Hot Boss, Boardroom Mistress. Natalie Anderson

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СКАЧАТЬ like and her behaviour proved it. What Amanda wanted, Amanda got—even if it meant two hundred people got held up because of her.

      An over-indulged minx and damn if she didn’t still stir his blood—more so now, incredibly enough. He’d never forgotten the sight of her in that get-up…her pale skin had seemed luminous next to the black silk. Where on earth had she got it from? Mail order?

      Nine years, seven months rolled away just like that and he was hit hard in the groin by a need that had never been indulged—and the accompanying frustration because she’d been forbidden. He gritted his teeth at the memory and then forced relaxation as he tried to think—reminding himself it was a long time ago and he was no longer the less-than-nothing youth he’d been back then.

      In fact, he mused as he sucked in a breath, it might be all right to want her now. One night with Amanda Winchester wasn’t necessarily taboo—not any more. Not now they were both out of that town and all grown up. That thought doused the discomfort and roused the hunter in him.

      So as she oh-so-determinedly ignored him he cast his eyes over her screen. Not caring about how rude he was—in fact he was doing it deliberately, wanting to annoy her into betraying herself again. She was a spoilt, demanding brat all the way. She’d tried testing her new-grown claws on him all those years ago, but he bet she’d be one hell of a vixen now. And yes, if she asked again, his answer would be very different. The wilful, wanting teen would translate into a wild, wanting woman. Hadn’t he just caught a glimpse of it in her eyes? Hadn’t he been unable to resist touching her—just a little, to see if that spark would flare? And it had. How would she burn if he touched her where he really wanted to?

      He blinked to refocus his eyes from the internal fantasy that was going to get him very uncomfortable if he didn’t shut it down. Too long since he’d had a lay—that was the problem. As he shifted in his seat again he saw what it was she was working on.

      Hell, no way!

      He took a moment to regulate his reaction and then asked, ‘So what do you do to earn money to eat, Amanda?’

      ‘I’m in advertising.’

      He smothered another snort. Of course she was. She could sell ice to an Inuit, had that knack of getting people to say yes. But not him. Not unless he controlled the situation.

      ‘Which agency?’ He figured it’d be one of the top two.

      ‘Synergy.’

      He clamped his jaw to stop it falling open. It was the wild card he’d selected. By far the smallest of the three agencies he’d shortlisted for the pitch, and, from what he’d heard on the grapevine, the one most in need of securing the contract tomorrow.

      He was glad he’d found out. Forewarned meant forearmed and now he had the time to plan his strategy. No way could he work with her, but at least he was spared the shock of having her walk into his office tomorrow.

      He took a sidelong glance at her coolly remote expression. He was not gentleman enough to give her warning. But then, he’d never pretended to be a gentleman. In fact, he spent the rest of the flight trying to suppress the most ungentlemanly thoughts.

      As the plane descended he watched the way she was gripping the arm rest between them and figured it wasn’t worth fighting her for it. ‘Don’t you like flying, Amanda?’

      ‘Not much.’ Her lips barely moved as she answered.

      ‘Don’t like being out of control, huh?’ The almost admission of a weakness amused him.

      ‘I have a strong self-preservation instinct.’

      He chuckled. A strong selfish instinct, more like. Not to mention lazy. He would never forget the tone she’d used to order him around on her grandfather’s farm and the way she’d sat at a distance with such indolence and watched him carry out her wishes.

      Finally they landed and the second the seat-belt sign was switched off she was standing, bags in hand—arrogantly asserting her priority status without even being conscious of it. Her sense of entitlement was so ingrained. Jared counted to ten as he waited behind her while the stewards opened the doors. Her high heeled boots gave her an extra inch, meaning the top of her head made it to his mouth. He breathed in, caught the gentle scent of her shampoo, and his flare of anger became a flare of something else.

      The first thing he’d do would be to free her hair from those clips—see if it was as long and golden as it had been back then. She’d always worn it loose—he’d seen it, like a flag heralding her arrival, and he’d known not to look. She’d been out of bounds but she’d pushed it. She wasn’t out of bounds now.

      He shortened his stride to stay alongside her as they walked along the corridors. She pushed buttons on her mobile and so did he. He had five messages. All of them could wait. It seemed she had none—or at least none urgent enough to warrant immediate attention. They got to the ground floor and the signs pointing to the luggage carousels. He, like she, ignored them and headed straight for the exit.

      ‘Don’t you have baggage to collect? Not your snowboard?’ she asked.

      ‘I like to travel light.’ Habit from the old days, he figured. When he’d finally got out of Ashburton he’d taken almost nothing with him. Nothing but a bunch of memories—and most of them were bad. It wasn’t that he didn’t have the material possessions now—if anything he’d have to admit he had too many. So he kept his snowboarding gear and a complete wardrobe at his holiday home in Queenstown.

      It was an odd relief to see that she was disconcerted by his presence—to know that he affected her too, just as she did him. Not that he’d let her know it.

      Oh, yes, despite her polite façade it was as obvious as anything that she wanted him to go. Just to be perverse, he stayed close. She was slowing now as they reached the exit. But there was no one to meet her. No boyfriend waiting at the gate to pull her close and kiss her like crazy.

      He shouldn’t care, but he was pleased about that too. No rings on her fingers, no calls on her mobile. They went through the automatic doors together. He expected to see her dive straight into the nearest taxi but instead she paused.

      ‘Lovely to see you again, Jared.’

      Lovely? Oh, sure, like she really thought that. Why couldn’t she be honest about it?

      ‘It was interesting seeing you too, Amanda,’ he said casually. ‘Who knows? Maybe we’ll see each other again soon.’

      She gave a plastic smile, turned and walked. Fast.

      He watched her for a moment, appreciating the neat ankles and slim calves as her legs clipped along. He wished he could see more of her. She’d had long, slim legs as a girl—damn the wool coat. He forced his head to turn away, figuring she must have her car parked in the long-stay area.

      He headed to the short-stay building and got into his car. It felt good to be back and now he had some fun to look forward to. He was going to enjoy seeing her perform tomorrow. Pulling out of the building, he looped round and caught sight of her—waiting for the bus service? No way. He’d pulled over before it hit that it could be a bad idea—not tonight. Maybe after tomorrow.

      But the words popped out regardless. ‘Can I give you a lift somewhere?’ What the hell was she doing at a bus stop anyway?

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