Best of Bosses 2008(168)

Sally couldn’t explain why, but something about the boss’s PA bothered her. She always felt on edge whenever Maria was around.

Pushing past Maeve, as if she were invisible, Maria dumped a pile of computer disks on the desk in front of Sally. ‘Can you be a darling, Sally, and download these on to a file on your computer?’

A darling? Sally choked back an exclamation. What was this about? She knew her job description didn’t include working under the direction of Logan’s personal assistant. Just the same, she wanted to please this woman. Maria was the only person in the company who sent off negative vibes and Sally certainly didn’t want to make an enemy of her.

‘Don’t look so worried, Sally. I just need a backup. For security.’

‘Of course. I’ll get on to it straight away.’

With a thin smile, Maria spun around and, ignoring Maeve again, marched back through the security door.

Maeve watched in silence until she’d gone, then gave an expressive roll of her eyes. ‘It might be wise to remember that you’re a very small finch.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘That one’s a predator, and a dangerous one at that.’

‘Oh, come on, Maeve. That’s a bit mean. Maria’s a bit sharp, but I suspect she’s under a lot of pressure, working for someone like Logan…I…I mean Mr Black.’

Maeve shook her head slowly. ‘I’ve been watching that woman for two years and I’m still waiting for her to pounce. You be careful with her, my girl.’

She tapped her nose knowingly and walked on, but her warning echoed like a menacing alarm bell as Sally loaded the first disk and started saving Maria’s files.

In the middle of the afternoon, however, any niggles of disquiet about Maria’s request flew out of her head when the boss telephoned.

‘I hope this isn’t too late notice, but would tomorrow evening suit you for another dancing lesson?’

Sally knew she should give him an excuse. Could she really go through another night of self-torture? Perhaps she should tell him she was babysitting Oliver and Rose.

But it would be a lie and Sally was terminally honest. Logan needed at least one more lesson. How could she let him down?

Miserably aware that she was inviting another round of heartache, she assured him that Tuesday evening was fine.



This wasn’t working.

Halfway through the second dancing lesson, Logan’s concentration was shot to pieces.

It was crazy, really, because tonight’s session should have been so much easier than the first one. Not only had he one or two clues about waltzing now, but Sally had been considerate enough to abandon the dangerous low-backed yellow dress in favour of a simple T-shirt and boyish jeans.

Her shirt was high-necked with long sleeves, so Logan was spared the distraction of her bare, soft and silky skin. But, even though she was clothed from neck to toe, Sally Finch still provided far too many distractions. Logan’s fingers could sense the supple warmth of her through the T-shirt’s thin fabric, could smell her clean hair, her fresh, fragrant skin.

This close, she made him too painfully conscious of the lush invitation of her lips, smiling mere inches from his.

But the worst torment came from his own clumsiness, which caused him to bump, every so often, against her. Each brush against Sally was like a teasing promise, each brief point of contact a burning fiery brand.

If this went on much longer, Logan feared he might self-combust.

In the past, if he’d been aroused by a woman, he would have moved swiftly to seduce her. In the past, he’d always been able to steer his desires towards suitable women who were as pragmatic as he was about balancing their desires with the demands of their careers.

In the past, Logan had not met Sally.

Sweet, warm and dangerous Sally.

He feared, at some deeply primitive level, that if he took Sally to his bed, he would want to keep her there for ever. And that wasn’t part of the game plan.

‘Logan, lead with your body, not with your feet,’ Sally’s voice commanded from somewhere below his ear.

Sweat trickled down the back of his neck. If he led with his body, he would bump into her again.

‘Look to the left to watch where you’re going.’

Logan looked to his left and he twirled her as lightly and deftly as he could.

‘Smile!’ cried Sally.

‘I can’t.’

That was asking too much.

To his relief, the music they’d been dancing to came to an end and Sally stopped. ‘That was great, wasn’t it?’

‘Do you think so?’ He was sure he’d made next to no progress.

‘Oh, yes.’ She spoke soothingly—a teacher calming an over-anxious pupil. ‘I think you’ve almost mastered the waltz.’