’s sale that she was leaving. It was because of him. She thought he was finding a replacement because she wasn’t doing a good enough job, because he thought she’d leave.

She’d looked so defiant. Bristling but so hurt. Vulnerable underneath the spiky exterior. He’d wanted to prune away the prickles and caress away the pain. Pain that he’d caused.

She cared. More than cared. But was all that emotion because of her love for the job, or love of him? He hardly dared hope for the latter. He hadn’t done a lot to deserve it.

Daniel had never felt such insecurity. It wasn’t a nice feeling. And nor was knowing she thought something that wasn’t true. She didn’t think he believed in her? He smarted at the injustice. Why the hell would he have given her the job in the first place if he hadn’t? He’d given her the keys to the club, to his home and to his heart. Although she didn’t know about that last one. He’d only recently discovered it himself. And he knew that, Lucy being Lucy, there was nothing he couldsayto convince her.

His brain revved into top gear—this was one case he was absolutely determined to win. He’d prove beyond any kind of doubt exactly how much he believed in her.

SIXTEEN

Intense emotions strongly influence you

‘Why don’tyou go and see him?’

‘Who?’

‘Daniel.’ Sinead glanced at her from between her legs as she performed some scary stretching exercise. ‘You know he’s been in the bar every night this week. Sitting there. Looking grim. Scaring away the customers.’

‘Has he?’ Lucy hoped she sounded uninterested. ‘You haven’t told him I’m here, have you?’

It was time she moved. Sinead’s sofa wasn’t that comfortable. And despite the fact they’d rekindled their friendship working together, Lucy still felt bad for imposing on her. But she couldn’t seem to drag her sorry self away. She took a risk and walked past the bar. Every muscle clenched when she saw the small ‘for sale’ sign in the door window already had a red ‘sold’ sticker stuck across it. It would probably have a name change and be turned into some dive. What did she care? That was the death knell. Because she did care and she couldn’t stay in Wellington with him here. She packed her meagre belongings into her beat- up blue car. She’d go to another city, get a job, earn money and open her own club one day. And stay single. For ever. Because she was never putting her heart in this position again.

She flipped though radio stations until she found one that she could cope with and turned the volume up loud. Her car spluttered up the hills and coughed round the corners. Nervous about its life force, she turned the stereo and air con off to allow all power to be directed to the engine.

She finally saw the sign for Martinborough. Wine town of the North Island. She’d grown up in the wine town of the South Island—Blenheim. She drove slowly, enjoying the perfect uniformity of row upon row of vines. There’d be some work here she could handle—at least for a while. Sell some wine to some tourists in one of the many vineyard cellars, or waitress in one of the restaurants. Sommelier season—she’d done it on numerous occasions and had reams of experience.

She pulled in and parked along the main street. It was only eleven in the morning and a hot sunny day, but she felt tired and jaded and heartsore. She’d do the rounds tomorrow and look up old employers to see which one she wanted to revisit for a couple of months. She wasn’t up to a bright-eyed sell-yourself routine just yet. She went into the supermarket and picked up a couple of items from the deli and bought a bottle of water. She walked down to the grassy square where at festival time crowds came and enjoyed food and wine and conviviality. Today there were a few people dotted around eating lunch in the shade of the trees. She found a vacant spot and spread her jacket out, using it as a rug. She picked at the bread, cheese and salami and eventually gave up in favour of a lie down, closing her eyes in an attempt to doze.

It was a bad idea because all she ever saw when she closed her eyes at the moment was Daniel. All she felt was the memory of his body, his smile, his sparring… and his intensely perceptive eyes. She lay, eyes closed, daydreaming of him—holding onto the picture of him at peace and laughing beside her, inside her—preferring her life in a half-dream where things were right and she was with him, to opening her eyes and the reality of being alone.

She swatted at the fly tickling her cheek. It landed again. She waved her hand again, opened her eyes. Looked straight into gold.

Daniel crouched on the grass next to her; his face leaning over hers, a blade of grass between his fingers—her annoying fly.

He looked sombre. ‘You don’t need me to help you sleep anymore.’

She jerked up to a sitting position. Had she just conjured him up from her imagination? No, he really was sitting there.

‘How thehelldid you know I was here?’ Had he put some kind of tracking device in her car?

‘I have friends in the force. They were keeping an eye out for your car.’

Worse than a tracking device, he’d set the cops after her. ‘That’s an abuse of power.’

‘You were lucky they didn’t pull you over and order you off the road, there was so much blue smoke coming out of the exhaust.’

‘What a waste of police resources. I’m amazed you asked them to do it.’

He sighed and flicked the blade of grass from his fingers. ‘I’m not here to argue with you, Lucy.’

‘Aren’t you? It’s what we do best.’

‘Like hell. This is what we do best.’

He pushed her back on the grass and planted his lips on hers in one movement.

Despite the force of his body pushing her down, his lips were gentle, testing her. She couldn’t stop her answer anyway. Pleasure, delight, sad longing.

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