Nicola Marsh - Hired by Mr. Right

Fine with her. The less time she spent around the semi-naked tyrant, the better. In fact, everything about the job had worked in her favour to date and she hoped her luck would hold out.

Fixing a placating smile on her face, she nodded. ‘Certainly. Where would you like me to start?’

He stared at her for an interminable moment, before turning away and heading to the bathroom. ‘Meet me in the study in fifteen minutes. We’ll discuss today’s agenda then.’

Feeling suitably dismissed, she gave a mock salute behind his back and headed for the door.

‘Oh, Samantha. There’s one more thing.’ His commanding tone halted her and she swivelled to face him. ‘Lose the uniform.’

‘Now?’ The response slipped out before she knew it, typical of the feisty banter she was used to exchanging with her brothers’ friends, who were like family. However, Dylan’s response was far from familial.

He strolled across the room and leaned a hand on the door, effectively barring her escape. ‘Since when did the hired help get so provocative?’ His gaze skimmed her face before dropping lower, sending her heart galloping at breakneck speed.

‘Since when did the employer think he could ask questions like that?’ She stilled as he reached towards her and ran a finger down her cheek, sending her nerve endings haywire in the process.

‘Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to answer a question with a question?’ His finger dropped away as it reached her jaw and, strangely, she missed his brief touch.

‘No, but she taught me to stay away from men like you.’ She tilted her chin up, determined not to let him see how he affected her.

‘Men like me?’ He folded his arms, drawing attention to his broad, naked expanse of chest.

Her mouth dried as her gaze strayed to his pecs, noting a light smattering of dark hair that attracted rather than repelled. Swallowing, she looked him in the eyes, hoping her interest didn’t show. ‘You know. Egotistical, over-confident, world-beaters. Used to getting what they want and letting nothing or nobody stand in their way.’

He smiled, the self-satisfied grin of a cat toying with a mouse. ‘Didn’t know I was so transparent. Lucky my butler has a degree in psychology as well as servitude. What other talents are you hiding?’

Sam bit back a host of retorts. Thankfully, her mouth and brain had finally decided to work in sync. ‘None. Now that we’ve got you sorted out, perhaps I should make a start on the rest of that servitude stuff and organise breakfast in the study for our meeting?’ She had to escape and soon. Having her sexy, bare-chested boss standing too close for comfort was doing strange things to her insides. Not to mention addling her brain.

The warmth drained from his face in an instant and she wondered at the abrupt change. ‘Fine. See you there.’

He opened the door and she brushed past him on her way out, wishing he didn’t look and smell so darn good. Just her luck that her new boss would be thirty-something and gorgeous rather than ancient and decrepit like most of the rich landowners in Australia.

‘One more thing, Samantha.’ His serious tone stopped her.

‘Yes?’ She turned to see him framed in the doorway, looking every bit the consummate millionaire, even without clothes.

‘Welcome to the Harmon world.’

Before she could respond he closed the door, leaving her with a distinct feeling that while he’d welcomed her to his world, he’d just turned hers upside down.

Dylan stalked into his mother’s sitting room after a brief knock on the door.

Liz Harmon looked up from the newspaper she had spread across the table. ‘Good morning, darling. Sleep well?’

With a perfunctory nod, he sat opposite her. ‘I met the butler.’

His mother’s face lit up. ‘Isn’t Sam wonderful? She came highly recommended.’

‘From where? Butlers-R-Us?’

‘Don’t take that tone with me, young man. What seems to be the problem?’

Dylan fiddled with the knife-edge crease of his trousers. ‘She’s totally unsuitable. Too young, too feisty, too—’

‘Beautiful?’ Liz interrupted. ‘You did notice, didn’t you, or has all work and no play made you a dull boy?’

A vision of Sam flashed into his mind, those startling green eyes staring at him as he’d touched her silky-soft cheek. Thankfully, she’d been looking at his face and not lower, where the evidence of how she’d affected him would have been plain to see beneath the cotton towel.

‘I noticed,’ he said, wondering if it sounded like the understatement of the year. ‘Though what her looks have to do with it, I’ll never know. It’s her qualifications I’m interested in.’

Liz nodded and gave him one of those knowing smiles, the kind she’d been bestowing since he’d eaten his first bug against her instructions and thrown up, at four years of age. ‘She came highly recommended. I spoke with Ebony Larkin, her main referee.’

His eyebrows shot up. ‘She’s worked for the Larkins?’

Liz nodded. ‘Trust me, darling. I wouldn’t have hired just anybody to be your butler. I know how much you need the help.’

‘I’m doing fine on my own, Mum.’

‘No, you’re not. Between running the business, inspecting the lands around Budgeree and looking after the family, you’re worn out.’ She paused and he waited for the inevitable reference to his single status. Predictably, his mother didn’t disappoint. ‘Besides, you never have time for fun any more. When are you going to meet a nice young woman to make your life complete?’

‘My life is complete and I like it just the way it is, thanks very much.’ He ignored the swift rising bitterness whenever the subject of women entered their conversations. He’d tried the relationship merry-go-round and had hopped off as soon as humanly possible, managing to get his heart trampled in the process. As far as he was concerned, women and serious commitment didn’t belong in the same sentence, especially with females who looked good, had the right family credentials yet lied through their expensively-capped teeth to get what they wanted. Which, in his case, happened to be the Harmon name and fortune.

And he’d worked too damn hard to let his family’s wealth fall into unscrupulous hands.

‘You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, Son. You’ve taken this business to the next level all on your own.’

‘But Dad would’ve wanted more.’ Hell, his ambitious father wouldn’t have stopped till he owned the whole of Victoria and then some.

‘He would’ve wanted you to be happy, not running yourself into the ground.’ She didn’t have to add, like he did.

His workaholic father had taken the word ‘work’ to new levels, driving himself to skyrocketing profit margins but into an early grave in the process. Dylan still missed him after ten years.

‘Besides, don’t you think you’re taking the role of family protector a tad too seriously? Most of us can take care of ourselves, you know.’

Dylan rolled his eyes. ‘Yeah, sure. Then why is Meg running around placing racy underwear in my drawer? And why is Allie traipsing round the world like a lost soul?’ He stared at his mother, noting her wrinkle-free skin, the clear eyes, the black hair with barely a grey streak. ‘Not to mention you.’

The corners of Liz’s mouth twitched. ‘Your nieces are more than capable of taking care of themselves. Besides, what have I done?’

He tried a frown and failed. ‘You’re trying to matchmake yet again. And I’m not interested.’

His mother smirked. ‘I’m not trying anything. If you’ve got romantic thoughts where the new butler is concerned, that’s not my doing.’

‘The butler?’ Sam Piper and him, romantically linked? Not a hope in hell. He shook his head, trying to ignore her alluring image again. ‘No, Mum, I was talking about Monique and that dinner party you’ve organised. Didn’t you think I’d see through the ruse?’