Billionaire, Boss...Bridegroom?. Kate Hardy

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      ‘So you could do clear vinyl with little wisps of mist running through it?’

      He looked surprised. ‘Yes. Would that tie in with your design?’

      ‘It’s what the music makes me think of. Obviously it’s just an idea at this stage,’ she said swiftly, not wanting to put him off. ‘I’ll do some rough mock-ups of three or four ideas, and then I’m discussing them with Tarquin this afternoon.’

      ‘Good. I look forward to seeing what you come up with.’

      She blinked, surprised. ‘You’re going to be in the meeting as well?’

      ‘Not that one,’ he said. ‘But when you and Tarquin have agreed which one to work on, then you come and convince me.’

      ‘Challenge accepted.’ The words were out before she could stop them. Oh, for pity’s sake. This wasn’t about a challenge. This was about...about...

      Why had her brain suddenly turned to soup?

      He smiled, then, and it felt as if the room had lit up. Which was even more worrying. She didn’t want to start feeling like this about anyone, especially not her new boss.

      ‘I think I’m going to enjoy working with you, Bella Faraday.’

      There was a faint trace of huskiness in his voice that sent a thrill right through her. This was bad. She could actually imagine him saying other things to her in that gorgeous voice. Things that would turn her into a complete puddle of hormones.

      No.

      This was work. She was really going to have to keep reminding herself that her relationship with Hugh Moncrieff was strictly business. Maybe she’d ask her friend Nalini to put a temporary henna tattoo on her hand saying ‘work’—written in Hindi script, so Bella would know exactly what it meant but anyone else would think it was just a pretty design. The last thing she needed was for anyone to guess how attracted she was to her new boss.

      ‘Good,’ she said. ‘I’ll get back to it, then.’ She gave him what she hoped was a cool, capable smile, and forced herself to walk coolly and calmly out of his office. One foot in front of the other. One step at a time. She could run once that door was closed behind her.

      She’d just reached the doorway when he said softly, ‘Bella. I think you’ve forgotten something.’

      Oh, help. She had to suppress the surge of lust. ‘What’s that?’ Oh, great. And her voice would have to be squeaky. She took a deep breath and turned to face him.

      He waved the envelope at her.

      ‘Keep it.’

      He coughed. ‘As your boss, I’m pulling rank.’

      If she was stubborn over this, she could lose her job.

      If she took the money back, she’d be in his debt.

      Caught between a rock and a hard place. Or maybe there was a way out. ‘Then I’ll donate it to charity,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you can suggest a suitable one.’

      ‘Bella, this isn’t a war,’ he said softly, and she felt horrible.

      ‘Sorry. It’s just... I don’t want to be in your debt. And I don’t mean just you—I mean in anyone’s debt,’ she clarified.

      ‘The dry-cleaning bill wasn’t much, and the taxi firm is one I use a lot so they were pretty accommodating. And,’ he added, ‘I’m not exactly a church mouse.’

      ‘Church mouse?’ she asked, not following. Then she remembered the proverbial phrase. ‘Oh. Of course.’

      ‘Take the money,’ he said softly, ‘and it’s all forgotten. As far as I’m concerned—and everyone else at Insurgo, for that matter—today’s the first day we’ve met. And I’m notorious in the office for not being a Monday morning person. Nobody usually talks to me until lunchtime on Mondays because I’m so horrible.’

      That made her feel better. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and took the envelope.

      ‘Have a nice day,’ he said, and that smile made her feel warm all over.

      ‘You, too,’ she said. But this time she lost her cool and fled before she could drop herself in it any more.

       CHAPTER THREE

      EVEN THE IDEA was crazy.

      Asking Bella was completely out of the question. She was practically a stranger; and she worked for him. Two huge reasons why Hugh knew that he should put this whole thing out of his mind.

      Hugh paced up and down his living room. The problem was, now the idea was in his head, it had taken root. And he knew why. He could tell himself that asking Bella to play the role of his unsuitable new girlfriend was simply because she was vivacious enough to make it convincing. It was true enough. But he knew that the real reason was a little more complicated than that. Spending the weekend together in Oxford would give them a chance to get to know each other better. See where things took them.

      Crazy. Stupid. Insane.

      He knew better than to mix work and pleasure. Last time he’d done it, the whole thing had gone so badly wrong that he’d nearly lost Insurgo—letting down his business partner and the people who depended on them for their jobs. Only the fact that Roland, his other best friend, had bought into the business as a sleeping partner had saved him from having to shut the business down. He’d worked stupid hours and he’d managed to stabilise everything, but he would never take that kind of risk again.

      Strictly speaking, he knew this wasn’t quite that kind of risk. Bella wasn’t Jessie. She was part of the team, not one of his artists. She’d signed a contract with him rather than making a verbal agreement she could back out of because it would be her word against his. Getting to know Bella wasn’t going to put Insurgo at risk.

      But it still made him antsy. Since Jessie, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t trust anyone with the battered remains of his heart. He’d keep an emotional distance. So why couldn’t he get Bella Faraday out of his head? Why did he keep remembering that frisson of awareness when she’d kissed his cheek in the taxi? Why did her smile make him feel as if the room lit up?

      And, more importantly, what was he going to do about it?

      * * *

      By Thursday morning, Bella felt as if she’d been working at Insurgo for ever. The rest of the team turned out to be total sweethearts, and they all shared a love of music, cinema and art. Everyone pitched in with ideas and suggestions, and nobody minded if theirs was passed over for a better one. And she absolutely loved working there.

      The previous afternoon, they’d had a discussion in the office about which song fitted them, so that evening she’d made little name-cards for everyone’s desk with a quick caricature of them and the title of ‘their’ song in place of their name.

      It seemed mean to leave Hugh out just because he was upstairs rather than in the open-plan office with everyone СКАЧАТЬ