Praise for Michelle Douglas

“Packed with a smouldering tension and underlying passion, The Loner’s Guarded Heart by Michelle Douglas will leave readers wanting more … [It] is a keeper that I will treasure. If you are a reader who loves tender, heartfelt stories then this book is a must-buy, because it has all those elements and so much more.”

—www.cataromance.com

“Michelle Douglas makes an outstanding debut with His Christmas Angel, a complex, richly emotional story. The characters are handled especially well, as are the many conflicts and relationships. This one’s a keeper.”

—RT Book Reviews

A squeal from Bella alerted Dominic to an incoming rogue wave.

He grabbed her hand and hauled her out of its path, his arm going around her waist to half lift her. Breathless and laughing, she grinned up at him.

The breath shot out of him. His grip on her tightened. She stilled. He could read the question in her eyes—was he going to kiss her?

Would she let him?

When she didn’t move away he had his answer.

Heat surged through him, the temptation pounding at him like the surf breaking on the reef. Bella would taste divine. He wanted to bury his face in her neck and inhale her, and then he wanted to capture her lips in his and devour her slowly, thoroughly. He wanted to memorise the curves of her body with his hands. He—

Icy water hitting his feet and ankles brought him back to earth and made Bella jump, breaking the spell.

About the Author

At the age of eight MICHELLE DOUGLAS was asked what she wanted to be when she grew up. She answered, “A writer.” Years later she read an article about romance writing and thought, Ooh, that’ll be fun. She was right. When she’s not writing she can usually be found with her nose buried in a book. She is currently enrolled in an English Masters programme for the sole purpose of indulging her reading and writing habits further. She lives in a leafy suburb of Newcastle, on Australia’s east coast, with her own romantic hero—husband Greg, who is the inspiration behind all her happy endings. Michelle would love you to visit her at her website: www.michelle-douglas.com

Bella’s

Impossible Boss

Michelle Douglas

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To Annie,

for all the coffees, caramel doughnuts

and Black Russians.

Thank you!

CHAPTER ONE

SHE was going to be late.

Late. Late. Late.

The heels of Bella’s shoes snapped out the word with every step, rebuking her, condemning her, telling her she would never measure up. She glanced at her watch and told herself to stop being absurd. She’d make the meeting exactly on time. She was being paranoid, that was all.

Still, she shouldn’t have stopped to talk to Charlie. Or Emma. Or Sophie and Connor. She picked up her pace.

Failure. Failure. Failure.

What on earth had she been thinking?

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

She clenched a hand. Given what she’d overheard last week, she should’ve been more careful. She should’ve kept a closer eye on the time. She wanted to change her father’s opinion of her, not reinforce it.

Spoiled, willful, doesn’t have the sense of a goose! Bella doesn’t know the meaning of the words ‘dedication’ and ‘hard work’. That was what her father had said on the phone to her aunt in Italy last Wednesday. Bella had accidentally picked up the extension in the kitchen to ring out.

And it’s my fault. She’d heard that before she could silently replace the receiver into its cradle.

She slowed to a halt, her throat constricting. The pain that had raked through her father’s voice … She closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall. Oh, Papa, I’m sorry.

To know she’d disappointed him so badly, hurt him. Again.

And to think he blamed himself.

She pushed away from the wall and straightened. She’d changed. The last eighteen months in Italy had seen to that. She would prove herself to him. She would make him proud of her.

As if to reassure herself, she rifled through the colour-coordinated folders she carried and then slapped a hand to her forehead. She’d left the sample menus in the canteen kitchen with Charlie!

She glanced at her watch and then tapped a foot. She could continue on to her father’s office and be on time. Or she could race back down to the canteen, grab her menus and prove to her father and his right-hand man, Dominic Wright, how fabulously organised and creative she was and be a teensy bit late, which her father expected anyhow.

Organisation, creativity and proof of her dedication versus punctuality? Muttering an imprecation, she spun on her heel and sped back the way she’d come. Pulling in a breath, she started to jog. She rounded the corner, heard the faint ‘ding’ of the lift in the distance and broke into a run. She sprinted around the next corner …

‘Hold the lift!’

But the lift doors closed before she could reach them. She pressed the button on the wall one time, five times, but the doors didn’t open. The light above informed her that the lift had started its descent. She slapped a hand to the wall. Darn!

Pulling in a breath, she pushed her shoulders back. Okay, she could kiss her menus goodbye for the moment, but hopefully her colour-coordinated folders would at least give the impression of organisation and creativity.

She swallowed. As long as no one quizzed her too deeply about the contents of said folders. Katie, her father’s secretary, had sent the main file through to her only last night with a pleading, For all you hold sacred, please don’t tell your father how late I am on this! Bella hadn’t had time to do more than print the file off. She’d reserved this afternoon for poring over its contents.

She glanced at her watch. If she put her skates on, she wouldn’t be late to the meeting after all.

She put her skates on.

Professional, she lectured as she sped down the corridor. Chin up, shoulders back. She had to exude confidence and competence. Especially competence. She had to prove to her father that his faith in her wasn’t misplaced.

If he actually had any faith left in her.

She pulled in a giant breath as she was ushered into her father’s office. She took one look at him and had to fight the urge to rush across and kiss his cheek, to envelop him in a hug and tell him how much she loved him and how much she had missed him while she’d been in Italy.

Professional. She had to be professional. Kissing him, hugging him, would not earn her his respect. Especially as he wasn’t alone. She gripped her folders more tightly and resisted the superstitious urge to cross her fingers. She didn’t need superstition. She needed a chance to prove herself, that was all.

Marcello Luciano Maldini turned to her. ‘You’re late!’ he snapped.

She glanced at her watch and raised an eyebrow.

He glanced at his watch and scowled.

Oh, how she wished he would smile!

He didn’t smile. She did. She was so glad to see him. She was so glad to be here. She was so grateful to him for this opportunity. She did her best to not make the smile too broad, though. She did her best to make it professional and polite. ‘Good morning, Papa. If I am late, then I am most sincerely sorry.’

He blinked and for a moment she thought he might apologise for his gruffness, perhaps even admit that she hadn’t been late. He didn’t. He folded his arms and glared. ‘My secretary rang your mobile phone and left a message informing you that the meeting was to be brought forward fifteen minutes.’

She was late! And all because she’d turned off her phone so it couldn’t distract her from the most important meeting of her life.

She gripped her folders so tightly she broke a nail. ‘I’m sorry. I turned it off so it wouldn’t disturb my preparations for our meeting.’

Her father huffed out something she didn’t quite catch and turned away. All her old fears surfaced: Failure. Stupid. Fool. She did her best to beat them back.

‘Dominic, I would like you to meet my daughter, Bella Maldini. Bella, this is Dominic Wright.’

As the man turned towards her, she opened her mouth to say, ‘Pleased to meet you,’ but the moment her eyes collided with the Mediterranean blue of his, the words evaporated.

Dear Lord. Blue eyes shouldn’t make a girl speechless.

Nor should red hair.

But the combination …

She tried to expel the air held prisoner in her lungs. She hadn’t believed Catriona and Cecily when they’d said he was gorgeous and that he had red hair—tawny, red-gold, like a lion’s mane.

Don’t gape. Don’t gape. Professional!

She cleared her throat. ‘I’m, um … Pleased to meet you, Mr Wright.’ Her voice emerged high and strained, breathy. She bit back a groan. Where was professional?

‘Dominic,’ he corrected.

This was the man who held her entire future in his hands? Her white business shirt tightened around her ribs, constricting her breathing further. According to her cousins, Dominic—with his looks and his charm—was the most dangerous man in Sydney. Break-your-heart dangerous. They’d said he’d eat a little virgin like her for breakfast.

All silly, teasing nonsense, of course.

To be honest, he looked more like ‘scary boss’ material than the playboy Cat and Cecily had reported, and he was eyeing her up and down right now with those mesmerising eyes as if he could sum her up in all of ten seconds. As if she only had ten-second’s worth of value to sum up.

He didn’t say he was pleased to meet her. He didn’t smile.

With a super-human effort, she kept her smile in place. ‘For form’s sake, you’re supposed to say that you’re pleased to meet me, too, Dominic.’

His grin when it came was slow and crooked. It hitched up the right side of his mouth. The creases around his eyes deepened. The blue of his eyes intensified. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Bella.’

Just for a moment the room receded, and then with a roar it came rushing back. Uh-huh. So her cousins had been right, then.

Playboy—tick.

Heavenly, golden, gorgeous—tick, tick, tick.

Temptation personified—tick.

When Dominic held out his hand, she took it automatically. She couldn’t manage a single solitary syllable. His hand curved around hers and he simply held it.

Her pulse throbbed.

‘Delighted,’ he murmured.

She found her voice. ‘Absolutely.’

She tugged her hand free and went back to clutching her folders, did what she could to ignore the tingling that the palm-on-palm contact had triggered against her bare skin. For all his tawny goldenness and the warmth of his smile, he was known as The Iceman. And don’t you forget it!

It didn’t change the fact that he was the one man who could sway her father’s opinion. She would have to tread carefully.

‘If you’ve finished sizing each other up,’ her father said brusquely, ‘can we sit and get this meeting underway? Come—sit, sit.’ He shooed them to their seats.

From beside her, Dominic’s heat beat at her. She kept her eyes on her father. Professional.

Marco steepled his hands on his desk. ‘Dominic, I want you and Bella to work on the Newcastle Maldini,’ he said without further ado. ‘I want the pair of you to have it ready for the grand opening in eight weeks’ time.’

Triumph surged through Dominic. Years of training, though, ensured he didn’t betray that triumph by so much as a flicker of an eyelid. Taking charge of Marco’s flagship hotel was the first step in taking over sole management of the Maldini Corporation’s fledgling tourism arm. If the Newcastle Maldini proved a success, then plans for expansion would forge ahead—a chain of five-star Maldini hotels in all the major cities in Australia. After that, the international market—New York, London and Rome. The possibilities multiplied with exciting potential.

He’d wanted a change, needed it. Two and a half months ago he’d made his position clear to Marco—either a sideways move within the Maldini Corporation or he’d look elsewhere. Heading up the corporation’s tourism operations fitted the bill exactly. Marco had delivered on his promise and Dominic had every intention of ensuring the Newcastle Maldini not only met but exceeded Marco’s expectations.

He hadn’t counted on getting foisted with the boss’s daughter, though.

He glanced across at her and his gut tightened. She looked nothing like the plump, dark-haired child from the photograph that sat in pride of place on Marco’s desk. She looked nothing like the woman he’d imagined as he’d sat across from Marco at this very desk countless times in the past six years and listened as the older man had despaired of her. ‘You want Bella to work on the hotel?’ He didn’t try to hide his disbelief and scepticism.

Bella stiffened. Then she leaned towards her father. ‘You haven’t told Dominic about your plans for us to work together before today?’ Her mouth opened and then closed. She swallowed. ‘But you made that decision last week.’

Marco slapped a hand down on his desk. ‘I do things my way, young lady. This is my office and in my office my word is law.’ He stabbed a finger at her. ‘I’ll run my company the way I see fit!’

She sat back. ‘You didn’t tell him because you thought he’d refuse to work with me.’

Marco’s jaw worked but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. To himself, Dominic acknowledged the truth of her accusation. If he’d known about this a week ago, even two days ago, he’d have constructed every argument available against it. And Marco would’ve given way. Marco didn’t want to lose him.

He cleared his throat. ‘Marco, exactly what role do you envisage for Bella at the hotel?’

His employer heaved out a sigh, lifted a hand and let it drop. ‘Bella tells me she can create the restaurant of my dreams. Her expertise will be confined to the kitchens and dining rooms. You, of course, will be in charge of operations.’

He nodded. He hadn’t expected anything less.

‘And you, my girl—’ he turned to Bella ‘—will consult Dominic about everything.’

‘Of course.’

Dominic wasn’t fooled for a moment. Behind that lush mouth and those caramel melt-a-man-to-his-seat eyes, Bella was fickle, capricious and unreliable. Marco had given her countless opportunities to establish herself in a profession, but she had squandered all of them. Her seeming compliance was merely a pleasing façade for Daddy’s benefit. She might fool Marco, but Dominic had no intention of falling under the spell of that butter-wouldn’t-melt smile. He was not his father’s son.

‘She knows nothing about management styles or systems,’ Marco warned him. ‘All she knows is cooking and kitchens, so you’ll need to show her the ropes.’

Marco had to be joking, right? Bella wouldn’t stick to this job any longer than she’d stuck to anything else. Marco might be prepared to waste his time and expertise on someone who wouldn’t appreciate it, but Dominic had no intention of doing so.

He stared at Bella. She met his gaze unflinchingly. He glanced across at Marco, who gazed at Bella with all the love in his generous heart on display and something inside him started to ache. There weren’t too many people Dominic could claim to love, but Marco was one of them. His jaw tightened. He forced it to relax. For Marco’s sake, he owed Bella the benefit of the doubt, at least for the duration of this meeting. ‘Okay.’ He nodded. ‘You think Bella has something of value to offer the hotel?’

Marco straightened. ‘Bella,’ he clipped out. ‘Show us those menus you told me you’ve been slaving over. You said you’d have samples ready for today.’

She hesitated. ‘There’s a slight hitch with that, I’m afraid.’ She crossed her legs and smoothed out her skirt with an aplomb that almost stole Dominic’s breath. ‘I’ve left the menus in the canteen kitchen. I was discussing them with Charlie earlier.’

There was an awkward pause. Dominic schooled his lip not to curl. He doubted the existence of any such menus. The way Marco studiously avoided meeting his eyes told him Marco thought them products of Bella’s imagination, too.

‘I can run down to the canteen now and retrieve them, if you like. Or I can outline them to you verbally.’

While he was tempted to call her bluff, Dominic didn’t want her compounding lie with lie. He didn’t approve of her, but he didn’t want to embarrass Marco either. Marco deserved better than that.

He cleared his throat. Both Bella and Marco turned to him. ‘Why don’t we leave the menus for another day? There’s plenty of time.’ He nodded to the folders Bella held in her lap. ‘Why don’t you tell us what you’ve brought along instead?’ He hoped she had something there that would make Marco proud.

Her tongue snaked out to moisten her lips. Her fingers curled around the folders until her knuckles whitened. Dominic leaned back. The pampered princess didn’t have quite as much aplomb as he’d thought. She was nervous. Maybe he’d done her an injustice. Maybe this meant a lot to her.

‘The folders, Bella,’ he said gently. In his experience, folders meant show and tell. She wouldn’t have brought them along if they didn’t contain something that would show her off to good effect. He’d give her every chance to show off if it’d make Marco happy.

‘These aren’t anything particularly interesting.’

He didn’t trust that shrug. It was too studied.

‘These are simply the files my father sent me about the hotel, along with some information I’ve started to gather about Newcastle.’

She really had nothing? Did she seriously mean to take such blatant advantage of Marco?

‘I take it you’ve read the information your father sent you?’

‘Of course.’ But she didn’t meet his eye as she said it.

He crossed his leg and hoped it hid the sudden fury that coursed through him. ‘Off the top of your head can you tell me the number of staff you will have working under you in the restaurant?’

She moistened her lips. Again. He wanted to feel a savage triumph that he could succeed so easily in unsettling her. Only he was the one who was unsettled—by the beguiling fullness of her bottom lip, the shine there that beckoned to him.

‘I’m afraid I can’t remember that off the top of my head. I’ve only had a chance to scan the documents.’

He allowed his lip to curl a fraction. ‘I see.’ If Marco had made the decision about the hotel a week ago, Bella would’ve had the documents a week ago. He knew Marco.

She swallowed. A faint pink tinged her cheek. Dominic bit back something rude and succinct. ‘Then can you tell me what interesting pieces of information you’ve gleaned about Newcastle in the course of your research?’

Panic raced across her face. ‘I, uh … It’s the second largest city in New South Wales. It’s a coal port and … and its former prosperity came from its large steel works. And, um …’ She blinked rapidly. ‘And it’s known for the beauty of its beaches.’

‘So, in fact, you have nothing more than a general knowledge of the place?’

Her chin shot up at that. ‘I’m working on it.’

Her eyes did strange things to his insides. He hardened his heart. It’d be better for her to disappoint Marco now rather than later on. ‘Can I see your folders?’

‘Why?’

‘Indulge me.’

She glanced at Marco as if hoping he’d step in, but to Marco’s credit he remained silent. With obvious reluctance, she handed them over.

He flicked through the contents of the top folder. As she’d said, it held the information about the hotel. The printed sheets were so tidy it was obvious that they had yet to be disturbed by human hands. He shook his head. No wonder she couldn’t recall staffing numbers; she hadn’t read them to begin with.

The second folder held print-outs, clippings and brochures about Newcastle. At least she hadn’t been lying about that.

The last one …

‘That’s personal. I—’

He pulled out a lingerie catalogue. A lingerie catalogue! He smothered an oath. Marco had to see that Bella just wouldn’t make the grade on this one.

She snatched the catalogue from his hand. ‘A friend has a party-plan company. She asked me to take a look. I had nowhere else to put it.’

He didn’t doubt which reading material she preferred. He handed the folders back.

He found himself combatting a sudden weariness; a feeling of lethargy and emptiness. He tried to shake it off. ‘What qualifications do you have, Bella?’

Her eyes flashed fire. ‘If my father has no qualms in that area, then I don’t see what concern it is of yours.’

‘It’s my concern because I’m going to be ultimately responsible for the hotel’s success. Marco?’

Marco raised a hand and then let it drop. From beside him, he felt Bella flinch. It took all his self-control not to turn back to her.

‘For the last eighteen months my daughter has been working in her uncle’s restaurant.’

‘Were you in charge of its day-to-day management?’

‘On occasion.’

He shook his head and turned back to Marco. ‘This is never going to work. Bella simply doesn’t have the experience necessary for such a senior position.’

‘She’ll be able to pull it off with your help.’

He wanted to turn away from the pleading in Marco’s eyes. He owed the older man a lot, but to be party to Bella’s latest whim? A whim that no doubt would end in Marco’s disappointment and regret. He pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.

‘Maybe you’re right,’ Marco said. A sigh heaved out of him. ‘Maybe this is nothing more than an old man’s dream.’

Dominic glanced up. Before his eyes, Marco seemed to age.

‘No!’

Bella leapt to her feet. Dominic couldn’t do this to her. He couldn’t!

Her hands clenched about the folders. She stared at her father. That expression on his face! It reminded her of the time he’d seen her high school graduation results. ‘No Maldini has ever failed high school!’ Oh, that look—it had cut her to the quick. He hadn’t said anything else. He’d turned away. He’d cancelled what was supposed to have been a celebratory dinner. He’d gone out alone.

She couldn’t let him turn away now.

‘Don’t listen to Dominic.’ She slammed her folders down on his desk. ‘On paper I may not have the qualifications, but I have the heart and I have the talent.’ She prayed she had the talent.

She glared at Dominic. ‘How do you rate determination and talent, Dominic?’

He stared up at her. He hadn’t moved. Her heart pounded; she swore both he and her father must hear it.

‘Highly.’

She could tell he didn’t believe it, but …

‘I have both. In quantities that I promise will impress even you.’

He didn’t reply. She glanced at her father and her stomach tightened when she recalled the way his face had frozen when she’d confessed that she’d dropped out of university. He’d barely been able to look at her. It had made something inside her curl up and die.

That wasn’t going to happen now. She wouldn’t let it.

She swung back to Dominic. ‘Before she died, my mother’s dearest wish was that my father would one day create the hotel of his dreams. It was a dream close to both their hearts. It is a dream close to my heart. Papa—’ she swung to him ‘—you know this is true.’

It was the reason she’d badgered him to give her the opportunity to work at the Newcastle Maldini. She’d begged, pleaded and cajoled until he’d agreed. Dominic was not going to take that away from her.

She pulled in a deep breath. Before Italy she’d have agreed with Dominic’s assessment of her. Before Italy she’d never have dared take a risk like this. But her experiences in Italy had changed her. She’d found her passion. She’d found a talent—something she was good at. She’d discovered what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. She believed she had something to offer. Something good and true.

She trembled as she played her trump card. ‘Papa, Mama would want you to give me this chance.’

As she’d known it would, the mention of her mother defeated him. His shoulders sagged, he sighed and stared at Dominic. ‘It was my Francine’s fondest wish …’

It took all her courage to meet Dominic’s gaze. Would he back down? Would he relent and give her a chance to prove herself? His eyes were unreadable. His face could’ve been chiselled from stone, or ice.

‘You think you are up for this?’ he finally said, the soft threat of his voice sending a shiver of apprehension up her spine.

‘Yes.’ Somehow she made her voice strong.

He glanced at her father and just for a moment his expression softened. It hardened again when he glanced back at her. ‘You will work hard?’

That sounded less a question and more of a threat. She swallowed. ‘Yes.’

She refused to let her gaze drop from his, but she still didn’t have a clue what he was thinking. But those eyes, the bluest of blue, brought to mind hot, languid days on the Mediterranean … and hot, languid nights. Heat flowed into her cheeks, her neck, her breasts.

Very slowly, Dominic gave a smile. She didn’t know what that meant either. It wasn’t the kind of smile she’d ever been sent before. Without taking his eyes from her, he addressed her father. ‘Perhaps, Marco, Bella deserves your confidence? The final decision rests with you.’

‘You will work with my Bella?’

Dominic blinked and released her. She found herself breathing hard. For a moment she wasn’t sure where to look.

‘I will work with Bella if that’s truly what you want.’

Her father literally beamed at Dominic. It made her heart burn. Dominic received the beaming smiles for making the sacrifice to work with her, while she …?

‘And as long as Bella is sure that’s what she wants, too.’

The same soft threat threaded his words. Marco glared at her. She lifted her chin to hide her hurt. ‘Of course it’s what I want.’

Marco dusted off his hands. ‘There, that’s settled then.’

She swallowed. She would deserve those smiles soon, too, she swore silently. Her father would be proud of her. As long as she didn’t screw up.

Please, God. Don’t let me screw up.

CHAPTER TWO

DOMINIC sat ramrod straight and tried to find his equilibrium as Bella resumed her seat and proceeded to outline her plans for the restaurant and the type of cuisine she wanted to serve. Something about the woman rocked his balance. He searched for righteous anger, for indignation and scorn, but that comfort eluded him, too.

It didn’t mean he advocated her tactics. He loathed those. She’d emotionally blackmailed Marco into giving her the job, and yet …

The fire in her eyes when she’d leapt to her feet. The utter life that thrummed through her. It had burst from her as if her body couldn’t contain it.

He’d seen it, and for a moment it had turned everything upside down.

He’d demanded a sideways move within the Maldini Corporation for one reason alone—he hoped the new challenge would help drive away the emptiness that had started creeping over him in the last few months, the boredom and ennui.

He glanced at Bella again. Even under the polite cover of professionalism she’d now assumed, he could sense the fire in her, simmering just below the surface. He didn’t know what name to give it—zest, freedom, vitality? He had a feeling that if he could identify precisely what it was he’d find the answer to the emptiness that yawned through him when he least expected it. The emptiness that sucked all enjoyment out of life and left him feeling grey … blank. Emptiness he found harder and harder to fight each time it descended. Emptiness that had no reason for being. If he studied her, he might find the answer.

He took in her pouting lips and the long, dark fall of her hair as she listened to something her father said and his skin tightened. She crossed her legs and her skirt rode up, exposing a long length of tanned thigh. Heat arrowed into his groin and his senses suddenly blazed to life. Colours became instantly richer and he found himself appreciating the deep garnet-red of her suit, relishing the way it outlined her lush curves and highlighted the thick darkness of her hair. Smells sharpened until he could practically taste the lemon tang of her scent.

He bit back a curse. It had been a long time since a woman had fired him with such an instant response. Why Bella? Why now? He didn’t lack for female company—beautiful female company—and he’d made no secret of the fact that he liked women and that he liked variety in women. If Bella had been anyone else …

If she’d been anyone else he’d have sworn to have her in his bed by the end of the week.

He couldn’t. She was Marco’s daughter, for God’s sake.

And for the next two months he would have to find a way to work with her.

He stared at her folders, now sitting innocently on Marco’s desk, and his lips twisted. A blasted lingerie catalogue! He considered how shamelessly she’d just played her father. He thought back to all the women who had coldly taken advantage of his father and a seam of ice threaded through his veins. Bella wouldn’t find him so easy to manipulate.

It didn’t mean he couldn’t play her at her own game. She would not let Marco down this time. Dominic wouldn’t allow it. This time his reputation was on the line too and, if he had to charm her into compliance, he would.

Bella turned to him. ‘What do you say, Dominic?’

He hadn’t followed the conversation at all. No matter. He raised one shoulder in as languid a shrug as he could manage. ‘I’d say it’s going to be quite an experience working with you, Bella. I respect your—’ he let his gaze drop to her lips ‘—enthusiasm.’

‘I … Thank you.’

Rather than reach across and shake her as he itched to do, he sent her his trademark smile instead. The effect was devastating, or so he’d been told. He didn’t consider himself vain but he wasn’t falsely modest either. That smile had brought enough women to their knees for him to believe in it.

Bella’s eyes narrowed to thin pinpricks of hauteur. She looked as if she’d rather slap him than fall to her knees. It’d take more than a smile to knock this lady off her feet.

Unfortunately, that only made his interest level shoot up several notches. ‘I want to make it clear that I won’t make concessions for you because you’re Marco’s daughter.’ He personally meant to ensure that she worked her butt off.

She tossed her head. ‘I wouldn’t expect you to.’

‘I demand excellence.’

Her chin tilted at an angle that had him dying to kiss her. ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

He would make her toe the line and see this project through to its bitter end. She’d make good on her promise to Marco this time. He’d see to that. This time, when the going got tough and she tried to bail—and he’d make sure it got tough—she’d find his will more implacable than her own.

Bella was going to get exactly what was coming to her.

CHAPTER THREE

BELLA tried to smile at the cat, but it glared at her through the bars of its cage as if it knew she didn’t really mean it. It hissed when she readjusted the holdall over her shoulder. It spat when she dropped the other bag to the floor.

‘You might be a pedigree chocolate-banded Abyssinian, but you’re still just a cat, you know,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘In a cage,’ she added for good measure.

She fumbled with the door key and tried to keep the cage as still as possible. From the noise Minky was making, you’d think Bella had seized the cage in both hands and was shaking the life out of it.

She finally managed to get key in keyhole and started to turn it at the precise moment the door flew open and practically wrenched her arm from its socket. The momentum flung her inwards. Before she knew which way was up, she found her face mashed against hot male flesh.

Dominic’s hot male flesh.

The hot male flesh of Dominic’s naked chest.

For a moment everything froze. Him. Her. Time. Even Minky. But not for long. The cat hissed again, time sped back up and Bella forced herself to plant a hand in the middle of Dominic’s naked chest and push herself upright.

Only then did the full impact of his semi-nakedness slam into her. Oh, dear Lord, Dominic looked like some golden devil sent to tempt all of womankind. Her knees actually weakened. Broad, muscular shoulders angled down a powerful chest to a stomach a woman could crack walnuts on, and then down farther to lean hips encased in a pair of low-slung jeans. Heat flushed through her. Her, ‘What the hell are you doing in my apartment?’ got choked up in the back of her throat, making her sound as if she had a fur ball.

Perspiration beaded her top lip. The spattering of light hair on his chest, its crispness still imprinted against her cheek, tapered down to his navel and disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans. Perspiration trickled between her breasts and down her spine, making her shirt cling to her back.

‘Oops?’ he offered when she remained silent.

He looked disgustingly cool and unfazed. It made her aware of how crumpled and unkempt she was. She scowled. Dealing with Dominic at the office promised to be enough of a challenge let alone outside of it. Her apartment, she’d already decided, was going to be a strictly no-Dominic zone.

She hitched up her chin and tried to keep her eyes above shoulder level. ‘What, may I ask, are you doing in my apartment?’

‘Ah … There’s been a hiccup on that front.’

Great.

‘Apparently only one apartment was booked.’

She let the holdall slide from her shoulder to the floor. She set Minky’s cage down next to it and dusted off her hands. ‘Then I’ll go and talk to the apartment manager and organise another one.’

‘I’ve already tried that.’

She’d started to turn away. She turned back at his words. Her skin prickled with foreboding. ‘And?’

‘And there isn’t another apartment available in this block for another seven weeks. In fact, there isn’t another apartment to be had in the whole of Newcastle for the next eight days. Three affiliated events are taking place here this week—a literary festival, an art festival and a youth-culture festival, along with some associated popular-culture conference. The only accommodation available involves a tent.’

He had to be joking! She gaped at him.

‘Chin up, Bella. This is a penthouse apartment. It’s huge. There’s more than enough room for the both of us.’

It didn’t matter how big it was. It wouldn’t be big enough to …

‘Look, I know it’s not ideal, but this is business, Bella. You either roll with the punches or you get out.’

Get out? No way! She wasn’t leaving. Dominic might not want her on his team but he wasn’t getting rid of her that easily. She pursed her lips and resisted kicking the bag at her feet. ‘The apartment is large, you say?’

‘Huge.’

‘How many bedrooms?’

‘Two.’

She glared at him. Eyes above shoulder level. ‘This means setting some house rules.’

He raised both hands in the air. ‘Whatever.’

She yanked the holdall back to her shoulder and picked up Minky’s cage. House rule number one: no naked men!

He reached out a hand towards her and she tensed until she realised he only meant to take the holdall from her shoulder. He picked up the bag at her feet and led the way into the apartment.

Bella followed him then stopped dead and gaped. She choked. ‘Oh, my God!’

‘Yep.’

She dumped Minky unceremoniously on the coffee table and swung in a slow circle. Dominic had obviously done his best, opening the heavy velvet drapes as wide as they’d go, encouraging light to spill into the room, but the burgundy-coloured carpet seemed to absorb the light to create a strange pink glow.

‘What is this?’ She didn’t even try to camouflage her horror.

‘My initial reaction is to say, ghastly.’

She almost grinned at that.

‘But I believe it’s what’s commonly called a love nest.’

Good Lord, not good. Definitely not good. She tried to act cool, unfazed, as if she wasn’t embarrassed. As if the blood in her veins wasn’t circling around her body and dispersing the kind of heat she associated with chilli peppers. ‘I guess we should be thankful there aren’t cherubs painted on the ceilings.’

‘Wait till you see the bathroom.’

‘No!’ She swung to him. ‘Cherubs?’

‘Adam and Eve frolicking in the Garden of Eden, complete with strategically placed fig leaves.’

Oh, that was great, just great. She didn’t want to share any apartment with Dominic, but to have to share this one?

She glanced across at him; her stomach tightened. According to rumour, women fell at his feet with tedious regularity. It was said that he picked them up, dusted them off, made love to them and then moved on with breathtaking speed. She had no intention of falling at any man’s feet, least of all Dominic’s, but … This apartment!

The claustrophobic cosiness made her want to flee. It should’ve been impossible to make such a large room claustrophobic, but it had been sectioned off to create cosy nooks.

She didn’t want cosy nooks!

A pink velvet love seat reclined beneath one window, the same dusky colour as the drapes. A tiny pink sofa sat in front of the television unit, and she couldn’t see how Dominic would fit into it on his own let alone with someone—that was, her—wedged in beside him.

A small dining table held pride of place in an intimate alcove. Four chairs stood around it, though she didn’t see why the decorators hadn’t dispensed with the pretence and ditched two of them. A ridiculously ornate chandelier hovered over it all.

The furniture was dainty, feminine and incredibly seductive. Her arms inched about her waist. The apartment crouched as if waiting to pounce and force her to unleash her rampant desires the moment she let her guard down.

Minky yowled and Bella jumped. She hastily removed the cat’s cage from the coffee table and checked the satinwood for scratches. Dominic glanced at the cat and his lip curled as if he’d just stepped in something he wished he hadn’t.

‘Are you allergic?’ she asked, half-hopefully. Maybe he’d choose a tent over sharing an apartment with a cat.

‘No.’

Damn.

‘But I don’t like them.’

‘Me, neither.’ Minky glared at her. She glared right back. ‘I’m more of a dog person.’

‘Then why do we have a cat in our apartment?’

‘It’s not mine.’ She transferred her glare to Dominic. She didn’t like the way he’d emphasised the words we and our in that sentence, but didn’t know how to say so without sounding like a stark, raving lunatic.

Who knew? Maybe she was a lunatic. Mel had lumped her with the cat, hadn’t she?

‘A favour for a friend.’ She sighed. ‘It should only be for a week, maybe two. If you really hate it that much, I’ll put off moving to Newcastle until later.’ Then she could get away from this God-awful apartment. It’d mean a long commute for the time being, but that was suddenly far more attractive than spending more time than necessary in this apartment. With Dominic.

‘I can put up with the cat for a week or so.’

Fabulous.

She glanced around again and this time it was her lip that curled. ‘This is my exact idea of what a brothel would look like.’

‘I’ve never been in a brothel, so I can’t help you out there.’

No, he would never have to pay for sex.

She stiffened and tried to banish that thought from her mind. ‘I, uh … My father can’t possibly be responsible for this apartment.’

‘He wouldn’t have organised it. His secretary’s secretary would’ve booked the accommodation.’

Right. She thought about that for a moment. This so-called hiccup, this farce of an apartment, Dominic’s reputation … She tried to keep her voice casual. ‘You don’t happen to know this particular secretary’s secretary by any chance?’

He stilled. Then he swung around, his eyes narrowed. He folded his arms. Each movement made muscles ripple. ‘Are you asking me if I’ve slept with your father’s secretary’s secretary?’

She gave up on being casual. ‘I’m wondering if there’s someone in the chain who would find this amusing.’ Exactly how many hearts had he broken? How many women were there out there who wouldn’t mind the chance for a little payback?

His lip curled. ‘You’ve been listening to gossip.’

‘Warnings,’ she countered.

House rules. Ground rules. Now.

‘You have a reputation, Dominic. A reputation any woman would be a fool to ignore. I’ve been told you break women’s hearts as easily as you snap your fingers. That it’s all a game to you.’

His mouth opened but no sound came out.

‘I’m a woman, I have a heart and now I’m stuck in this God-awful apartment with you for who knows how long. Believe me, I mean to heed the warnings.’

He slammed his hands to his hips. ‘And just like that my character is condemned?’

‘I’m not condemning you.’ She took a step back. ‘But you’re a confirmed bachelor, right?’

‘There isn’t anyone more confirmed.’

‘Marriage is …?’

‘A dirty word.’

‘Whereas me, I’m a hearts-and-flowers kind of girl all the way—marriage, babies, the works. That’s what I want.’

She tried to laugh but her eyes had dipped below shoulder level and the laugh caught in her throat. With his legs planted firmly apart they looked longer, firmer. The loose, low-slung cut of his jeans couldn’t hide the power of his thighs. Bella’s fingers flexed and curled.

She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. Her cheeks started to burn. She dragged her eyes up to his face. His hair was a halo of fiery reds and golds. Temptation personified. She shook herself. ‘Are you telling me your reputation is unearned?’

‘I’m telling you that it’s irrelevant.’

Really? She might not be all that experienced where men were concerned, but in her father’s office last week she’d noticed the way Dominic’s eyes had kept travelling the length of her legs whenever he thought she wasn’t watching. Then there’d been the speculation in their depths, their heat, when they’d rested on her mouth. It had sent an answering heat surging through her. She knew enough to know that meant trouble. She meant to cut it dead in its tracks.

‘So … strictly business?’

‘Strictly business,’ he confirmed.

‘Do you appreciate straight talking, Dominic?’

‘I do.’

‘Then I have to say that walking around half-naked doesn’t seem to me the height of professionalism.’

‘My walking around without a shirt bothers you?’

She refused to lie. ‘It does.’

With a tightening of his lips, he turned on his heel and stalked from the room. He returned a moment later wearing a loose T-shirt that hung below his hips.

Had she offended him? She bit her lip. She couldn’t afford to get him offside. She’d need his support if she were to bring her dream restaurant into being. She’d need his good opinion if she wanted to make her father proud. If he told Papa that she was a failure, that she was stupid … She gulped and refused to follow that line of thought. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured.

He didn’t say anything. Then, ‘I left you the master bedroom.’

She swallowed. ‘That was kind.’

‘You might want to reassess that opinion once you’ve seen it.’

That didn’t sound promising.

‘Is this all your luggage?’ He motioned to the bags. ‘Or do you have more downstairs?’

‘These aren’t mine, they’re the cat’s.’ Her gear was still in the boot of her car.

‘What?’

She kicked a bag. ‘We have dry food, tinned food, special treat food. We even have cat chocolate.’

He stared at her as if he didn’t know what to say. She didn’t blame him.

‘Then there’s her basket, her blankets, her toys. This cat even has a different DVD for each day of the week. I’m supposed to set them to play on continuous mode whenever I go out so she doesn’t get lonely. This is the blasted prima donna of all cats. Do you still think you can put up with it?’

‘Yes.’ But he ground the word out between his teeth.

‘Tell me we have a DVD player in the apartment or I’ll have to race home and grab mine.’ Which could be a good thing. A chance for fresh air …

‘There’s a DVD player.’

He shifted his weight and shoved his hands in his pockets. He might’ve covered up, but Bella could recall with irritating clarity the definition of his pecs and abs, and how firm and warm his skin had felt against her cheek.

‘What’ll happen if it doesn’t get its DVD?’

She shook herself and hauled her gaze back to the cat. ‘She’ll destroy the apartment, that’s what.’

‘Why’d you agree to look after the damn thing?’

Even twisted up like that his lips looked intriguing and full of promise. ‘Because Melanie is my friend and nobody else would do it.’

‘I don’t like the sound of that.’

‘Minky’s cantankerous.’

His lip curled. ‘Minky?’

‘Don’t even go there. Not my cat. I didn’t name her.’

His lips twitched. ‘What would you call her?’

‘Medusa,’ she growled. ‘Because I’m petrified every single time she looks at me.’

He laughed then and all his beguiling goldenness and warmth seemed to reach out and brush against her. Her heart surged against her ribcage. Her lungs contracted.

‘If you give me your car keys I’ll go get your bags.’

Without a word, she fished her keys out of her pocket and handed them over. She wasn’t sure she was capable of speech.

When he left, she had to draw in several gulps of air before she could force her mind to work again. Bedroom. That’s right, check out the bedroom.

A short hallway led to two bedrooms directly opposite each other with the bathroom at the end. She peered in at the door on her right, and her jaw dropped. The rest of the apartment maintained a loose French Regency theme but this … This was just plain tacky.

She hated hot pink.

She checked out the bathroom. ‘Pah!’ She walked back to stare at the bedroom. Her worst nightmare, that was what this was. This bedroom, this apartment and the man she had to share it with.

‘Oh, hell, Bella. How many bags did you bring?’ Dominic struggled back into the apartment and dropped her bags to the living-room floor.

‘We’re in Newcastle for two months, remember?’ She gestured to her bedroom. ‘This is … It’s … I …’ She couldn’t find words.

‘Yeah, I know. And I’m not swapping.’

‘Is that supposed to be a bed?’ She motioned to the round concoction smack-bang in the middle of the room, heaped with hot-pink cushions and surrounded by pastel-pink mosquito netting.

‘I guess.’

She swung to his room. Its blankness shocked her: stark walls. Stark furnishings. She glanced back at her room, then his. It didn’t make sense. Overdone, overblown and tacky to cold, clinical and utilitarian? Not that Dominic had added any personal touches either. Her eyes narrowed. The room didn’t even hint at the personality of the man who inhabited it.

Not that she really knew much about his personality, she had to admit, only what the gossips had told her. But she knew enough to know he was a sensualist, like her. They chose to express it in different ways, that was all. He through sex; she through food. Together they could …

Don’t go there! Dominic conquered women the way the Roman Empire had conquered new territory—with a brash ruthlessness and half an eye on new horizons. Bella didn’t want to be conquered. She sure as hell didn’t want to be left for a new horizon.

‘Bella?’

She shook herself and gestured to his bedroom. ‘I don’t like that any better.’

‘You don’t?’

‘It’s awful.’

He pointed to her room. ‘Worse than that?’

‘Just as bad. Why don’t you put some things around?’

‘Like?’

‘I don’t know. Like a colourful quilt or something. Some photos … Anything.’

‘We’re only here for two months.’

Only two months? It stretched out like an eternity for her.

‘I like things neat.’

‘That’s not neat,’ she blurted out. ‘It’s blank!’

She tried to read the expression in his eyes. He couldn’t seriously like that room, could he? She understood his masculine pride baulking at the hot pink, but …

She glanced back at his room. He didn’t live like that normally, did he? At that thought something shifted inside her, but she couldn’t name what it was.

Only, she recognised that blankness. She and her father had felt that blank after her mother had died.

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