Undressed by the Boss (Mills & Boon By Request) (31 page)

‘Families, huh?’

She saw the pity in his eyes even as he tried to make light of her admission and it annoyed her.

She didn’t need his pity.

She didn’t need anyone’s pity.

She’d done a fine job taking care of herself all these years and apart from Lana she knew better than to depend on anyone, especially some guy who thought he could get around her with smouldering grey eyes and a sexy smile.

‘The way you said families, sounds like you have a tale of your own to tell,’ she said, determined to deflect his attention away from her morbid past.

She noticed the slight tightening around the corners of his mouth, the tense jaw muscle near his ears, though his smile didn’t waver.

‘Not much to tell, I’m afraid. My folks are both historians. I travelled the world with them while I was young before dad took over as CEO of the museum. He ran it for twenty-five years before asking me to step in temporarily.’

‘Keeping it all in the family,’ she said, surprised by the flicker of bitterness in his eyes.

‘Something like that.’

They’d reached the entrance to the ballroom where the auction was being held and a round of introductions to a group of people she had no hope of remembering stalled any further probing on her part.

For that was exactly what she’d been about to do: delve into Aidan’s past. He had a story to tell, she could sense it. What better way to gain insight into the guy than by discovering his background? Besides, it was much more fun than dwelling on her family life—or lack of.

‘Want to check out what’s on offer?’

‘I already did.’

Her gaze perused the length and breadth of him before sending him a coquettish look from beneath her lashes.

He laughed, a low rumble of pure joy that sent a thrill through her. ‘See anything you fancy?’

‘Sure do,’ she murmured, mentally moving his butt to the top of her very own grope-able list. ‘Though I’m not sure if it’s in my price range?’

The fine hairs on the nape of her neck stood to attention as he leaned closer, his breath fanning out against her cheek.

‘There’s only one way to find out. Why don’t you put in a bid? You never know, you might get lucky.’

Everything faded away—the muted light from wall sconces dancing off sequinned designer dresses, the soft classical music filtering from a high-tech sound system, the drone of voices from a thousand-odd people—as his lips brushed her cheek in the lightest of touches, so light she could’ve imagined it. Or willed it, more likely.

Caught in the heat of his stare, the spicy blackcurrant undertones of his aftershave invading her senses, she struggled not to close the short gap between them and do what she’d wanted to do since their first memorable kiss—a repeat performance.

‘Get lucky, huh? I’m counting on it.’

Her words came out on a whisper as his fingertips slid up her arm, skimming her bare skin like the touch of the flimsiest butterfly wings taking flight.

‘If this evening wasn’t so damn important for the museum I’d say let’s blow this place.’

Stifling a sigh of disappointment at his CEO conscientiousness, she tapped his cheek lightly. ‘Don’t worry. The night is young.’

He sent her a scorching look that set her body tingling all the way down to her metallic blue toenails poking from her Gary Castle silver spiked stilettos, but before he could say anything further a guy bearing a striking resemblance to Harrison Ford in
Indiana Jones,
complete with battered hat, bore down on them and practically dragged Aidan away.

Grinning at his pained expression, she sent him a jaunty wave and headed for the front of the room where a roped-off area kept curious buyers away from the more expensive items.

Professional pride filled her as she stared at her latest triumph, a mini version of the Sydney Opera House, her very own interpretation of the iconic landmark.

‘The least you could’ve done is rescue me. You’re supposed to be supporting me, remember?’

Beth turned to Aidan, surprised he’d returned to her side so quickly.

‘I didn’t think you needed rescuing. After all, don’t you CEO types need to mingle and schmooze and generally suck up to people?’

He frowned, as if her teasing hit too close to home.

‘You’re right. CEOs probably do have to do that sort of thing, which is why I’d rather spend the bulk of the evening with you.’

A warm glow filled her. Apart from the steamy attraction between them, she genuinely liked him and what had looked at first glance like a novel way to secure her lease and help Lana out was fast turning into something far more important with a certain scary twang in the vicinity of her heart, the type of twang that said she could seriously dig this guy if she let go.

Flustered by the uncharacteristic surge of emotion clogging her throat, she gestured towards her sculpture.

‘What do you think of this piece?’

He screwed up his eyes, tilted his head first right, then left, before taking a step back and repeating the process. ‘Not my sort of thing. Too modern.’

The tender emotion of a moment ago melted away as she absorbed the critical look on his face and came to a startling realisation.

His opinion mattered to her.

He’d hurt her.

Which could only mean one thing: she could be falling for him.

Madness, considering they wanted different things out of life: confirmed nomad versus wannabe homebody. A match made in heaven: not.

Desperate to ignore the surge of panic telling her to make a run for it while she still could, she forced a laugh.

‘Of course it’s too modern for you, considering you’ve spent half your life rummaging in the dirt looking for old stuff.’

Something in her tone must have alerted him to the fact she wasn’t as unaffected by his opinion as she’d like to be, for he captured her chin in his hands and tilted it up gently until she had no option but to stare into his disgustingly gorgeous eyes.

‘What’s up?’

‘Nothing.’

She dropped her gaze before he read the lie there, only to be confronted by his equally gorgeous lips, the lips that felt exceptionally good plastered against her own.

‘This isn’t the time or place,’ he said, in a voice like smooth velvet as he skimmed his thumb along her bottom lip for a moment before letting go as if he’d been burned. ‘But, trust
me, if you look at me like that later tonight I won’t be held responsible for my actions.’

Grateful they’d slipped back into flirting mode, she quirked an eyebrow and tapped his chest with a French manicured fingernail.

‘Haven’t you heard? Being responsible all the time is highly overrated.’

Flecks of speckled cobalt flared amidst the dreamy grey depths of his eyes as a confident smile curved his lips. ‘I’m all for forgetting my responsibilities for a night.’

Splaying her palm on his chest, she absorbed the heat radiating through his dress shirt before sliding her hand down and tucking it around his elbow as if that had been her intention all along.

‘And I’m all for being the one responsible for you forgetting. But don’t we have an auction to attend first?’

Muttering a curse, he tucked her hand closer and headed into the ballroom at a half-run.

She laughed. ‘If you’re in a hurry because you can’t wait to get me alone later, I like the way you think.’

He stopped dead and she bumped into his side, relishing the all-too-brief contact of one half of his body slamming against hers.

‘I’m hoping you’ll like a lot more than that.’

He slipped a protective arm around her waist as his smouldering gaze sent a thrill of anticipation through her. ‘In fact, I’m counting on it.’

Beth couldn’t think for a moment, what with his hand nestled comfortably around her waist, his thumb strumming back and forth, and the intent in his eyes notching up her excitement levels to unbearable.

Moistening her bottom lip with her tongue, and enjoying the fleeting tortured expression that flickered across his face, she dropped her voice to a whisper.

‘The faster you bid, the faster we get to the good stuff.’

With a muffled groan he released her. ‘Come on, quit dawdling.’

She chuckled, the confident sound of a woman who knew what she liked in a man and how to get it, as Aidan all but dragged her into the ballroom in a fair imitation of a sedate sprint.

‘Y
OU
should’ve told me.’

Beth unlocked her front door and pushed it open, flinging a mischievous look over her shoulder with a toss of her silky blonde hair. ‘Why? I knew you’d find out soon enough.’

Shaking his head, Aidan followed her into the cavernous warehouse, hoping the inside was a lot more inviting than the bleak exterior.

‘You got that right.’ He blinked as she flicked on switches, flooding a suspended wooden walkway in light. ‘Unfortunately, I get to find out that my newest wannabe tour guide is actually a star sculptor when I see her name on the programme, and how much her art is worth rather than hearing it from the sculptor herself.’

She chuckled, the throaty, full-on laugh he’d grown way too fond of way too quickly.

‘It’s your fault. I was going to tell you before you wrinkled your uppity nose at my best work in ages and said it was “too modern”.’

His mouth twitched as he feigned indignation. ‘There’s nothing uppity about my nose and I definitely didn’t sound like Barry White on steroids when I said it was too modern.’

Unfortunately, he thought, considering most women were into that soul-deep crooning-voice thing, as he followed her down the walkway before stepping down a small flight of stairs into a room the size of a small aircraft hangar.

She laughed and crooked a finger over her shoulder, beckoning him to follow. As if he needed to be asked twice.

‘Some place.’

He did a three-sixty, taking in the eclectic mix of rippled steel ceiling, white-washed stone walls, honey-coloured wooden slat blinds over monstrous windows and the largest, brightest splashes of paint passing as pictures hanging on the walls at various spots throughout the warehouse.

‘I like it.’ She headed into a tiny kitchenette at odds with the size of the rest of the place. ‘What would you like to drink?’

‘Coffee’s fine. Black, one sugar, thanks.’

He headed over to a spotlit corner featuring a giant Japanese screen inlaid with the finest mother-of-pearl cherry-blossom motif. It was a work of art and he couldn’t help but run his fingertips over the exquisite work.

He missed the fieldwork, missed the excitement of searching, the thrill of discovering ancient items of beauty. Things like this screen were made for the world to appreciate yet the closest he got these days was staring at priceless pieces behind the glass of a museum cabinet with the rest of the public rather than touching and feeling and experiencing the sheer rush of finding a beautiful artefact.

He couldn’t wait to get back out there and the sooner Abe returned from his R & R, the sooner he could get back to the digs.

‘If you like the screen, wait till you get a load of what’s behind it.’

She joined him, handing over a mug of steaming coffee
before stepping around the screen and jerking her head to indicate he should follow.

‘This is where I work. Though I guess it’s not really your thing, being so
modern
and all.’

‘Give a guy a break,’ he said, sipping at his coffee, wondering whether the jolt of energy coursing through his veins came from the caffeine rush or the sight of Beth picking up pliers and a shiny sheet of steel, caressing the metal with the kind of touch she’d reserve for a lover.

‘I’ll think about it.’

She shot him an impudent smile before gripping the metal with the pliers and twisting it into a star with origami-like precision.

‘You’re very talented.’

He drained his coffee and placed the mug on a sideboard before joining her at the workbench. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about all this? Really?’

Her hands stilled, the pliers looking surprisingly delicate resting in her palm despite their size and function as she raised her eyes to meet his.

‘Because it wasn’t relevant to my job and that’s what you’ve been pretty focussed on every time we’ve talked before our chat at Brunetti’s.’

She was right.

She was brash, funny, exuberant and obviously thought he was the opposite considering her nickname for him. She thought he was a pedantic workaholic who was too focussed on the museum. Sadly, she was absolutely spot on. He never used to be that guy, but he was these days and for what? To prove something to a man who probably wouldn’t notice if he danced naked on top of the Sphinx?

When she didn’t respond, he sat down on a stool next to her and picked up a miniature wrought-iron basket. ‘Being your boss and all that entails hasn’t given you a very good impression of me, huh?’

She gnawed on her bottom lip and he struggled to ignore the surge of lust at how much he’d like to do the same.

‘Actually, you’ve been pretty great about everything.’

‘But you think I’m judgemental.’

Hell, he’d probably reacted to her work exactly how she’d thought he would. Though she didn’t say the words, he remembered her disappointment when he’d commented on her show-stopper at the auction before she’d masked it with her usual quick wit.

‘Not really,’ she muttered, lacking total conviction, and he drifted towards a nearby bookcase constructed from twisted metal and glass, grasping at a change of subject.

Scanning the shelves, he was surprised by the strange mix of anatomy and psychology texts next to classic literature.

‘Bit of light reading?’

She swivelled to face him, wariness clouding her eyes. ‘Just some stuff I read in my teens while trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life.’

His eyebrows shot up. ‘You read
Gray’s Anatomy
in your teens?’

She shrugged and fiddled with the pliers, twisting a metal sliver into a pretzel. ‘I was gifted.’

She dropped the bombshell in the same monotone a kid might use to request a peanut-butter sandwich.