IN BED WITH THE BOSS

When they finally began to sink downwards. Vivian saw a series of slated rooftops forming the shape of a large country house standing in the center of sweeping clipped green lawns sloping down to a tiny lake.

As they settled on the grass a short walk away from the creamy painted walls of the house, she assumed that it must be a hotel. And only realized her mistake when Scott led the way in through the front door and she heard him greet a smartly dressed man, before strolling over to a side table to begin sifting through the small pile of letters she could see waiting there.

“This is a house,” she murmured, pausing to look around the light and airy hallway.

Scott threw her a glance. “What did you think it was?”

“A hotel.” His smile was more of a grimace. “This is my home-or the one I use whenever I’m here”

Eyelashes flickering away from the sturdy staircase built of rich golden oak which took up central position, Vivian looked at him, then away again.

“How many homes do you have?” she asked curiously.

“Too many, probably,” he mocked. “I don’t like hotels,” he explained. “I prefer my own space.” There was something in the way that he’d said that, which made Vivian frown as she studied his face. She almost mentioned that she had met him at a hotel, but decided not to. The look on his face told her nothing, and he appeared completely relaxed, yet-

Someone came in through the open front door then, making her turn about.

It was the man Scott had greeted as they’d arrived here and he was carrying her holdall and dress bag.

“This is Anthony” Scott made the introductions. “Anthony keeps the house running smoothly. If you need anything while you’re here, Anthony can usually provide it. Miss Sanchez, Anthony,” he said.

“Good afternoon, Miss Sanchez,” Anthony greeted her politely. “I will take your things up to your room, then organize some refreshment.” He strode off towards the stairs, leaving Vivian chewing her bottom lip as she watched him go. It was all very easy, very polite. It was nothing like she’d seen before. The house was beautiful. It had soft cream walls and a gentle, classical feel to it. She liked it.

“Take a look around while I finish reading through these,” Scott invited, his attention back on his stack of mail.

Wandering off, Vivian discovered that all the doors stood open already as if in invitation for her to step into each room. The first one she chose turned out to be a beautiful living room with squashy gold velvet sofas and chairs. A grand piano stood in front of a pair of French windows situated at one end of the room.

“Do you play?” she asked Scott as she walked out of the room again.

“Sometimes. I play the guitar too, but I don’t have much time these days.”

Wondering why he sounded so indifferent to possessing such a wonderful gift, she crossed the hall to the other side and discovered a creamy book-lined study with a large desk filling the window and olive-green furnishings.

Stepping out again she saw that Scott had finished with his letters and was now studying her. A frisson ran down through her body. Conscious suddenly that they appeared to be alone here apart from Anthony, Vivian wasn’t sure if she was comfortable with the arrangement, though she tried not to show it.

“How-how far are we away from the venue… I mean the place we’re going to tonight?” she asked him.

“Five minutes by helicopter, twenty minutes by car. Do you want to see the rest of the house or are you ready for something to eat and drink?” he asked.

She didn’t know what she wanted to do. Her fingers were restlessly pleating together and unpleating again, and for some reason she felt very unsure of her ground where his mood was concerned right now. He was relaxed, yes. He was being very pleasant. But there was something different about him that made her want to- What-? Back off? Run?

He was not offering to show her to her room, which was usually the first thing people did with a guest who was staying overnight. Not that she wanted him to show her to her room, Vivian told herself quickly. But- But what?

Exasperated with herself, she decided her best choice while she was feeling so unsettled was, “I think I would like to look around some more.”

With a nod of his dark head he led the way towards the back of the house.

Half an hour later she’d been shown an all-purpose gym and an indoor swimming pool, a very elegant dining room, two more less formal sitting rooms and a huge rear garden that was a blaze of color from the early summer flowering bulbs. Not once did Scott rest so much as a hand on her, yet she quivered inwardly all the time as if he was threatening to do it.

It was the fault of the kiss, she told herself. The knowledge that he had come at her out of nowhere with it and so could easily come at her out of nowhere with something else.

He was volatile-unpredictable. The kind of man who was a law to himself.

He fascinated and unnerved her in equal measures, and her awareness of his close proximity played like a bow across the taut string of her nerves, which in turn kept every sense she possessed honed on him.

“It’s a very big house for just Anthony to look after,” she remarked eventually.

“You have no other staff?” She hadn’t seen a single other person.

“Plenty, but they know not to be around when I’m here,” Scott said.

Because, as he’d already said, he liked his own space. His phone rang then and, after taking the call, he murmured, “Excuse me, I have to deal with this,” and strode off towards his study, talking in hushed tones.

It was like being let off for good behavior. Vivian felt herself almost deflate with relief. Working closely with him was taxing. Fighting with him was taxing! But being treated to a whole hour of his graciously polite side had worn her out! How did he manage to switch his moods on and off like a light switch? How did he go from impatient boss to hot, angry kisser with serious possessive tendencies that made her insides flip over to amiable companion? Passionate, pre-calculating, domineering and dangerous, she listed, quivering despite not wanting to react at all.

What mood was he going to treat her to next? The urban sophisticate wearing his social mask while she hung on his arm? He was tying her emotions in knots with his quick-change mood swings. She needed something to do to take her mind off him.

Fortunately Anthony appeared as if by magic to offer her the promised refreshment. “It’s such a beautiful day, perhaps you would enjoy sitting out on the terrace? I’m sure Mr McCall will not be long.” he said to her.

Mr McCall could take as long as he liked, Vivian thought as she followed Anthony across one of the rear sitting rooms and outside. The moment she relaxed into a cushioned chair and the warmth of the sun touched her face, she felt homesick.

Anthony unfurled a huge canvas umbrella, suddenly dousing her in shade. She knew he’d meant well but she’d been happier to close her eyes and bake for a little while, something she had not had the opportunity to do for a while.Content held by NôvelDrama.Org.

“Something cool to drink or would you prefer coffee or tea?” enquired Anthony.

A sudden imp inside her made her want to demand a large shot of vodka, just to see how Anthony would react. Anthony and all of this polite care and attention did not fit with the cool, tough, impersonal if-I-can-do-it-myself-I-will nature of Scott McCall.

“Something cool,” she said meekly, smiling wryly to herself.

“Coffee for me, Anthony” a third voice instructed.

Scott strode out of the house and into the sunshine, then paused for second, lifting up his face as if he’d missed the sun too. His sweater had gone and he’d rolled back the sleeves of his checked shirt, revealing strong muscled forearms smattered lightly with fine black hair that made his skin look deeply tanned.

For a timeless moment Vivian was held transfixed by his sheer bronzed beauty. A telling little flame flickered into life low down. Then he tilted his chin down again and she dragged her eyes from him, feeling shaken inside and momentarily defenseless against these surges of attraction she kept on experiencing.

“They’re going to slap a no-fly zone over the estate for the evening to stop the uninvited press from flying overhead,” he was telling Anthony, “so can you make sure my pilot knows we need to leave to arrive before seven o’clock?”

With a nod Anthony left them alone on the terrace. Vivian fixed her eyes on the garden where an elegant goddess stood gently pouring water from an urn into a circular pond.