His Irresistible Darling
Read His Irresistible Darling Online
Authors: Sarah Randall
Falling for her boss…
Pippa can’t believe her luck. Not only has she landed a job as a PA in a Dubain firm for her final year at uni, but she’ll also be working for Jumal—an old friend of her brother’s, who she’s had a childhood crush on since for ever. It should be perfect—twelve months of sun, sand and swooning over the boss!
The reality isn’t quite so glamorous. Not only is her employer demanding and uptight, he’s also considerably older than her and engaged to somebody else. It’s hopeless. He’s weighed down by expectation and responsibilities, while she is feisty, carefree and full of fun. They are simply not supposed to be together.
But when Pippa’s twenty-first birthday night out ends unexpectedly in a sinister twist, Jumal knows he has to protect his friend’s little sister at all costs. When he moves her into his apartment to keep her close, could filing for the boss turn into a fling with him after all?
His Irresistible Darling
Sarah Randall
SARAH RANDALL
lives with her family in Lancashire and firmly believes that woman can survive on a diet of hot bubble baths, chocolate, red wine and a good romance book—preferably all at the same time.
To my husband, the finest runner of bubble baths, procurer of chocolate and pourer of the vino. I love you like orange Smarties.
For the written record, I accept full responsibility for the police incident in France.
Je suis tres desole!
Can’t wait for our own senior “gap” year and I promise to keep the helpful driving suggestions to myself.
To my Mum and Gemma – the best Guinea Pigs ever!
Contents
“PIPPAAAA!!!”
In the chart of “Pippa Darling’s Top Ten Bad Decisions” this one was right up there. Not number one, oh no, but definitely right up there and definitely ahead of number five, featuring the time she’d borrowed her brother’s ten-day-old Porsche for a trip into Leeds for an evening lecture and introduced it to a beautiful ancient oak tree. The car was a write-off, she was fine, but the proud oak still bore the scars and she insisted on yelling an apology to him each time she drove by. In at number four was the time she ignored her mother’s warning and decided that DIY tanning was absolutely the way to go before her high school graduation prom. A non-mover at number three consisted of a teenage break-up with Jimmy Stears (as a direct result of the aforementioned DIY tanning incident) and a night where a bag of giant chocolate buttons, a tube of Smarties (okay, three tubes of Smarties), a jug of premixed mojito and a mobile telephone were never going to be a good combination. Drinking and dialling: lesson learned. A new entry at number two would be her decision to come and spend months away from her home and her family in the oppressive heat of the Middle East, truly bonkers for a country girl more used to the frigid winds of the North York Moors, but still not enough to take the coveted number one spot held by a non-mover for the last, oh, four-hundred-odd weeks. Arguably a crush wasn’t really a conscious decision though…right? It was just an annoyance, like that Bryan Adams song—
“PIPPAAAA!!!”
Pip rolled her eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh as she pushed back from her computer desk with both hands and briefly looked to the heavens. Over the last couple of months, she’d grown to hate her name when it was being yelled at the top of her boss’s voice. Even if said voice, when not bellowing at her, was the sexiest panty-wetting accent she had ever heard and could cause her body to have chills even in the aforementioned heat of the midday sun. Damn the man, aka “The Crush”.
“Huh,” she said, pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose and peering over her desk at her friend and co-worker sitting opposite. “Care to take a guess at what I’ve done or haven’t done this time?” Standing, she straightened her pencil skirt and grabbed her pad and pen. “Do you think if I ignored him he might go away?” she asked wishfully, tapping the pen against her chin.
Melina looked up from her screen and offered a supportive tight-lipped smile. “Good luck, honey. We’ve got an office sweep going on who’ll kill the other first and with what office implement, so don’t let me down. I went with Miss Darling, in his office, with a blow to the head using the hole punch!”
She strolled down the short hallway, passing the large glass-fronted boardroom and pondered why she’d ever reasoned that working for Jumal Aldabbagh would be such a coup. Maybe she’d hit her head harder than she thought when she’d fallen from her horse last Christmas. It would explain a lot, like why she couldn’t stop having naughty thoughts about the bloody annoying man, despite her best efforts. Was there a pill to take for it?! Seriously, weren’t crushes supposed to be over and done with once you were out of your teenage years?
She let out a short humourless laugh and shook her head as she recalled their meeting last December when she’d used her powers of persuasion and excellent negotiation skills to convince Jumal to take her on for her year working in industry as part of her degree.
“Please, please, please, please, pretty PURLEEEASE, Jumal,” she’d begged, while jumping around him like a caffeine-addicted Tigger.
“No,” he’d responded curtly.
But no Darling would give up that easily.
Unperturbed, she’d continued, “But you’d be getting an almost business graduate as your PA for free, and I know Greta’s left you in the lurch.” She’d tilted her head. “Please.” She’d batted her lashes shamelessly.
“No.”
“Why not?” she’d pressed, hands on hips, stepping directly in front of him to stop his escape.
“Because I don’t want to and I don’t have to explain myself.”
She’d continued to bounce around him as he’d tried to dodge her and walk away.
“But it would be good PR for your company. You know, a good deal and you being supportive of young business talent.” So okay, she’d been blowing her own trumpet slightly, but she’d continued undeterred. “And it would show everyone who hates you—” she’d paused at his icy questioning stare and held her hand up “—in a purely business sense of course,” she’d added quickly, “that you are in fact human.”
She’d grabbed his forearm to stop his long stride. “Please, you won’t regret it. I promise.”
She only had herself to blame, she thought, coming back to the present and taking a deep, soothing breath, not bothering to knock as she entered his large office. “You called, sir?” She knew he hated it when she called him “sir” so of course she did it all the time. She pushed her glasses back up on the bridge of her nose in a useless attempt to distract herself and calm her racing pulse. The glasses made her look even younger than she was, or so she’d been told. She just hoped that it meant he wouldn’t yell at her for quite so long this time. She closed the door behind her so that the whole office wouldn’t have to hear today’s rant. Then again, an open door would give her a quicker escape route…
“What’s this?”
She jerked her head back up to see Jumal pointing to his laptop screen, not even bothering to look up and acknowledge her presence.
Look at me, notice me,
she begged silently, but quickly cut off her ridiculously needy thoughts.
She closed the distance, ignoring the fabulous twinkling of the Persian Gulf vista from the top of his glass empire. At times when Jumal was out of the office, she loved standing at his floor-to-ceiling tinted windows to try to make out the tall buildings of Dubai across the Gulf. Dubai was always busy with a mixture of smaller local fishing boats, dwarfed by the larger luxury yachts of the fabulously wealthy inhabitants of Dubain and its close neighbour. There were huge super tankers ferrying oil from the terminals, and of course the city-sized naval ships in the docks of JAA Enterprises just up the coast.
Just a few more months then you’re done,
she chanted to herself.
And then you can cause him bodily harm,
she added with satisfaction, knowing that Luke, another one of her brother’s friends, who was reputed to be the best criminal lawyer in London, would surely enter a successful plea of diminished responsibility.
Jumal finally lifted his head and narrowed his eyes in annoyance, interrupting her murderous musings. “What are you smirking at?”
“Oh. Er, sorry, sir. What did you say?” she asked, shaking her head.
“I said, ‘What. Is. This?’” He emphasised each word individually, pointing at the screen again like she was an imbecile.
She bit her lip and managed to stop herself from replying, “Why, it’s a C.O.M.P.U.T.E.R, sir.” Instead she continued around to his side of the desk.
She peered over his shoulder, lowering her head to see his work calendar. “What am I looking for exactly, sir?” God the man smelt divine. She was powerless to do anything but close her eyes and just breathe him in. Was that just his soap?? She pried her eyes away again, trying to ignore the way his dark hair curled ever so slightly at the collar of his crisp white shirt. Gripping her hands tightly together to stop them from unconsciously reaching out to run her fingers through the dark curls, she guessed he was about due for a haircut. She made a mental note to arrange it.
“Why have you booked Mr Ansari to see me at four today? Why didn’t you check with me first? I have plans,” he barked at her, as he finally turned his head and really looked at her for the first time since she’d walked in. She lost all conscious thought for a moment. Surely she shouldn’t be noticing the specks of gold in his dark green eyes? Shocked, she jerked her head up and away from him. She’d often wondered where he’d inherited his green eyes from until she’d met his mother, a classical European beauty, whilst Jumal’s father had the classic dark hair and brown eyes of most Arab men. Pip had always thought that Jumal was the perfect mix of the exotic and… Oh right, yeah, he was waiting for her to reply.
She cleared her throat in an effort to get her mind off his glorious genetics.
“Well, I er, didn’t know that you had plans. There was nothing in your diary when I made the appointment for Mr Ansari,” she countered, nodding towards his screen. “And he was very appreciative of you seeing him at such short notice. Did you know that it’s his—”
“That’s not the point, Pippa,” he interrupted gruffly, swinging his chair around so that his knees bumped her legs.
She startled and straightened her posture, taking a defensive step back, still clutching her pad to her chest as armour… Or was that a weapon perhaps?
She bit at her lip. “Should I cancel him?” she asked, bowing her head slightly, silently pleading that she wouldn’t have to call and cancel the appointment. Her mother had always laughed at her young daughter’s need to make people happy, but of course she had never known the real motivation behind her daughter’s actions. Pip had always hated confrontation. It brought back painful childhood memories she’d fought long and hard to hide from her family. She would try everything to avoid feeling the disappointment of others, and since arriving on the small independent Gulf island of Dubain, she’d already taken a real shine to Mr Ansari and his large, exuberant and friendly family. They reminded her of her own family, before life had been so cruel to the Darlings.
She slowly raised her eyes from the floor to watch his face closely as he contemplated his decision. Tick tock.
He let out a quick breath. “No. Leave him in the diary. I’ll see him,” he finally agreed. “Just check with me before making any more diary appointments over the next week or so. I’ll be in and out of the office for the next few days tying up the Dubai deal.”
