“You don’t look like the type to indulge in fanciful dreams,” Dylan teased.

“Maybe I prefer to indulge in fanciful dreams at night?”

Spurred on by the urge to match wits with him, Samantha took a sip of her coffee and feigned innocence. “What you do at night is no concern of mine.”

“Would you like it to be?”

Resisting the urge to grin, she said, “Depends. I thought I’d worked enough nights lately. There’s only so much typing, filing and bookkeeping a girl can take.”

“I wasn’t talking about work.”

Nicola Marsh says, “As a girl, I dreamed of being a journalist and traveling the world in search of the next big story. Luckily, I have had the opportunity to travel the world, but my dream to write has never been far from my mind. When I met my own tall, dark and handsome hero, and learned that romance is everything it’s cracked up to be, I finally took the plunge and put pen to paper.

“I live in the south-eastern suburbs of Melbourne with my husband, and a baby on the way. When I’m not writing, I work as a physiotherapist for a vocational rehabilitation company, helping people with disabilities return to the workforce. I also love sharing fine food and wine with friends and family, going to the movies and my favorite—curling up in front of the fire with a good book.”

Books by Nicola Marsh

HARLEQUIN ROMANCE®

3810—THE TYCOON’S DATING DEAL

3818—THE WEDDING CONTRACT

Hired by Mr. Right
Nicola Marsh

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

SAMANTHA PIPER needed this job, more than she’d ever needed anything in her entire twenty-five years. OK, so maybe she’d tampered with the truth, changed her surname and taken a crash course in subservience, but it would be worth the price. In fact, she would have done a lot worse to gain employment as Dylan Harmon’s butler.

‘So, what do you think?’ Sam pirouetted in front of her best friend, Ebony.

‘Honestly? I think you’re nuts.’

‘Why? Doesn’t the uniform fit? Does it make my backside look too big?’

Ebony rolled her eyes and snorted. ‘Oh yeah, like anything could make you look huge! Puh-lease!’

Sam sat down on the part of anatomy in question. ‘You’re probably right. I am nuts but this is what I want to do. The least you can do is support me.’

Ebony wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. ‘Hey, who’s been your biggest fan all these years? And who gave you a crash course in “bowing and scraping, butler-style”? Not to mention a glowing reference.’

Sam smiled. ‘Point taken. Let’s just hope that I remember your tips when it comes to the crunch.’

‘Oh, when’s that? When the dashing Dylan asks you to hold his warmed towel as he steps from a hot shower, water sluicing down his great bod, from his broad shoulders to his—’

‘Stop!’ Sam clamped a hand over her friend’s mouth. ‘If I wasn’t nervous before, now I’m petrified.’

‘Since when has any guy intimidated you? Supergirl Sam, able to leap tall men and their hang-ups in a single bound.’

‘If you’re referring to my archaic father and his cronies, yeah, I can usually handle them. I hope Dylan Harmon proves to be just as easy.’

Ebony chuckled. ‘I’m sure your five hunky brothers would love to hear you describe them as cronies.’

Sam wrinkled her nose. ‘To you, they’re hunks. To me, they’re major pains in the rear end.’

‘Whatever.’ Ebony glanced at her watch. ‘Isn’t it time you left? Wouldn’t want to miss your flight and be late on your first day.’

Sam noted the time on her bedside clock and grimaced. ‘Wish me luck. I’m going to need it.’

Ebony hugged her. ‘You’ll be fine. Just remember everything I taught you and it’ll be a cinch.’

‘That’s what I’m afraid of.’

Since when had her life been easy? Sam had bucked the system for as long as she could remember, ignoring the old-fashioned views of her parents who were still caught up in the ancient fairy-tale of their royal blood. So she was descended from Russian royalty? Big deal. The more her family treated her like a princess, the more she wanted to rebel. When her five older male siblings joined her parents in reinforcing her ‘duties’ as the only princess in the family she’d been pushed over the edge. And the result? A three-month contract in Melbourne as Dylan Harmon’s butler, as far as she could get from Queensland, family constraints and their expectations.

What better way to shun family ties and prove her independence than accept a position as some rich boy’s servant? Not that she’d told them that. Instead, she’d spun them some lame story about meeting a prospective husband through her friend Ebony and they’d bought it. In fact, her parents had practically pushed her out the door when she’d mentioned the possibility of matrimony to such an influential man as Dylan Harmon. After all, what better way to ensure royal heirs than matching their princess daughter with the prince of Australia’s landowners?

‘Good luck, honey, you’ll be fine. And remember, ring me if you need anything.’ Ebony blew her a kiss as she walked out the door, leaving Sam alone with her thoughts.

Picking up her bag and scanning the room one last time, Sam hoped to God her best friend was right. Everything would be fine, as long as she kept her mind on the job and Dylan Harmon didn’t treat her like the rest of the females in his sphere. She’d had enough of egotistical, overbearing men to last her a lifetime and she had it on good authority that he was one of the best. Defying her brothers was one thing, gaining the upper hand with one of Australia’s most eligible bachelors would be another entirely. Not that his good looks would intimidate her. She loved a challenge in any shape or form and handling the likes of Dylan Harmon shouldn’t be a problem.

Now all she had to do was believe it.

Dylan Harmon stepped from the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist and reached for a razor. While shaving, he heard the bedroom door slam and assumed it was the new butler his mother had hired. Not that he’d needed one but Liz Harmon seemed hell-bent on making his life easier these days.

‘Is that you, Sam? I’ll be out in a minute.’

Splashing aftershave on his face, he wondered what sort of man his mother had deemed suitable. Sam Piper must be a jack-of-all-trades, as his mum believed he needed someone to lend him a hand in all facets of the business. If he hadn’t been so pig-headed, she’d have hired someone a long time ago. They’d argued about his workload for far too long and he’d finally given in, knowing that his mother’s interference sprang from concern rather than any great desire to rule his life.

Strolling into the bedroom, he came face to face with a woman. Not just any woman, but a delicate waif wearing a navy blue uniform with the Harmon coat of arms over her left breast. Once his gaze strayed to her chest he had a tough time wrenching it back, for the evidence of her femininity, combined with the uniform, could only mean one thing.

‘Hi. I’m Sam Piper. Pleased to meet you.’ The woman held out her hand and he continued to stare, taking in her short blonde curls, wide green eyes and heart-shaped face. He wouldn’t call her beautiful but there was something he glimpsed in those eyes, some indefinable quality he recognised as class.

He shook her hand, surprised at the firmness of her grasp. ‘You’re the new butler?’

She gave a quaint little bow. ‘At your service…sir.’

He noted the cheeky pause, the twinkle in her eye. ‘Call me Dylan. Though it won’t be for long.’

She straightened her shoulders. ‘Why is that?’

‘Because you’re fired.’ He turned away and headed for the wardrobe, wondering what had possessed his mother to pull a stunt like this.

‘If you’re looking for the charcoal suit, white silk shirt and maroon tie, they’re hanging on the back of the door.’

He stopped midstride and turned around, surprised that she seemed unperturbed by his putting an abrupt end to her employment. In fact, she hadn’t moved an inch and didn’t seem at all concerned, when most women he knew would be cowering in the face of the famous Harmon wrath. ‘How did you know?’

She shrugged and he noticed the stubborn set of her shoulders, the clasped hands in front of her body. ‘You’re a man of habit. You always wear that combination on a Wednesday.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Been studying me, have you?’

‘Call it research. All part of the job, sir.’

‘Don’t call me that!’ he snapped. He strode across the room and picked up the clothes, wondering when he’d become so predictable. ‘What are you still doing here? Didn’t you hear me before?’

‘I heard you but I’m not going anywhere.’

He stared at the waif. Rather than being intimidated, as most people were around him, she met his gaze directly, not flinching an inch when he moved towards her. ‘Care to repeat that?’

Sam squared her shoulders and silently wished for an extra few inches. It was difficult to look threatening when she had to tilt her head back to stare her new employer in the eye, though it provided her with the perfect excuse to stop ogling his near-naked body. Her gaze had been drawn to his towel too often for her liking and she needed something, anything, to distract her. ‘You can’t fire me. I’ve signed a three month contract.’

A dangerous glint shone from his eyes, the colour of molten chocolate, and she mentally chastised herself for comparing them to her favourite food.

‘Contracts can be broken.’ He took a step closer, making her all too aware of his broad, bare chest merely centimetres from her own.

Resisting the urge to run her hands over his muscular pecs and see if they felt as firm as they looked, she struggled to maintain composure. ‘I had an intensive interview. I’m sure your mother can vouch that I possess all the necessary skills for this job.’

His gaze perused her body, leaving her in little doubt as to what skills he thought she possessed. ‘So, you think you’ve got what it takes to be my butler?’ He quirked an eyebrow, as if daring her to agree.

Sam bit back a smile. Dealing with Dylan Harmon would be child’s play after facing her brothers’ inquisitions for the last umpteen years. ‘If you’re after someone with the right attitude, the right qualifications and a genuine love of the job, then yes, I’m your woman.’

Her breath hitched as he smiled at her and she wondered where the helpless, fluttery feeling deep in her gut had come from. She’d never reacted to any man like this, especially one who obviously turned on the charm when it suited him.

‘Okay, Miss Piper. Consider yourself on trial for the next three months.’ He tipped up her chin and stared directly into her eyes. ‘But if you make one wrong move, you’re out.’

Sam battled the urge to shut her eyes and block out the hypnotic intensity of his stare. Instead, she took a steadying breath, wishing her erratic pulse would calm down. As a waft of expensive after-shave hit her she clenched her teeth, wishing her traitorous senses would stop misbehaving. So the guy had a great body, soulful eyes, a killer smile and smelled good enough to eat? She’d dated better and come away unscathed.

Then why the jittery feeling that just wouldn’t quit?

‘Call me Sam.’ She turned away before she did something stupid, like manhandle her boss on the first day.

‘Samantha.’

She knew that tone, the one that most males got when they’ve been beaten and don’t want to give in too easily. So he wanted to prove a point by calling her Samantha? No big deal. At least she’d survived his attempted sacking and it had proved to be a lot easier than expected.

‘Can I get you anything?’ She fiddled with the clothes he’d laid on the bed, hoping he’d send her on an errand that involved being as far away from him and his skimpy towel as possible.

‘Actually, yes. Your first job can be to reorganise my underwear drawer. I want it colour coded, neatly arranged and segmented for every day of the week.’ His accompanying smirk, casual stance and quirk of an eyebrow left her in little doubt as to the challenge he’d just laid down. He wanted to make her squirm and, strangely enough, the idea of touching his underwear was doing exactly that.

Heat flooded her cheeks, though she bit back a host of retorts that sprang to mind about what he could do with his underwear. ‘Fine.’

‘Oh, while you’re at it, please choose me something to wear today. Under my suit, that is.’

Sam risked a glance over her shoulder. She could have sworn he was laughing at her. However, he stood in the middle of the room, hands clasped over the front of his towel, trying his best to look innocent. She almost snorted at the thought.

Sam stalked across the room, opened the top drawer of the dresser and rummaged around. To her surprise, the first undergarment she laid her hands on was a thong. Leopard print, no less!

Stifling a grin, she hooked it with her index finger and held it out to him. ‘Perhaps this would be suitable for today?’

His jaw dropped. There was no other way to describe it, for she’d never seen a guy with so much poise look so totally and utterly shocked. ‘But that’s not mine!’ he said, a look of distaste marring his handsome features.

‘Oh? It’s in your drawer.’ The corners of her mouth twitched as she struggled to maintain composure.

‘Are you calling me a liar?’ He placed his hands on his hips and glowered as the towel around his waist slipped an inch.

The action distracted her and, for one horrifying yet thrilling moment, she thought it might slide down his legs and pool on the floor, along with what was left of his dignity.

Before she could reply, he hitched the towel up, strode across the room and snatched the offending garment out of her hand. ‘Give me that! Meg’s been up to her tricks again.’

Sam should have known. Meg was probably five-ten, of perfect proportions and had just stepped off the pages of Vogue. ‘One of your conquests?’ she couldn’t resist adding, though what he did in his private life shouldn’t concern her in the slightest. Funny though, it did.

‘My wayward niece,’ he snapped, ‘who takes great delight in tormenting me.’

‘Way to go, Meg,’ she mumbled, thrilled at the thought of any woman getting the better of her suave boss.

‘I beg your pardon?’

Resisting the urge to imitate his plummy tone, Sam schooled her face into what she hoped was a mask of respect. ‘Nothing. Should I get started on my first assignment?’ She pointedly stared at the thong in his hand.

‘Forget it.’ He scrunched and flung it across the room, where it landed neatly in the bin. ‘As of now, your duties will consist of business affairs only. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. Consider this room off-limits.’

Fine with her. The less time she spent around the semi-naked tyrant, the better. In fact, everything about the job had worked in her favour to date and she hoped her luck would hold out.

Fixing a placating smile on her face, she nodded. ‘Certainly. Where would you like me to start?’

He stared at her for an interminable moment, before turning away and heading to the bathroom. ‘Meet me in the study in fifteen minutes. We’ll discuss today’s agenda then.’

Feeling suitably dismissed, she gave a mock salute behind his back and headed for the door.

‘Oh, Samantha. There’s one more thing.’ His commanding tone halted her and she swivelled to face him. ‘Lose the uniform.’

‘Now?’ The response slipped out before she knew it, typical of the feisty banter she was used to exchanging with her brothers’ friends, who were like family. However, Dylan’s response was far from familial.

He strolled across the room and leaned a hand on the door, effectively barring her escape. ‘Since when did the hired help get so provocative?’ His gaze skimmed her face before dropping lower, sending her heart galloping at breakneck speed.

‘Since when did the employer think he could ask questions like that?’ She stilled as he reached towards her and ran a finger down her cheek, sending her nerve endings haywire in the process.

‘Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to answer a question with a question?’ His finger dropped away as it reached her jaw and, strangely, she missed his brief touch.

‘No, but she taught me to stay away from men like you.’ She tilted her chin up, determined not to let him see how he affected her.

‘Men like me?’ He folded his arms, drawing attention to his broad, naked expanse of chest.

Her mouth dried as her gaze strayed to his pecs, noting a light smattering of dark hair that attracted rather than repelled. Swallowing, she looked him in the eyes, hoping her interest didn’t show. ‘You know. Egotistical, over-confident, world-beaters. Used to getting what they want and letting nothing or nobody stand in their way.’

He smiled, the self-satisfied grin of a cat toying with a mouse. ‘Didn’t know I was so transparent. Lucky my butler has a degree in psychology as well as servitude. What other talents are you hiding?’

Sam bit back a host of retorts. Thankfully, her mouth and brain had finally decided to work in sync. ‘None. Now that we’ve got you sorted out, perhaps I should make a start on the rest of that servitude stuff and organise breakfast in the study for our meeting?’ She had to escape and soon. Having her sexy, bare-chested boss standing too close for comfort was doing strange things to her insides. Not to mention addling her brain.

The warmth drained from his face in an instant and she wondered at the abrupt change. ‘Fine. See you there.’

He opened the door and she brushed past him on her way out, wishing he didn’t look and smell so darn good. Just her luck that her new boss would be thirty-something and gorgeous rather than ancient and decrepit like most of the rich landowners in Australia.

‘One more thing, Samantha.’ His serious tone stopped her.

‘Yes?’ She turned to see him framed in the doorway, looking every bit the consummate millionaire, even without clothes.

‘Welcome to the Harmon world.’

Before she could respond he closed the door, leaving her with a distinct feeling that while he’d welcomed her to his world, he’d just turned hers upside down.

Dylan stalked into his mother’s sitting room after a brief knock on the door.

Liz Harmon looked up from the newspaper she had spread across the table. ‘Good morning, darling. Sleep well?’

With a perfunctory nod, he sat opposite her. ‘I met the butler.’

His mother’s face lit up. ‘Isn’t Sam wonderful? She came highly recommended.’

‘From where? Butlers-R-Us?’

‘Don’t take that tone with me, young man. What seems to be the problem?’

Dylan fiddled with the knife-edge crease of his trousers. ‘She’s totally unsuitable. Too young, too feisty, too—’

‘Beautiful?’ Liz interrupted. ‘You did notice, didn’t you, or has all work and no play made you a dull boy?’

A vision of Sam flashed into his mind, those startling green eyes staring at him as he’d touched her silky-soft cheek. Thankfully, she’d been looking at his face and not lower, where the evidence of how she’d affected him would have been plain to see beneath the cotton towel.

‘I noticed,’ he said, wondering if it sounded like the understatement of the year. ‘Though what her looks have to do with it, I’ll never know. It’s her qualifications I’m interested in.’

Liz nodded and gave him one of those knowing smiles, the kind she’d been bestowing since he’d eaten his first bug against her instructions and thrown up, at four years of age. ‘She came highly recommended. I spoke with Ebony Larkin, her main referee.’

His eyebrows shot up. ‘She’s worked for the Larkins?’

Liz nodded. ‘Trust me, darling. I wouldn’t have hired just anybody to be your butler. I know how much you need the help.’

‘I’m doing fine on my own, Mum.’

‘No, you’re not. Between running the business, inspecting the lands around Budgeree and looking after the family, you’re worn out.’ She paused and he waited for the inevitable reference to his single status. Predictably, his mother didn’t disappoint. ‘Besides, you never have time for fun any more. When are you going to meet a nice young woman to make your life complete?’

‘My life is complete and I like it just the way it is, thanks very much.’ He ignored the swift rising bitterness whenever the subject of women entered their conversations. He’d tried the relationship merry-go-round and had hopped off as soon as humanly possible, managing to get his heart trampled in the process. As far as he was concerned, women and serious commitment didn’t belong in the same sentence, especially with females who looked good, had the right family credentials yet lied through their expensively-capped teeth to get what they wanted. Which, in his case, happened to be the Harmon name and fortune.

And he’d worked too damn hard to let his family’s wealth fall into unscrupulous hands.

‘You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, Son. You’ve taken this business to the next level all on your own.’

‘But Dad would’ve wanted more.’ Hell, his ambitious father wouldn’t have stopped till he owned the whole of Victoria and then some.

‘He would’ve wanted you to be happy, not running yourself into the ground.’ She didn’t have to add, like he did.

His workaholic father had taken the word ‘work’ to new levels, driving himself to skyrocketing profit margins but into an early grave in the process. Dylan still missed him after ten years.

‘Besides, don’t you think you’re taking the role of family protector a tad too seriously? Most of us can take care of ourselves, you know.’

Dylan rolled his eyes. ‘Yeah, sure. Then why is Meg running around placing racy underwear in my drawer? And why is Allie traipsing round the world like a lost soul?’ He stared at his mother, noting her wrinkle-free skin, the clear eyes, the black hair with barely a grey streak. ‘Not to mention you.’

The corners of Liz’s mouth twitched. ‘Your nieces are more than capable of taking care of themselves. Besides, what have I done?’

He tried a frown and failed. ‘You’re trying to matchmake yet again. And I’m not interested.’

His mother smirked. ‘I’m not trying anything. If you’ve got romantic thoughts where the new butler is concerned, that’s not my doing.’

‘The butler?’ Sam Piper and him, romantically linked? Not a hope in hell. He shook his head, trying to ignore her alluring image again. ‘No, Mum, I was talking about Monique and that dinner party you’ve organised. Didn’t you think I’d see through the ruse?’

This time Liz laughed outright. ‘You’re getting paranoid, love. There’s no ruse, no hidden agendas. I just thought it was time we got together with our oldest family friends. If you find Monique attractive, that’s up to you.’

Funnily enough, the thought of spending a sophisticated evening dining with the exquisite Monique Taylor and her parents didn’t hold half the appeal it once had. He’d grown up with the leggy brunette and had dabbled in a kiss or two once they’d reached their late teens, but he’d never been interested in taking it further. Though Monique was beautiful, educated and attuned to his world, there was no spark to light his fire. Not that she hadn’t tried, many times.

Dylan relented. ‘Okay, it will be nice to catch up with the Taylors but, just to let you know, there won’t be any romance between Monique and I, ever. She isn’t my type.’

His mother was no slouch when it came to matchmaking her only son and she latched on to his last words in a flash. ‘Oh? Then what is your type?’

A petite woman, with short blonde curls, green eyes he could drown in and a cheeky smile that just wouldn’t quit. The thought popped unbidden into his mind and, for the umpteenth time in the last half hour, he wondered if he’d lost a grip on reality since he’d laid eyes on his new butler.

He stood quickly and made for the door. ‘Bye, Mum. I have a meeting scheduled.’

Liz smiled knowingly. ‘Run all you like, Son, but you can’t hide from love for ever.’

Dylan refrained from answering. The day he fell in love would be the day he surrendered his sanity and he had no intention of doing that. He had too much to do yet to fulfil his dad’s wishes, the one driving force that kept him going these days.

Him, in love? No way.

CHAPTER TWO

SAM paced the study while waiting for Dylan. She couldn’t believe the way she’d reacted to him—stupid, stupid, stupid! She’d known what she was letting herself in for when she had applied for this job. After all, she’d heard about Dylan’s charms firsthand from Ebony, whose family had known the Harmons for ever. Ebony had extolled high-and-mighty Dylan’s virtues for a full hour before Sam had covered her ears and yelled ‘la-la-la’. If she’d heard one more word about the rich, handsome, responsible, caring man soon to be her boss, she would’ve thrown up.

So, she’d steeled herself for the challenge at hand, knowing that Dylan’s looks would have little effect if she set her mind to doing a good job to prove a point to her snobby family. She’d focused all her energy on taking a crash course on butler etiquette, Ebony-style. Thankfully, her best friend had come through for her in every way, going as far as giving her a fake reference when Liz Harmon had called after the gruelling interview she’d endured.

Now that she was here at the Harmon mansion in the posh Melbourne suburb of Toorak, she should be ecstatic. If she could last the distance in this job it would prove to her family once and for all that she could eke out an existence for herself, without their prehistoric expectations for her to marry and produce heirs to continue the royal line. Not that her title meant anything here in Australia; in fact, most of her Russian ancestors had reneged on their royal heritage a century ago, but not her family. They were hell-bent on resurrecting the past and restoring glory to the Popov name. Strangely, many historians here were interested in the Popovs too, which was why she’d had the sense to change her surname when applying for this job.

‘So much for obeying orders.’

Sam jumped as Dylan’s voice interrupted her musings and she whirled to face him. ‘I’m here on time, I’ve kept out of your bedroom and breakfast is waiting.’ She gestured to the sideboard. ‘What else did you want?’

He strode across the room and helped himself to a piece of toast and a cup of coffee before sitting behind a large mahogany desk. ‘I thought I told you to lose that uniform.’

She frowned, as memories of their intense exchange in his bedroom flooded back. ‘I don’t think we agreed on that.’

‘You’re right. We didn’t get to finish that conversation, did we?’ He stared at her over the rim of his cup and she could have sworn she read desire in his eyes.

Great. Despite her mental pep talk a few minutes earlier she still harboured ridiculous fantasies where her spunky boss was concerned. He could have any woman in the world and she thought she’d captured his interest in half an hour? Yeah, right.

‘I thought all your staff wore uniforms.’ She tried her best to look demure, clasping her hands behind her back. How she’d last more than a week in this subservient act, she’d never know. For some strange reason this man brought out the worst in her. She felt compelled to trade quips with him, to ruffle his oh-so-suave feathers, to get the better of him in any exchange.

He placed his cup on the desk and rested steepled fingers on his chest. ‘Not my personal assistant.’

‘I’m your butler, not your PA.’ Somehow, the title of PA conjured all sorts of vivid images of how personal she could get with the delectable Dylan.

‘You’ve just been promoted. If you’re up to it, that is.’

He’d done it again, known exactly how to push her buttons. As if she would ever back down from any challenge he threw at her.

‘So you’re that impressed with me, huh?’

He shook his head. ‘No need to fish for compliments, Samantha. I’ve read your résumé and I’m intrigued. Why would a woman with a degree in economics want to work as a butler? And, even better, work for a man with a reputation for being a hard taskmaster?’

She squared her shoulders and hoped that the little white lies she had to tell to keep this job wouldn’t show on her face. ‘I enjoy a challenge. Working for someone with your vast experience in the business world will be a bonus, if and when I decide to enter that field.’ She hoped her answer would satisfy his curiosity—when in doubt, flatter.

He quirked an eyebrow. ‘You’re not some kind of spy, are you?’

Sam sighed. ‘Your mother checked out my credentials and I’m sure you’ve discussed my appointment with her by now. What do you think?’

‘I think that if you’re half as good as your résumé says you are, you’d be perfect as my PA. So, what do you say?’

Okay, she wasn’t completely stupid. Being Dylan’s personal assistant would be a heck of a lot more interesting than bowing and scraping to him and a lot less damaging. After all, she had a lot less chance of seeing him almost naked as his PA than as his butler. ‘I accept. Thanks for the opportunity.’

He nodded his approval. ‘Good. Now that’s settled, let’s get started. I need to dictate some letters that need to be sent ASAP. While I do that, you can sort through this pile of invoices. In monthly and alphabetical order please, with the most urgent bills to be paid uppermost.’

She took the pile and seated herself opposite him, thankful for the huge desk. No chance of accidental contact across a great divide of mahogany, though there’d been nothing accidental about the way he’d caressed her cheek earlier that morning. Though she tried to concentrate on the task at hand, she couldn’t resist sneaking a peek as he spoke into a Dictaphone, his low tones soothing her. He’d dressed in the outfit she’d predicted earlier, though it looked a heck of a lot better on the man than on a hanger.

Visions of their morning interlude drifted into her mind and, before she knew it, she’d mentally undressed him down to the skimpy towel he’d worn as he’d strolled into his bedroom looking a million dollars. How she’d managed to maintain composure, she’d never know. At least those boring drama classes at high school had been good for something. Old Mrs Lincoln would have been proud of her You don’t affect me one bit performance she’d given Dylan that morning.

At that moment, the man in question hit the ‘stop’ button and looked up.

‘Having trouble keeping up?’ He pointedly stared at the pile of invoices in front of her and raised an eyebrow.

Fighting a losing battle with a rising heat that flooded her cheeks, she shook her head. ‘Sorry. I was just thinking.’ Lame, even by her standards, but what could she do when the object of her lustful fantasy was glaring at her with those dark eyes that screamed, Come and get me?

‘About what? Some old boyfriend you’ve left behind in Sydney?’

‘I’m not from Sydney.’ She responded without thinking and, predictably, he pounced on her answer.

‘But I thought you’d been working for the Larkins?’ His stare intensified, leaving her squirming like a bug under a ten-year-old’s magnifying glass in the sun.

Crossing her fingers behind her back, she hoped her voice remained steady. ‘I was, but I’m from Brisbane originally.’

‘Ah.’ Before she could breathe a sigh of relief, he continued, ‘So, what about the boyfriend?’

For a moment, she hoped he was asking out of interest in her as an available woman, before reality set in. The likes of Dylan Harmon would never be interested in the hired help, unless it was for one thing. And she had no intention of making that bed or lying in it.

‘You’re my boss, not my owner. My private life is none of your business.’ She folded her arms in a purely defensive gesture, wishing she could ignore that probing stare. Unfortunately, her action drew his stare downwards before he quickly returned his gaze to her face.

‘That’s where you’re wrong. You’ll be spending a lot of time travelling between our outback property and Melbourne, with little time off for socialising. I need to know that you’re one hundred per cent committed to this job. Otherwise, I’ll find someone else.’ He picked up a pen and tapped it against the desk, as though impatiently awaiting her answer.

Though it went against the grain, she had to tell him about her private life—or lack of one. She needed this job and she hadn’t come this far to lose it now. ‘There’s no one special in my life at the moment. You’ll have my entire focus for the time I’m employed.’

His face softened at her response. ‘Good. I need all your attention…for the tasks at hand.’

His pause, combined with the subtle change in body language as he leaned towards her, sent her imagination spiralling out of control again. She stared at him, caught in the hypnotic intensity of his smouldering eyes, wanting to look away yet powerless to do so. If she didn’t know better, she could have sworn that he felt the bizarre attraction she’d conjured up out of thin air too.

‘Are you free tonight?’

She blinked and resisted the impulse to nod like a schoolgirl being asked out on her first date. ‘That depends on you.’

He smiled, the rare flash of brilliance illuminating his face and sending her heart hammering in her chest. ‘Oh, really? How so?’

Ignoring her pounding pulse and wondering how she could control her treacherous reactions to her handsome boss, she said, ‘I didn’t know the hours I’d be expected to work. Your mother suggested I discuss it with you.’

‘So, if I say I need you tonight, you’re mine for the evening?’

Oh-oh. She didn’t need this sort of encouragement. Her overactive imagination was doing fine on its own, thank you very much, without help from his innuendo.

She cleared her throat. ‘As your butler, I would’ve expected to work evenings. As your PA, I thought most work could be accomplished during the day.’

His smile broadened, if that were possible. ‘Not for what I have in mind.’

Thankfully, the intercom buzzed on his desk, saving her from answering. She took a deep breath and wondered if he played word games with all his female staff. Was he actually flirting with her or was her limited experience with men rearing its head?

Dylan hit the speaker button. ‘Yes, Mum?’

Liz Harmon’s voice filtered through the intercom. ‘I was wondering if you could spare Sam for a moment? I need to discuss a few things with her.’

He looked up at his new personal assistant, who had her head bent over the stack of invoices and was sorting them into several neat piles as if her life depended on it. ‘Sure, as long as it doesn’t take too long. I’ve upgraded her position from butler to PA and we have a mountain of work to get through.’

His mother chuckled. ‘This, from the man who said he didn’t need help?’

He studied the way Sam’s hair fell in loose curls around her face, the slight frown that marred her smooth forehead, the flicker of her tongue as it darted out to moisten her top lip. He’d noticed she’d done that earlier, when he’d first strolled out of the bathroom and seen her standing in his bedroom, and several times since; he assumed it was a nervous reaction, though it sure as hell drove him crazy every time she did it. How could such an innocuous movement elicit the wayward thoughts he’d been experiencing about what the gorgeous Sam’s tongue could be doing to him?

‘Dylan, you still there?’

Wrenching his thoughts out of the gutter, he replied, ‘Yes, Mum. I’ll send Samantha right up.’

‘Thanks. Oh, and by the way, you’re welcome.’

He smiled as his mother’s chuckles petered out and he disconnected. ‘Leave those for now. You can get back to it later.’

Sam looked up and, once again, the luminous green of her eyes hit him like a blow to the solar plexus. It wasn’t the colour so much as the clarity that shone like a beacon, beckoning him to challenge her, taunt her, flirt with her, anything to get her looking at him with more than a passing interest from an employee for her boss. That was what had prompted him to offer her the job as his personal assistant—the more time she spent in his company, the more chance she might look at him with the spark he’d glimpsed when he’d caressed her cheek that morning. That one, fleeting flare of fire in her eyes had aroused him more than any other woman had in a long, long time.

She stood up and he had a chance to admire the snug fit of the uniform. He had a real hankering to see her without it—hell, he wished he could see her trim body with nothing at all—but, right now, he’d settle for anything else in her wardrobe. For some strange reason she had too much poise, too much class, to be wearing a uniform and he didn’t need any reminder of her status as his employee. If he had his way she’d be far more than that by the end of her three month stint; it had been far too long since he’d had a lover.

‘About my working hours?’

He resisted the urge to shake his head; ever since she’d walked into his life this morning, his mind had been enveloped in a fog that clouded his every thought. Even now, he could barely remember what they’d been discussing before his mother had interrupted.

‘We’ll discuss it later.’ He waved her away, noting the stiffening of her shoulders, the straightening of her spine. Once again, it hit him that she didn’t like taking orders and he wondered what on earth had prompted her to take this job. Something about Sam Piper didn’t ring true and, lovely as she was, he had every intention of finding out exactly what secrets she hid behind that sexy façade.

‘Fine.’ She nodded before turning on her heel and walking towards the door, giving him free rein to ogle her slim legs and tantalising butt.

Though she’d said everything was fine, he seriously doubted it. Her rigid posture screamed that it wasn’t, not by a long shot. And, if his confused libido were anything to go by, he’d have to agree.

Sam slowly exhaled as she closed the study door. She must be insane to contemplate going through with her plan if she couldn’t even last the morning in Dylan’s company. Heck, could he see how she practically swooned when he smiled at her? And, as for his asking if she was free tonight, she’d had to restrain herself from leaping over the desk and straight on to his lap!

Men had never affected her this way; she’d always managed to keep her relationships strictly platonic, preferring male friends to the groping Neanderthals that some of her dates had turned into at the slightest encouragement. Even some of the ‘pillars of society’ that her brothers had set her up with had turned out to be marauding sex maniacs and she’d managed to avoid their embarrassing advances with aplomb. So maybe that made her naïve when it came to men, but did it totally explain her over-the-top reaction to Dylan?

What made him so special that every self-preservation mechanism she’d ever used seemed to malfunction whenever he so much as looked at her? Whatever it was, she needed to get a handle on it quick smart. Heck, that was all she needed, her new boss to think she had some childish crush on him.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door to Liz Harmon’s sitting room.

‘Come in, Sam.’

Sam opened the door, wondering what the older woman could want. After the initial interview they hadn’t crossed paths, though she’d taken an instant liking to the elegant Liz.

‘You wanted to see me, Mrs Harmon?’

Liz waved towards a chair. ‘Take a seat, child. And please, call me Liz.’

Keeping her surprise from showing, Sam perched on the overstuffed chair and folded her hands in her lap.

Liz reached for a leather-bound book on a nearby table and opened it. ‘I know all about you, dear.’

She fixed Sam with a piercing stare, leaving her in little doubt as to what she meant. Sam clenched her hands till the knuckles whitened, trying to buy valuable time to compose an answer that wouldn’t incriminate yet sounded honest at the same time.

However, Liz continued before she had the chance to speak. ‘There was something about you that looked familiar at the interview, so I followed a hunch. I’m a great fan of history, you know.’

In that instant, any hope Sam harboured that the older lady was just fishing for information vanished. Schooling her features into a polite mask, she said, ‘I can explain—’

‘Please.’ Liz held up her hand. ‘Indulge an old lady for a moment.’ She flicked a few pages before stopping at what looked like a family tree and tracing a line with her finger. ‘You must be Princess Samantha Popov. Am I correct?’ She looked up expectantly, not a trace of anger on her face.

Sam didn’t know where to look, an embarrassed heat flooding her cheeks. She’d been caught out in her lie and on the first day! She nodded, not quite understanding the excited look on the other woman’s face. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry for lying to you but I really needed this job.’ She stood quickly, wishing the Persian rug beneath her feet would disappear and the ground underneath would open up and swallow her. ‘I’ll pack my things and be out of your way as soon as possible.’

Liz slammed the book shut, sending a cloud of dust into the air. ‘Don’t be hasty, child. We have so much to talk about.’

Sam shook her head in bewilderment. If Liz had appeared excited a moment ago, she now looked downright ecstatic. ‘I don’t understand. You want me to stay?’

Liz waved her back to the chair she’d just vacated. ‘Of course. I’m sure you had a very good reason for lying to obtain this job and I want to hear it. I also want to hear every last detail of your story, without a single omission.’

‘So, I’m not fired?’ Sam held her breath, praying for a miracle yet knowing they rarely happened, at least to her.

‘Fired? My dear, you’ve just made my day.’

‘How so?’

Liz grinned, the expression on her face rivalling that of a child on Christmas Day. ‘If my son thought finding an attractive woman as his butler was a surprise, wait till he finds out I chose him a princess to boot!’

Sam’s heart plummeted. If Dylan found out her background she’d be out of the Harmon mansion so fast her head would spin. She needed to stay, at least till the trial three months were up. Anything less and her family wouldn’t be convinced she could make it on her own and she’d be back to square one, enduring their rigid conditions and stipulations regarding her life.

Right now, she needed to convince Liz Harmon that keeping her identity a secret was the best thing for all concerned, even if it meant keeping it from her precious son. Taking a steadying breath, she looked up and met the older lady’s gaze directly. Seeing the twinkle in her eye, she hoped to God that Liz wanted in on the secret, otherwise she’d be back in Brisbane and pledged to some ancient groom before she could blink.

Tied to some fossil in matrimony because it suited her royal parents and their antiquated ideas? Uh-uh.

Liz leaned forward. ‘Start at the beginning, dear. And tell me everything.’

Resisting the urge to grimace, Sam did as she was told.

CHAPTER THREE

SAM hated confusion. She preferred order, precision and being in control. However, as she joined Dylan for a late night supper in his study so they could continue working, she knew that her preferences had flown straight out the window following her meeting with his mother. Rather than berating her for lying and sacking her, as she’d expected, Liz Harmon had almost clapped her hands in glee as Sam regaled her with a truthful account of her life to date. In fact, the older woman had been only too pleased to keep Sam’s secret so she could continue in her farcical role as Dylan’s PA.

But why? Sam needed to know people’s motivations; it was the only way to stay one step ahead. However, she had no intention of giving Liz Harmon the third degree when the woman had done her a huge favour. In fact, for someone who barely knew her, Liz had accepted her version of events with few qualms. In her place, Sam knew she wouldn’t have been as trusting.

‘Daydreaming again?’

Sam jumped as Dylan strode into the room and wondered if she’d ever get over the fluttery feeling in her gut whenever her boss came within ten feet of her. In over a week, her absurd physical reaction to the man hadn’t dimmed one iota. If anything, her responses made her want to do all sorts of wild and wicked things, such as strip off and lay across his desk! Maybe then she’d have some hope of grabbing his attention, for that was all he seemed interested in—the endless stream of paperwork crossing his desk, taking up every minute of his day.

She must have imagined his flirtation and innuendo on her first day, for he’d lived up to his reputation as a cold, calculating business tycoon ever since. In fact, his love for the family business bordered on obsession and she wondered if he ever loosened his tie, took off his shoes and took a stroll barefoot in the lush gardens surrounding the mansion. By the serious look on his face as he glared at her, she doubted it.

‘Daydreaming is healthy. You should try it some time.’ She noted the tense neck muscles, the lines around his mouth, the smidgen of dark rings under his eyes and hoped that her banter might lighten his mood.

He piled a plate with club sandwiches and grabbed a caffeine-laden soft drink from the sideboard before responding. ‘Who says I don’t?’

‘You don’t look like the type to indulge in fanciful dreams.’ Heck, he couldn’t look any more uptight if he tried. He wore a different suit, shirt and tie for every day of the week, each outfit expertly tailored but boringly conservative and she’d yet to see him with a hair out of place. Except that first morning in his bedroom—though she’d managed to effectively block out that provocative memory.

He quirked an eyebrow. ‘Daydreams are wasted. Maybe I prefer to indulge in fanciful dreams at night?’

Sam looked up quickly, wondering if she’d imagined his lowered tone, the slight husky edge. He stared at her, dark eyes unreadable, as he took a casual bite out of a tuna and mayonnaise sandwich. She swallowed, trying to ignore the sudden wish that she could replace the sandwich as his supper. She wouldn’t mind him nibbling on her, not one little bit.

Spurred on by the urge to match wits with him, she took a sip of her coffee and feigned innocence. ‘What you do at night is no concern of mine.’

‘Would you like it to be?’

Damn, he was good. Just when she thought she’d got the better of him, he sent her a loaded comeback like that.

Resisting the urge to grin, she said, ‘Depends. I thought I’d worked enough nights lately. There’s only so much typing, filing and bookkeeping a girl can take.’

‘I wasn’t talking about work.’

‘Oh?’ Her heart hammered in her chest as she tried to hide behind her coffee mug. She loved playing games, especially with a man as sharp as Dylan and she wondered how far she could push it, though every ounce of common sense urged her not to match wits with her boss.

‘You’ve been doing a great job, Samantha. I’m pleased with your work and you’ve hardly had a night off since you started. How would you like a tour of Melbourne by night?’ He devoured the last of the sandwiches, concentrating on his plate as if her answer meant nothing to him. However, she noticed he ran a finger around the inside of his tight collar, a gesture she’d noted only when he seemed rattled.

She smiled, her heart threatening to burst out of her chest. ‘Sounds great. Know any good tour operators?’

He looked up and fixed her with a piercing stare, the chocolate depths of his eyes drawing her in, deeper than she’d ever been or intended to go. She could drown in those eyes, spend a lifetime floundering in their mysterious warmth.

‘Why settle for good when you can have the best?’

‘You’re that confident, huh?’

‘You’ll just have to try me and find out.’ He smiled, that killer smile she’d rarely glimpsed since the first day, yet her response had intensified tenfold.

She knew accepting his invitation wasn’t a good idea. It sounded suspiciously like a date and she had no intention of getting involved with her boss. As if her life wasn’t complicated enough. However, she did want to see Melbourne and what better way than a personal tour with a man who set her pulse racing? If the scenery bored her, she could always cast surreptitious glances his way.

‘Okay. I’d like that.’ Who was she trying to kid? She almost had to sit on her hands to prevent herself from clapping like an excited child.

‘Good. I’ll make the arrangements and let you know.’ He stared at her for a moment and, from the intense look in his eyes, she thought he might say something else. However, he merely cleared his throat and picked up a stack of contracts. ‘Let’s get back to these. Now, where were we?’

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.