Home>>read November Harlequin Presents 2 free online

November Harlequin Presents 2(3)

By:Susan Stephens


‘You!’ The word exploded from her lips like an accusation, her hands and feet combining in some crazy dance for her shoes, while her head swung between him and the lift doors, giving him the insane impression that at any moment she was planning to bolt.

‘Who were you expecting?’ he asked, planting his fists on her desk, only half joking. ‘The Spanish Inquisition?’

She bit down on her bottom lip, battling to get her frantic heart-rate under control. Given a choice, she’d take the Spanish Inquisition over this man any day. Because she knew what James Maverick looked like. Hell, the whole of Australia and half the world besides knew what he looked like! In the last three weeks since she’d been back in the country, she’d seen one article after another featuring the corporate high-flyer sprinkled liberally from the front page, through to the deepest, darkest business pages, to the red carpet ‘who’s out with whom’ shots.

But she also knew he wasn’t supposed to be here!

‘But you…’ She protested from a mouth suddenly desert-dry. ‘You’re supposed to be in Europe. Milan!’ she added for emphasis, as if that might make him disappear in a puff of smoke.

He leaned across the desk towards her, his rich chocolate eyes as unimpressed as they were challenging. She swallowed. She’d never thought of chocolate brown as a threatening colour, not until now; his scorching gaze seemed to suck the very air from the room. Her sister had described him as a tyrant, the A-grade boss from hell. What she hadn’t told her was that he was also A-grade sex on legs. How could Morgan not have noticed? Testosterone radiated out from him like a magnetic field. He wore it as easily as his crisp blue-and-white pinstriped shirt. He wore it as easily as the mantle of power that was almost tangible around him.

And with his dark eyes and hair, and the hint of a shadowed jaw and even darker disposition, he looked for all the world like an archetypal gunslinger. It was little wonder the entire business world had dropped the ‘James’ years ago and simply called him Maverick. He probably had a black hat and a gun belt stashed away in his top drawer to deal with wayward clients.

Not to mention anyone masquerading as his PA.

And right now Tegan was firmly in his sights. She shivered. Had he twigged at the deception already?

‘My little surprise,’ he said, moving closer, a dangerous glint in his eye, and his voice a silken noose she felt tightening by the second. ‘I’m very much here. Just as you are very much late and obviously not ready for work. From now on you do your head banging—and get dressed—on your own time.’

Relief the game wasn’t yet up gave way to aggravation. He hadn’t so much as given her an opportunity to explain why she was late.

‘I was held up—’

‘Obviously.’

‘And I was hardly getting dressed!’

‘It sure looked like it from where I was standing.’

Heat flooded back into her cheeks in outrage. ‘You were watching me!’

‘I was waiting for you,’ he corrected, as if it were some kind of defence against her accusation, and he slashed one hand through the air towards her clock. ‘Like I have been for the last hour and a half.’

She jagged up her chin, still incensed. ‘I didn’t realise it would be such a problem. It’s not as if you’re supposed to be here, after all.’

‘It is a problem!’ He rattled the words out like machine-gun fire and she drew back, knowing she’d overstepped the mark. ‘And it’s just as well,’ he continued, ‘that I refused your leave application just in case, because just in case happened. Giuseppe Zeppa had a heart attack Saturday, and as a result all negotiations with Zeppabanca are on hold indefinitely—which means placating Rogerson so he doesn’t get cold feet and pull out of the Aussie end of the deal. So I suggest you get your gear organised and get into my office—and bring the Rogerson file. We’ve got a lot of work to get through today.’

‘But…’ she implored, grabbing hold of his arm before he could wheel away. This wasn’t part of the deal. It was one thing to have him accept at face value that she was Morgan; it was another thing entirely to expect her to carry that through. She looked up at him while beneath her fingers corded power tensed, turning the muscled flesh rock-hard.

He looked down at the hand on his sleeve, and then at her, like she’d just committed some kind of major crime.

Slowly, dangerously, he angled his jaw, the cleft in his chin a menacing shadow while the look in his eyes turned to a slow, cold burn. Instantly she regretted her knee-jerk reaction. She was well and truly caught, skewered by the potent glare from his eyes.