Bedded By The Boss: The Boss's Demand / Something about the Boss... / Beguiling the Boss
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He was rock-hard, straining painfully against the zipper of his pants. He regretted removing his jacket, but if he rose to retrieve it from the seats on the other side of the aircraft, his situation would be very evident. Only the Wall Street Journal prevented his lust from being clearly visible to its instigator.
Why on earth did this woman have such an appalling effect on him? He felt like a man who’d wandered lost in the desert for months without water then stumbled across a glittering oasis. He gasped with hunger and thirst that had nothing to do with food and drink.
He’d not been celibate for the past decade. Women flung themselves at him on a regular basis, and sometimes he took what they offered. They had their needs, he had his. The enjoyment was mutual, the parting inevitable. Some of them sought a rich beau to pamper them, some of them an exotic lover to walk on the wild side with.
He could give them what they wanted without giving up anything of himself.
None of them saw the man inside. The simple man humbled by the poverty of his spirit. The lonely soul who had learned at the hands of his father that love and affection were crimes to be met with harsh and lasting punishment.
He was no longer capable of love and the knowledge did not even pain him anymore.
Well. That little train of thought had taken care of his erection nicely.
He flipped the page of his newspaper and sneaked a sidelong glance at Sara.
She’d fallen asleep?
Good.
He felt genuine relief for her. It would be far better for her to sleep quietly through their return to earth. The jolt of the landing would be a rude enough awakening.
Some of the client sites they visited had runways that tested the skill of the most experienced pilots. The site they were traveling to was remote, a new field, the runway probably still dusted with freshly turned soil. Even he sometimes became alarmed at the sight of rocky, uneven terrain rising up to meet the plane at high speed.
Quietly, he laid his newspaper aside. He didn’t want its crinkling to rouse her from her peaceful slumber.
And she did look peaceful. Her delicate lashes rested against her cheeks. She did not wear mascara and her lashes were a soft, dark gold color, like the soil of his homeland.
Her cheeks were still flushed with pink, and her lips parted, moist, as if she’d just licked them.
And maybe she had.
What dreams danced in her head that caused her face to shimmer with a secret smile? A smile that didn’t play upon her lips or sparkle in her closed eyes, but that lit her features with an inner radiance and made them glow with enchantment.
He didn’t feel anything so mundane as lust for her at this moment. Her loveliness was a balm to his spirit.
And he respected her business acumen. She displayed an astonishing knack for putting clients at ease, for explaining complicated concepts without blinding business people with science, the way he tended to. He knew he often came off as pompous and standoffish. He wondered if she saw him that way. Probably. And she was probably right.
On their relatively short acquaintance he could see that Sara was a remarkable woman in many ways. A woman who deserved to be treated with respect. And as a mark of his respect he would not take advantage of her attraction to him.
Or his attraction to her.
He was a grown man. He could control his base instincts, rein them in the way he reined in the potentially dangerous power of the stallions he rode. She was a valuable employee. And he would do well to remember that when his primal urges threatened to get the better of him.
“Oh, God!” Jolted awake by a loud bang and a sudden jarring sensation, Sara couldn’t remember where she was. “Did we crash?”
“No.” Elan’s eyes were on her as she opened her own. “We’ve landed. We’re on the ground.”
The plane shook and rattled, jarring Sara’s rigid body as the wheels shuddered along the crude runway.
“Did I fall asleep?” Stupid question. Of course she had. Though how on earth that had happened she couldn’t imagine. A response to sensory overload, perhaps? “Don’t answer that.”
Elan didn’t look as if he had any intention of answering. Casual chitchat wasn’t his style. An odd memory of singing with him crept into her consciousness. “Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall.” Must have been a dream. Weird. And in her dream the singing was his idea. Weirder.
In a rush it all came back to her. Her humiliating display of terror as they’d boarded the aircraft. The way she’d practically hyperventilated as they taxied along the runway. How she’d clung to him as if he were a life raft in the open ocean.
She braced against her seat as the plane ground to an abrupt halt.
“Thank you.”
She didn’t know what else to say.
He merely nodded, folded his newspaper, and placed it in his briefcase.
Noise from the drilling rigs assaulted her ears as their driver parked the Jeep. She strained to hear Elan as he jumped out and beckoned her to follow. He strode toward the drilling site, enthusiasm evident in his energetic movements.
The heady aroma of crude oil filled the air. A phalanx of beam pumps stretched into the distance, rocking in a steady rhythm, pulling the oil from its age-old hiding place beneath the barren soil.
The oil field was a fairly recent discovery and Al Mansur Associates had bid aggressively for the contract to develop it. Sara had jumped at Elan’s suggestion that she come see it.
But now as she stood amid the clamor and bustle of the job site, a twinge of apprehension twisted her gut.
She knew the theories behind supply and demand, soil mechanics, flow ratios. She understood drilling from a technical and economic standpoint. But now she wasn’t sure she wanted to see exactly how the earth was plundered and forced to give up its secrets and riches.
Elan introduced her to the site foreman and they left their papers and briefcases in his office trailer. They donned safety glasses, hard hats and earplugs before he led them across the sandy soil and up a flimsy metal ladder onto a rig about to begin drilling.
The driller in charge gave Sara a stern list of warnings about where she could and couldn’t stand, what to watch out for, the possibilities for injury if a piece of equipment broke or came loose, or the potential for a blowout if they found a shallow pocket of gas beneath the soil. By the time he’d finished, her nerves jangled as if she stood on a massive bomb that might explode at any moment.
She positioned herself as close to the giant drill as she dared. As it revved into action she imagined the dinosaur-like grinding teeth gnawing their way down through the rock below. Elan came and stood beside her, watching her reaction as the platform shook and shuddered with the movements of the machinery.
“This is my favorite part,” he said, shouting over the motors.
“Typical male!” she shouted back.
Elan looked confused for a second then a slow smile spread over his face. He leaned toward her, as if to say something, so she removed her earplug, nerves jumping.
“You have a naughty mind.” His lips brushed against her skin as he spoke and his voice resounded in the hollow of her ear canal, triggering a responsive rhythm that pulsed down through her body. The touch of Elan’s lips on her skin was a sinfully sweet sensation.
Yes, I have a naughty mind. Since she’d come to Al Mansur Associates, her body seemed to have developed a mind of its own that had nothing to do with her intellect.
Elan’s smile stayed plastered across his face. She could only begin to imagine what was going on in his mind as he watched the men guide the drill deeper and deeper into the earth.
When the drilling finally stopped, he placed his hand gently in the curve above her hips to guide her to the downward ladder. The simple and practical caress made her feel languid, sensuous.
“Is it a gusher?” she asked, half-joking, once they were back on solid ground.
“Not yet.” He smiled. “Once they pump out the drilling mud it will be. But you won’t see oil shooting up into the air. We don’t like to waste a single barrel.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon visiting wells in various stages of drilling and pumping. Elan moved about the job site with the ease and confidence of a man used to being in command. Honored that he’d chosen to groom her for a larger role in the company, Sara resolved to live up to his obviously high expectations of her.
Back on his private jet, he settled into the seat beside her. She wondered why he didn’t sit in one of the other seats on the plane. There was no reason for them to sit together since they were the only passengers. Presumably he’d sat beside her on the trip out because she’d been clinging to him like a limpet.
Perhaps he wanted to be close in case she needed reassurance. Did she? Not about the plane. Now that she’d survived her first flight she was relatively relaxed about flying again.
She would like some reassurance that she could work with Elan without wetting his suit with her drool. And that kind of reassurance was not immediately forthcoming. Especially not as he removed his gold cuff links and—once again—rolled his shirtsleeves up over broad, muscled forearms.
Oh, dear. She pressed her fingertips to her eyelids. Just don’t look, okay!
“Are you tired?”
“What? Er, yes. I suppose I am a little.” Tired of the way she couldn’t get a grip on her libido. “It was a fascinating day. I really appreciate you bringing me here.”
“You’re welcome. I’ve never brought my assistant out to the field with me before, but I can see your abilities are far above average.”
“Thank you.”
As the jet’s engines roared to life, her gut clenched with sudden apprehension. Without a word he placed his hand over hers. But the warmth of his touch proved anything but soothing.
Fear evaporated as a painful lightning bolt of desire ripped through her, leaving a smoking trail of heat in its path. Her body burned with a dangerous and craven longing to become entangled with this man in a way that was entirely unprofessional.
Elan’s hands were calloused. The rough texture of his palms made her skin prickle with awareness. His fingers were soft yet firm as they wrapped around hers. The unwelcome thought of those broad, masculine hands moving over her tortured flesh sent shock waves of agonizing arousal shivering through her.
Her feelings for him suddenly seemed like the oil pressurized beneath the earth, waiting to rush up and explode into the clear sky unless she kept them very carefully capped and sealed. And every second in Elan’s presence brought her closer to a potentially devastating blowout.
Four
“Oh, I’m totally fine now that I’ve gotten used to flying,” she’d said. “Really, I’m…” She turned to look out the window. “Oh.”
She sat back in her seat quickly and pressed a hand to her chest. Elan glanced past her and saw the landing lights through the porthole window as the plane banked steadily to the right.
“Goodness, does it always tip to the side like that?” Her voice shook and she licked her lips anxiously.
“Yes, it’s a normal part of the approach.”
She pressed a hand to her mouth and slowly turned her head as the trail of lights twisted under the moving plane. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the seat rest between them and he fought the urge to put his arm around her.
He wanted to warm her, soothe and caress her, soften her and then… Typical male. Her words at the site came back to him and he cursed himself. He’d assured her on her first day at the job that he was anything but typical, and he’d live up to that promise if it killed him.
She was seven years younger than him. She knew little of the world, as evidenced by the fact that she’d never been in a plane. He had a responsibility to himself, and to her, to make sure that nothing happened between them. He had a responsibility to Al Mansur Associates, which needed her sharp mind in its offices more than he needed her soft body in his bed.
The plane banked more sharply, turning in preparation for the final approach, and the twin rows of lights on the ground shone brighter and closer in the darkness. A tiny laugh emerged from her tightened throat. “People always see light coming toward them in their final moments, don’t they?”
Instinctively he slid his hand over hers as those troubling protective instincts fired his neurons without asking permission. Her poor hand was so cold, her fingers gripping the metal armrest with grim determination.
“Don’t worry, I’ve landed here probably a thousand times. This turn is a normal part of the…” His words trailed off as she slumped in her seat.
He immediately unbuckled himself and supported her head. He held her steady as the plane bumped down on the tarmac.
“Sara.” He patted her cheek gently with his fingertips. “Wake up.”
Her skin was ghostly pale, her soft lashes lowered, lips slightly parted.
Her breath was sweet on his face as he leaned into her. He allowed his lips to brush her skin as he whispered her name once again. Her cheek was the color and texture of a delicate rose petal. So soft under his lips, cool.
His memory tormented him with the image of Sara drinking in the aroma of the roses he’d given her in his office.
Those roses were nothing but clutter to him until that moment—dying things that mocked him with his own mortality. But as she enjoyed their subtle perfume and admired their doomed loveliness, he had seen their beauty in a new light.
Lately he could see many things in a new light.
Sara was so unlike any other woman he had met. A bewitching blend of innocence and experience, candor and caution, she knew when to listen and learn, and when to take the reins and go her own way. A plain little thing? If only she were.
She didn’t stir.
His arm brushed against her breast as he shifted position. The nipple tightened under her silky shirt in response to his touch. He sucked in a breath.
“Sara.”
He stroked a strand of her golden hair away from her forehead, soft as fresh-spun silk. His fingers struggled with the urge to bury themselves in the fall of hair on her neck and his lips pulsed at the sight of hers, slightly parted as if waiting for a kiss.
The kiss of life?
She is breathing, fool. His urge to settle his mouth over hers had nothing to do with medical exigency.
Elan wheeled around as he heard the door to the cabin open.
“I hope the flight was satisfactory, sir. Good Lord, is she asleep?”
“She’s fainted.”
“But she’s breathing?”
Elan nodded as the pilot strode across the cabin and leaned over Sara. His gut tightened as he watched the other man bend low over her body, close enough to enjoy her scent.
“She’ll be fine.” The aggression in his voice surprised him and caused the pilot to step back. “I shall carry her.”
He took perverse pleasure in bumping the pilot roughly out of his path as he reached for her. He shoved his arms underneath her, steeling himself against the pleasure of touching her.
But no steel could withstand the torturous burden of longing that rocked him as her slender body fell against his.
“Sara.” He uttered her name as a talisman against the forbidden desire that roiled in his belly. It must be a crime of some magnitude to lust after a woman who wasn’t even awake.
Her eyelids fluttered. His heart constricted at the thought of those jade-and-gold eyes opening to meet his. He leaned his face closer to hers, his mouth almost touching the petal softness of her skin. “Wake up,” he whispered.
Her lips parted and a rush of emotion and sensation shook him, making him glad his feet were firmly planted on the floor. He hugged her closer, fighting the urge to kiss her back to wakefulness.
“Er, Mr. Al Mansur, perhaps I should call an ambulance.” The pilot’s voice forced its way into his ears from a million miles away.
“That will not be necessary.” Elan spat the words at him, irritated at the interruption. He wanted to watch his sleeping beauty awaken.
Sara’s golden lashes fluttered again and her eyes sprang open. He felt his face crease into a broad smile as she looked at him in astonishment.
“What the…?” Suddenly her eyes were wide with fear and she kicked and struggled in his grasp. He wrestled to hold her still, not sure why, but enjoying it all the same.
“Put me down!” She writhed like a tiger cub and a huge chuckle welled up inside him and burst out as he lowered her to her feet.
“Gladly, madam.”
She fussed over rearranging her suit and tucking her hair behind her ears. She looked around, obviously trying to get her bearings. “What are you grinning at?” The fire flashed in her eyes.
“I’m glad to see you awakened. And fiery as ever.” He chuckled again.
She glanced quickly around the cabin. “We’ve landed.”
“We have indeed,” he said with mock gravitas. He could not help but enjoy her confusion. Feet planted apart, she stood poised to take on a host of attackers. He was almost tempted to throw a shadow punch and watch her spring at him like a tigress.
The pilot had opened the exterior door. “Perhaps we should help the young lady down the stairs. She may still be light-headed after her fainting spell.”
“Yes, would you please carry our bags?” With one swift step Elan swept Sara off her feet and into his arms. He was unable to suppress another grin as she twisted and wriggled, struggling to free herself from his grip.
“Put me down! I can walk just fine.”
“We’ll take no chances. Your unconsciousness may have aftereffects. I’ll carry you to the ground as a safety precaution.”
“This is ridiculous!”
Sara bucked against him, trying to loosen his grasp. He half expected her to bite him. He merely tightened his arms around her.
“Don’t fight me. I’ll put you down when we reach the ground,” he reiterated. The throaty rasp of his voice surprised him. She gave him one last jab in the ribs with her elbow, which served only to widen his smile.
She jerked her head back to look him in the face. “Stop smirking!”
“Pardon me. I’m simply glad to see you alive and…kicking again.” He bit back another chuckle.
Sara’s lovely face creased into a frown. Somehow it tickled his funny bone more that she couldn’t see the humor in the situation.
Her breath came in quick gasps and his blood surged along with hers as her heart pounded against his chest. Her eyelashes flickered against the harsh spotlight illuminating their descent to the ground. He knew she was shaken by what had happened, and that only fired the protective instincts tightening his arms around her slender body.
Slender, yet substantial. Muscled, taut, the body of a woman who knew how to fight for what she wanted.
And at that moment he knew far too well what he wanted. He was glad the blackness of the night hid the evidence of his desire.
Why on earth was she struggling in such a childish fashion? She could tell he found her resistance entertaining.
His arms had closed around her like steel bands, lifting her from the ground against her will. The urge to resist was instinctive, but hopeless against the solid mass of muscle that was Elan. How on earth a businessman came to be built like an ancient Olympian, she could not begin to imagine.
As she kicked and wriggled, his arms simply tightened more firmly around her in an embrace that clearly demonstrated his superior strength. Heat gathered low in her belly as the hard muscles of his torso crushed against her. His broad hands supported her with an ease that made her feel ridiculously feminine, and she struggled not to enjoy the odd primal pleasure of being gathered and held by such a powerful man.
At the bottom of the stairs he released her and settled her carefully on her feet. She stumbled back, burning hot, her heart slamming against her ribs, her limbs weak.
She was ready to get down on her knees and kiss the blacktop as she recalled the sudden rush of terror that had deprived her of her senses as the plane plunged toward the dark runway.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.” She forced out the lie.
“Can you walk to the car, or would you like me to carry you?” His throaty voice sounded deeper than usual.
Carry me.
“I can walk.” Her voice emerged as a squeak.
She concentrated on putting one wobbly leg in front of the other as Elan took their briefcases from the pilot and strode to his long black sedan. He flung their bags in the back and helped her into the passenger seat before bidding the pilot good-night. Then he settled in behind the wheel and loosened his tie.
“Your address.”
“What?”
“Where do you live? I need to drive you home. Unless you plan on walking.”
“Oh, of course. Five-fifty Railroad Avenue. You take a right off Main.” She wondered what Elan would think of her rather dingy apartment building. The salary he paid could buy her a nice house, but she had other financial obligations. Last week she’d made the first significant payments on her college loans and on her mother’s gargantuan hospital bill, and that was a far greater concern than any luxury dwelling.
He drove away from the airport, silent. The dark roads were deserted, the moon dimmed by wispy clouds. Sara gasped as he braked hard.
“A coyote.”
She saw the flash of reflective eyes in the headlights as the nocturnal creature studied them for a second before slinking off into the desert.
“Wow. That scared me.”
“I’m sure the animal’s fear was greater than yours. The twin moons of our headlights sweeping though the desert must be an alarming sight for the night creatures.”
“I know how they feel. Apparently I haven’t evolved along with the rest of Western civilization because my body didn’t take too kindly to flying through the air. I’m sorry to cause such a scene at both ends of the trip.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He turned to her and his warm smile made her suck in an unexpected breath.
Stop it, Sara!
Even the gentle pressure of her seat belt made her recall—with a harrowing mix of remorse and pleasure—the far more insistent pressure of Elan’s arms around her.
He’d removed his jacket to drive and his sleeves were rolled up. One big hand gripped the wheel, holding it steady as they ate up the long, straight road through the empty desert.
“I’m hungry,” he announced, as they entered the neon-lit oasis of the town.
“Me, too.” In more ways than one.
“Let’s pick up something to eat. What would you like?”
“I don’t know the restaurants. I haven’t bought takeout since I’ve been here.” Trying too hard to squirrel away every penny.
“The fried chicken is good. And the food at the Mexican place is always fresh.”
Sara turned to look at Elan, who studied the neon signs with keen interest. Somehow it shocked her that he would eat takeout fried chicken like a regular person.
“Whatever you prefer.”
“I believe I prefer steak fajitas.” He turned to her with a raised eyebrow.
“Sounds good.”
Yikes. As he pulled up she could see it was a drive-through. Did this mean she should invite him into her apartment to eat it? Or would he expect to drop her off with her dinner and return home to eat his?
Probably the latter.
He picked up their food at the drive-through window and handed it to Sara. Lord, she was hungry. The zesty aroma of grilled steak and onions filled the car and made her stomach growl. He chuckled.
“Your hunger is getting the better of you.”
Don’t I know it? She shifted in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable as she watched his broad hand settle over the gear shift and push it into Drive. She resisted the urge to fan herself or turn the air-conditioning on full as they pulled back onto the road.