Her Boss by Day.... Joss Wood

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СКАЧАТЬ you were female and had a great cleavage, blonde hair down to your waist and legs up to your neck—it was attitude …

      And he had lots of it.

      Rob caught the eye of a bouncer, jerked his head and received a quick nod to go in, bypassing the queue. He slipped a bill into the guy’s hand in a slick movement as the rope was lifted and cursed when his mobile vibrated in his pocket. Stepping back from the door, he shoved his finger in his ear and answered the call.

      ‘Rob, it’s Gail.’

      ‘Hey, Snail.’ At twenty-two, his sister was ten years younger than him and the best thing in his life. ‘What’s up?’

      ‘Not much—just checking in,’ Gail replied. ‘Whatcha doing?’

      ‘About to go into a club.’

      ‘Have you met anyone yet?’ Gail demanded.

      ‘I haven’t even been here two days!’ he protested.

      ‘My man-about-town bachelor brother is slacking,’ Gail teased and he rolled his eyes.

      ‘I won’t have the time in Sydney and I don’t have the inclination,’ Rob retorted.

      Gail’s laugh tickled his ear. ‘Did the screaming match with Saskia put you off? Judging by the way she flounced out of here, she obviously didn’t take it well when you told her that she’d hit her expiry date?’

      ‘Jeez, Gail! Her expiry date?’

      ‘I call it like I see it. You never go over the three-month-fling mark and she was due.’

      Not as obsessed with the time-frames of his dates as his sister, Rob counted back. Yeah, it was nearly dead on three months. He’d started getting twitchy as Saskia started making noises about ‘formalising’ their relationship, dropping comments about needing cupboard space in his bedroom. She had left a box of tampons in his bathroom cabinet and he’d realised that it was time to bail. She wasn’t someone he wanted around long-term …

      He’d never met anyone he wanted around long-term.

      ‘One day you’re going to meet someone who blows your socks off,’ Gail warned him.

      He doubted it. Remembering that the best way to get Gail off the subject of his love-life was to comment on hers, he said: ‘Are you still dating the tattoo artist? Does he make enough money to take you to the movies occasionally?’

      Gail sighed. ‘Well-played. Deflect and distract.’

      ‘I try. Don’t do anything stupid with this one, okay, honey?’

      After witnessing the best and worst of love, he and Gail approached relationships from opposite directions. She thought that true love and happily-ever-after was just around the corner, and he knew that there was only one person he could ever fully depend on and that was himself.

      He and Gail adored each other, but they didn’t understand the other’s choices when it came to the opposite sex.

      ‘How long are you going to be in Sydney?’ Gail asked. ‘This house is like a morgue without you.’

      ‘A month … six weeks,’ Rob replied. ‘Do not let Mr Body Art move in while I’m gone.’

      Gail laughed again. ‘I’ll just move into his place … Bye—love you!’

      Rob looked at his dead phone and shook his head. He was convinced that Gail only called him to wind him up and raise his blood pressure. That, he supposed, was a younger sister’s job.

      Rob looked at his watch … ten p.m. here, and that meant it would be around two in the afternoon back home. Snail was home from her morning classes at uni and she was bored—and a great way to relieve that boredom was to take pot-shots at his love-life.

      Revenge, Rob decided as he stepped into the heaving club, would be sweet and designed to embarrass her to the max. Because that was what his job as her older brother was.

      Slapped in the face with the noise and smell of the club—alcohol and perfume and sweat mixed together in an almost palpable fug—he immediately asked himself what he was doing. Apart from the fact that he was still exhausted from the long flight from Johannesburg the day before yesterday—he really had to learn to sleep on planes—and the fact that he’d been working sixteen-hour days for months, he also hated clubs and clubbing.

      Too loud, too packed, girls too obvious and generally far too young and too eager. Call him old-fashioned but he liked to do a little work before a piece of tail fell into his lap. And, really, at thirty-two, dating kids his sister’s age or younger made him feel like a dirty old man.

      Rob brushed off a hand on his behind and ignored a proposition from his left as he scanned the bar. He’d find his new firecracker of a PR person, make his excuses and then head back to the flat he’d rented and fall face-down onto the bed.

      Rob ran a hand over his short dark brown curls and squinted into the low light of the club. Finding Amy in this madhouse was going to be a nightmare, he thought as his mobile vibrated in his pocket. Or not, he thought, looking at the text message.

      At the entrance, hook a left and head towards the back of the club. Table in the back corner.

      God bless technology. Rob smiled, shoved his mobile back into the pocket of his jeans and took her directions.

      Ah, a table full of women … not too young, thank God, but obviously, judging by the bottles and glasses on the table, well on their way to being cabbaged. Shoot me now, he thought. Half an hour, one beer, and he was out of there.

      At least they were gorgeous women, admittedly. Amy, confident and glossy, led the pack. There was her colleague—he couldn’t remember her name—and her assistant. Couldn’t remember her name either. The other two women he didn’t recognise at all. He dismissed the tomboy blonde who, he saw when he looked over his shoulder, was swapping some major eye contact with some dude at the bar, and focussed on the woman with mahogany hair tucked into the corner of the table, a cocktail glass in her hand. She had a wide-eyed, Audrey Hepburn waif look to her that instantly made a man regress to being a caveman.

      You woman, I protect you. Lie down and I make you happy. Grunt. Grunt.

      He’d known a lot of women—sue him … he was in his thirties and had been consistently single all his life—so he was old enough and wise enough to realise that waifs and strays, romantics and women who seemed helpless and hopeless, normally ended up tearing strips off him.

      Women, as he’d learnt, were seldom what they portrayed themselves to be. Scrap that. People mostly weren’t who they said they were.

      Amy sprang to her feet. ‘Rob—yay, you’re here!’

      Yeah. Yay.

      ‘You know Bella and Kara, my colleagues—’ their names went in one ear and out of the other ‘—the creature ignoring you for the rock star wannabe at the bar is my flatmate Jessica—oi! Jessica! This is Rob.’

      The blonde whipped her head around, flashed him a smile. ‘Hey, Rob.’

      Quick СКАЧАТЬ