Seduced By The Boss
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He drew her into his arms and held her close, swaying with her. Weird how she fitted perfectly into his arms, all warm and soft and sweet. Maybe the romance of the engagement party had got to him, or maybe he’d drunk too much champagne, but he couldn’t resist holding her just that little bit closer, dancing cheek to cheek with her. He could smell the soft floral scent she wore—gardenia, perhaps? It was enchanting: much like Bella herself.
And from dancing cheek to cheek it was the tiniest, tiniest move to kissing her. All he had to do was twist his head ever so slightly and brush the corner of her mouth with his lips.
Should he?
And what would she do if he did?
If she moved away, he’d stop, he promised himself.
Except she didn’t move away. When he kissed the corner of her mouth, she twisted her head ever so slightly towards him, so her mouth brushed against his properly.
And Hugh was completely lost.
He tightened his arms round her and kissed her again, teasing her mouth with tiny, nibbling kisses until she let her lips part and he could deepen the kiss. It felt as if he were floating on air. Every sense was filled by her. And it had been a long, long time since he’d felt anything even approaching this.
He wasn’t sure how long it was until he broke the kiss. But her mouth was reddened and her eyes were wide and bemused; he was pretty sure he looked in a similar state.
They needed to get out of here, before someone noticed or commented.
‘Come with me?’ he asked softly. ‘Away from the crowd?’
She nodded, and he tangled his fingers with hers and led her quietly out of the ballroom and down the corridor to a room he knew would still be in darkness.
‘Where are we?’ Bella asked when Hugh led her into a darkened room.
‘The orangery,’ he said.
Once her eyes grew accustomed to the light, she realised that one whole wall was made of glass, and the moonlight shone through onto an ancient chequered red and cream flagstone floor. All along the walls were massive terracotta pots containing what she presumed were citrus trees; there were a couple of what looked like wrought-iron benches between the pots.
‘Wait,’ he said, and let go of her hand.
A few moments later, she heard a soft click, and then suddenly the room was glowing softly with dozens of tiny fairy lights twined round the stems of the trees.
‘Hugh, this is amazing,’ she said in delight. ‘It’s magical.’
‘Isn’t it just?’ he said. ‘We had a film crew here when I was in my teens, and the set designer said this was where people would sneak off for some privacy at a Regency house party, among the lemons and limes and oranges. She reckoned they’d have had candles and it would’ve been beautiful.’
‘Just like this.’
He nodded. ‘Someone suggested fairy lights as a modern take on it without the fire risk. Since then, we’ve often sat out here after the sun sets, just watching the stars, with the fairy lights on. And a heater, in winter, because otherwise it’s absolutely freezing.’ He came back to hold her hand, and drew her over to one of the benches. ‘This is probably my favourite place in the house. Even in the daytime, it’s lovely.’
He’d promised her a guided tour of the house tomorrow, and she intended to hold him to that. But right now, when he sat down on one of the wrought iron benches and drew her onto his lap, she couldn’t think straight. All she could do was to put her arms round his neck for balance. And from there it was one tiny step to kissing him again.
Time seemed to stop. It was just them, the moonlight and the fairy lights. Nobody came out to find them or ask Hugh to play the piano or Bella to sketch. They could’ve been light years away from anywhere.
But they could still hear the music.
‘Dance with me?’ he asked.
Even though part of her knew that this wasn’t sensible—it was too intimate, just the two of them in the orangery among the fairy lights—how could she resist?
They swayed together in the room.
Any moment now, she thought, he’d say something to remind her that they were both playing a part.
And yet he didn’t. He just danced with her. Held her close. Cherished her.
It was so long since she’d been held like that. It made her feel warm inside. Warm all over. And when Hugh rested his cheek against hers, even though she’d promised herself she’d be sensible, she found herself moving that little bit closer to him. Turning her head so her mouth made contact with the corner of his. His arms tightened round her and he moved his head too, so his lips brushed against hers. Once, twice: and then he was kissing her with abandon, and she was kissing him right back.
She was dizzy with desire when he broke the kiss.
‘Hugh—I, we...’ She couldn’t think straight. There was something important she had to say, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember what it was. She just wanted him to kiss her again.
She trailed her fingertips across his cheek, liking the very faint scratch of stubble. ‘You’re beautiful,’ she said. ‘Poster-boy beautiful.’
He turned his head and pressed a kiss into her palm. ‘Less of the boy, thank you.’
Oh, yes. He was all man. ‘I didn’t mean it that way,’ she said. ‘Just that you’re beautiful.’
‘So are you.’ He kissed her again. ‘You make me ache.’
She dragged in a breath. ‘Ditto.’ An ache of wanting, of need. He was driving her crazy with his nearness.
‘I know this isn’t supposed to be happening, but right now,’ he said softly, ‘I don’t want to go back and join the others. I want to carry you up the stairs to your bed.’
The big, wide four-poster.
‘I want to make love with you, Bella.’
A shiver of pure desire ran down her spine.
She knew they shouldn’t be doing this. It wasn’t what they’d agreed. She was his pretend girlfriend, not his real one. He was her boss. It could have major repercussions and she could end up in another financial mess. They really ought to stop this right now and remember who and where they were. She opened her mouth, intending to say that they shouldn’t.
Then again, this wasn’t real. And she knew neither of them was looking for for ever. Kirk had wiped out her trust in relationships, and from the little Hugh had said about his ex she was pretty sure that he felt the same way. He wasn’t looking for The One, any more than she was.
They were both adults.
There was no reason why they shouldn’t act on the attraction between them, just for one night.
So instead, she said softly, ‘Tonight’s just tonight. A one-off.’
His eyes looked almost navy blue in the soft light. ‘No strings.’
‘No promises.’ She didn’t believe in promises any more. ‘No for ever.’
‘No promises and no for ever,’ he echoed.
‘Then do it,’ she said softly.
He kissed her once. Hard. And then he scooped her up into his arms, pausing only to switch off the fairy lights, and carried her down the corridor and up a quiet flight of stairs to her bedroom.
CHAPTER SIX
THE NEXT MORNING, Bella woke to find a warm body curled round hers. For a moment, she couldn’t place where she was and why on earth a naked male body would be in her bed at all, let alone wrapped round her.
Then she remembered.
Hugh.
She went hot as she thought about the previous night. The way he’d kissed her in the orangery among the fairy lights until she’d been dizzy. The way he’d actually carried her up to her bed. The way he’d undressed her, and then made love to her until she’d seen stars.
Right now, the way he was holding her made her feel special. Even though she wasn’t really Hugh’s girlfriend, and they weren’t in any kind of relationship other than that of employee and boss—just for a moment, Bella could imagine what it would be like if this was the real deal instead of an elaborate fiction. She’d spent the last six months feeling stupid and useless and pathetic, after Kirk’s betrayal. Last night, Hugh had made her feel good again. Not just the sex, either. He’d danced with her, laughed with her—believed in her.
Would last night have changed everything between them? They’d agreed that this was a one-off. No strings. No promises. No for ever. But could they still work together after this? Or would she have to resign?
They’d have to talk—really talk—and maybe redraw the ground rules.
Nothing fazes a Faraday girl, she reminded herself.
Except the mantra felt hollow.
Right now, she really didn’t know what to do. Did she stay where she was and wait for him to wake up? Or did she creep out of bed and get dressed—or would that make facing him even more awkward?
Hugh woke to find himself curled round a warm female body.
Bella.
He remembered the previous night in full Technicolor, and panic slid down his spine. Why had he been so stupid?
It was a physical thing, that was all, he told himself. It was obvious why it had happened. He hadn’t satisfied any physical urges for a while. Maybe it’d been the same for her. They’d both drunk too much champagne, they’d danced together, they found each other attractive, and they’d just given in to the temptation.
He sighed inwardly. Just who was he trying to kid?
If he was honest with himself, he’d been attracted to Bella since the first moment he’d met her. Her bright blue eyes, her bubbly personality, the way she opened her mouth and just said what was in her head without thinking it through. Not to mention the way she’d been there for her sister; Bella Faraday had a good heart. He really liked that about her.
But he still shouldn’t have let things go this far between them. They were going to have to talk, really talk, and redraw the ground rules. Because Bella was a great designer, perfect for Insurgo, and Tarquin would have his guts for garters if she left the company just because Hugh hadn’t been able to keep his hands—or anything else, for that matter—to himself.
He lay there, trying to think what to say. Even though they’d both agreed that last night was a one-off, would she feel differently this morning? And, if she did, how was he going to handle it?
He knew that Bella wasn’t like Jessie. But he just didn’t trust his own judgement any more. He didn’t want to take the risk of getting involved with anyone, so it was easier not to start something that was likely to end up in a mess.
Eventually he became aware that Bella’s breathing was no longer deep and even, and her body was slightly tense. Clearly she was awake.
Was she, too, remembering what had happened?
Did she, too, think about turning round and kissing him hello, the way he wanted to kiss her right now?
Or was she full of regrets and awkwardness and embarrassment?
Right now, he didn’t have a clue. But he knew he was going to have to do the right thing rather than ignoring the rest of the world and making love with her all over again. They had to talk.
‘Bella?’ he whispered.
‘Uh-huh.’ She sounded worried.
He resisted the urge to kiss her bare shoulder. No matter how much he wanted to touch her, taste her, he had to keep himself in check. Carefully, he withdrew his arms from round her. Odd how cold it made him feel. ‘I think we need to talk.’
‘Uh-huh,’ she said again, and turned to face him. ‘OK. I’ll say it first. I know we agreed that last night was a one-off, but it really shouldn’t have happened at all.’
Relief coursed through him. If she knew it, too, then it meant that things weren’t going to be awkward between them. They could still work together. He wouldn’t have to find another designer.
He tried to ignore the fact that another emotion underpinned the relief. It was ridiculous to feel disappointed, especially as he didn’t want to risk starting another relationship. He knew he was better off on his own, concentrating on his business.
‘Last night was last night,’ he said.
‘Exactly. You know the Vegas principle?’
‘The Vegas principle?’ he asked, not quite following her train of thought.
‘You know—what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas,’ she explained.
‘Ah. Yes.’
‘I think we should apply that to last night,’ she said carefully.
He agreed. Completely. ‘So you’re not going to resign because I couldn’t keep my hands to myself?’ he asked.
‘And you’re not going to sack me because I didn’t stick to our plan?’
Clearly she didn’t want to leave her job, either. Which was a very, very good thing. ‘Apart from the fact that I don’t have any grounds to sack you, you’re good at your job. Tarquin would kill me if I made you leave.’
Was it his imagination, or was there a flash of disappointment in her eyes?
He wasn’t going to analyse that too closely. Much better to let each other off the hook instead than to get tied up with all the complications. And he definitely shouldn’t tell her that he didn’t want her to leave because he liked having her around. That’d be way too much pressure on both of them.
‘What happened last night—we don’t talk about it ever again. And it’s not going to be repeated,’ she said.
‘Agreed,’ he said.
She took a deep breath. ‘So we stick to the plan from here on, and I’m back to playing Miss Ditzy this morning.’
‘Uh-huh.’ Even though he knew she wasn’t very good at it. Yesterday, although she’d tried, her true self had just shone through the play-acting. And his family had responded in kind: warmth generating warmth.
If only he’d met her years ago. When he was still able to trust. But there was no point in wishing for something he couldn’t have.
‘What’s the agenda for today?’ she asked. ‘You promised me a guided tour of the house.’
And he’d make very sure that the orangery wasn’t part of that. Because then he’d remember how it had been last night and he’d want to kiss her again. It would be very stupid to put himself back in the path of temptation. ‘Of course,’ he said, ‘and everyone’s going for a walk between breakfast and lunch.’
‘I have a really unsuitable outfit for that,’ she said. ‘Totally impractical spike-heeled mules that I can totter about in.’
‘They sound perfect.’ He paused. ‘I guess we ought to, um, get up and face everyone downstairs for breakfast. I’ll, um, go next door and have a shower.’ Even though part of him would much prefer staying here and having a shower with her.
‘Uh-huh.’
Was she relieved or disappointed that he was going? He hadn’t a clue. And he wasn’t going to ask. ‘I’ll knock for you when I’m ready, shall I?’
This time she definitely looked relieved. He winced inwardly. Did she really think that he’d leave her to find her own way through the house, and then face his family on her own? Or maybe that was the way her ex had treated her. Again, he couldn’t really ask. Not without maybe ripping open some scars, and he didn’t want to hurt her.
‘See you in a bit, then,’ she said. And then she closed her eyes.
Was she feeling shy? Or was she trying to spare his blushes?
He climbed out of bed, pulled on his boxer shorts, grabbed the rest of his clothes—and then made the mistake of glancing back at the bed. She looked so cute, lying there. Warm and sweet. He almost dropped his clothes back on the floor and climbed back in beside her again. Especially as he remembered last night so clearly. Touching her. Tasting her. The look of sheer pleasure in her eyes just before she’d fallen apart. The soft little cry she’d made when she’d climaxed in his arms.
No, no and absolutely no.
Common sense won—just—and he managed to get back to his own room without bumping into anyone in the corridor.
Showering helped to restore a little more of his common sense, once he’d turned the temperature of the water right down. Once he’d dressed, he stripped the bed, threw everything into his case, and knocked on Bella’s door.
‘Come in,’ she called.
She was just closing the lid of her suitcase, and she was wearing a strappy top and the shortest pair of denim cut-offs he’d ever seen. Her legs went on for ever. And his tongue felt as if it was glued to the roof of his mouth.
It grew even worse when she gave a little wiggle. Her bottom had the most perfect curve, and it made him want to touch her again.
‘Is this ditzy enough?’ she asked with a grin, seemingly oblivious to the desire coursing through him.
‘Uh—yeah.’ And now he sounded like a total troglodyte. He didn’t want her to guess the effect she had on him, particularly as he knew she wasn’t doing it deliberately. Bella wasn’t a game-player. ‘I need some coffee,’ he gabbled wildly. ‘You know I’m not a morning person.’
‘Coffee sounds good. Would you mind, um, showing me where I can make some?’
‘There’s probably already a pot on the go downstairs.’
Though now they had to face his family at the breakfast table. Please don’t let any of them start asking questions about where he and Bella had disappeared to last night, he begged silently.
When he ushered Bella into the kitchen, his brothers and their partners were all sitting there, along with Sophia in her high chair; his mother was bustling around and his father was deep in the Sunday newspapers. He narrowed his eyes at them all in warning that they were absolutely not to say a single word, and to his relief they actually went along with him, saying nothing more awkward to her than a cheerful, ‘Good morning.’
Without another word, he pulled out a chair at the table for Bella, then sat down next to her.
‘Would you like tea or coffee?’ Libby asked, coming over to them.
‘Coffee, please,’ Bella said. ‘Can I do anything to help?’
‘No, sweetie, it’s fine. Bacon sandwich? I’m just about to do another batch.’
‘Yes, please.’ Bella smiled. ‘Bacon and sandwich have to be the two most perfect words for a Sunday morning.’
‘And coffee,’ Nigel added with a smile. ‘Don’t forget coffee. Especially where Hugh’s concerned.’
‘I reckon it’ll be another twenty minutes before we get a civil word out of our Hugh,’ Julian teased.
‘And the rest! He only ever grunts before midday,’ Alastair added. ‘Even with coffee.’
‘Now, now, children,’ Libby said, mock-warning.
Bella was really enjoying the byplay between Hugh and his brothers. She missed chatting in the kitchen with her mum and her sister on Sunday morning, when her dad would be deep in the Sunday papers in the living room and they would talk about anything and everything—from films to books to seriously girly stuff that would make her dad squirm.
Then her smile faded. If any of her family knew what had happened last night... Well. Nobody would be surprised. If there was a way to mess things up, Bella would be the one to find it. But she and Hugh had agreed that they’d act as if last night hadn’t happened.
She just hoped that he meant it.
The kitchen was amazing, a huge room with cream cupboards and tiled floors, with an Aga and an island workstation as well as the breakfast area with the massive table looking out onto the garden. There were comfortable-looking dog beds next to the Aga, but Bella had already worked out that the Labrador, the Westie and the spaniel were all sitting under the table, waiting patiently for treats to be sneaked down to them. ‘Your kitchen’s really lovely, Libby,’ she said.
‘Thank you,’ Libby replied, putting a plate of bacon sandwiches onto the table. ‘Has Hugh shown you the rest of the house yet?’
Only the orangery. And Bella had to fight to prevent the blush that threatened to betray her. ‘Not yet,’ she said.
‘I promised I’d do that before we go out for our walk,’ Hugh drawled.
‘Make sure you do,’ Libby said.
Bella noticed that little Sophia was fussing in her high chair; both Poppy and Julian looked exhausted, and she guessed that Sophia had slept badly during the night, meaning that so had her parents. ‘Can I give her a cuddle?’ Bella asked.
Poppy looked torn between wariness and gratitude.
‘One of my friends does music classes for babies and toddlers,’ Bella said. ‘So I know a few things that might help distract her—then you might be able to have your breakfast in peace.’
‘You haven’t had your own breakfast yet,’ Poppy said.
‘I’ll be fine.’ Bella shrugged and smiled. ‘So can I?’
Poppy smiled back at her. ‘Thank you.’
Bella didn’t quite dare look at Hugh as she scooped Sophia out of the high chair and then settled the baby on her lap. But Sophia clearly enjoyed being bounced to ‘Humpty Dumpty’ and ‘Row, Row, Row Your Boat’ and the other nursery songs Bella could remember, and she was gurgling with delight when Julian picked her up from Bella’s lap again.
‘Eat your bacon sandwich before it gets cold,’ he said, patting her shoulder. ‘And thank you for cheering up Miss Grumpy here.’
‘Any time,’ Bella said with a smile.
‘Can I help with the washing up?’ Bella asked when she’d finished her sandwich.
Libby shook her head. ‘No, sweetie. Thank you for the offer, but it’s fine.’
‘The kitchen is Ma’s domain,’ Nigel explained.
‘My mum’s the same, except we all pitch in and help when we have family over for lunch, because it’s really not fair to make someone peel all the veg on their own,’ Bella said.
‘Well, if you really want to, you can help me with the veg,’ Libby conceded. ‘But let Hugh show you round first.’
‘Hint taken,’ Hugh said and stood up. ‘Come on, Bella.’
She took his hand and let him lead her out of the kitchen.
He dropped her hand again, the minute they were out of sight. ‘Guided tour,’ he said, and proceeded to whisk her through the house. The house was glorious, with mullioned windows upstairs and floor-to-ceiling windows downstairs.
‘Hugh,’ she said when he’d taken her swiftly through the library, not even letting her browse a single shelf in the acres of shelving.
‘What?’
‘What did I do wrong?’ she asked.
‘Nothing.’ But his voice was clipped.
She sighed. ‘Was it because I cuddled the baby? I like babies, Hugh. And I like your family.’
‘You’re meant to be unsuitable,’ he reminded her.
‘Even unsuitable girlfriends can like babies.’
‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘Drawing room.’ There were comfortable chairs and amazing artwork on the walls, and a den with a state of the art television and music system.
‘Dining room.’
She’d already seen this the previous day, and the ballroom—though it was much less intimidating now it was empty. She was almost tempted to ask him to play something for her on the piano, something soft and gentle for a Sunday morning, but there was an odd expression on his face and she didn’t quite dare.
So much for the Vegas principle. He was clearly finding it hard to ignore what had happened between them.
And that was probably why he didn’t show her the orangery in daylight. It would’ve been too much of a reminder of how reckless they’d been.
‘Do you want your family to think we’ve had a fight?’ she asked when he’d finished the tour and was leading her back to the kitchen.
‘Fight? Oh.’ The penny clearly dropped, and he took her hand again.
Except it felt grudging.
Considering that he’d been the one to come up with the idea of the unsuitable girlfriend in the first place, Bella wanted to shake him by the scruff of his neck. ‘You have to be the most difficult man in the universe,’ she muttered.
He didn’t disagree with her. And she had the nasty feeling that she was going to be looking for another job, pretty soon. She just hoped that Tarquin would give her a decent reference—she certainly wasn’t going to ask Hugh. And she wasn’t telling Grace about any of this. So much for standing on her own two feet and getting her life in shape. She’d just messed up again. Big time.