Page 12 of Covert

“Would you like it to be?”

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

“That depends,” she said. “I thought I’d worked enough nights lately, and there’s only so much typing, filing, and book-keeping a girl can take.”

“I wasn’t talking about work.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

Her heart hammered as she called his bluff. She loved sparring, 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 ethic and you’ve hardly had a night off since you started. How would you like a tour of Melbourne at night?”

He devoured the last of his sandwich, concentrating on his plate as if her answer meant nothing. However, she noticed he ran a finger around the inside of his tight collar, a gesture she’d noted only when he seemed rattled.

“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 intended to go.

“Why settle for good when you can have the best?”

“You’re that confident?”

“You’ll have to try me and find out.”

His lips quirked into that killer smile she’d rarely glimpsed since the first day.

She knew accepting his invitation would be a dumb idea. He’d made the offer as repayment for a job well done, and spending time with him after hours could be dangerous.

She had no intention of getting involved with her boss. Her life was 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.” She nodded. “I’d like that. Thanks.”

“Good. I’ll make the arrangements and let you know.” He stared at her for a moment, like he wanted to say something else.

However, he cleared his throat and picked up a stack of contracts. “Let’s get back to these. We still have a lot of work to finish.”

Work was good. Work, she could do. What she couldn’t—and shouldn’t—do was her boss, and she struggled to focus as he droned on about profit margins and shares.

Besides, she had plenty of time to fantasise about her evening out with Dylan once she reached the confines of her bedroom later tonight. In the meantime, she’d continue doing a good job, because she had no intention of letting him renege on his offer.

A night out on the town with a gorgeous guy, even if he was her grumpy boss, sounded like fun, and it had been far too long since she’d had any.

8

Dylan sighed in resignation as he straightened his tie.

Though he’d been looking forward to catching up with the Taylor’s, the planned dinner had lost its appeal when he realised it would keep him away from the office for the evening.

He hadn’t felt so alive in years, ploughing through reams of work all day and into the evenings, relishing the sense of achievement, with Sam by his side…

An unwelcome thought insinuated its way into his brain and he wondered if his renewed enthusiasm for the job had anything to do with actual work or everything to do with his stunning personal assistant.

He shook his head, trying to dislodge her image and his disturbing thoughts. So what if she’d been by his side, working into those long nights? He’d barely had time to notice her, he’d been so hell-bent on putting the finishing touches on a contract to acquire more land in northern Victoria.

He hadn’t registered the slim ankles, the trim waist, the curve of her breasts, the lightly glossed mouth… He groaned, wrenching his wayward thoughts away from her glorious pout and what she could do with it—to him.

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