Darcy Maguire - At The Boss's Command

He could have gone on for years, trying to make it work, pushing her to see a counsellor with him, attempting to recapture the magic of those early days. Her spending hadn’t mattered. He had been making enough to fund her passion for designer clothes, shoes and jewellery.

All he had wanted was for her to love him again.

He hadn’t known what he’d done wrong.

Hadn’t known what to do next.

He’d gone home early that day to beg for her help in saving their marriage, rekindling the magic, sharing in finding the solution that eluded him. What he’d found was Celia sharing herself with some bronzed stud in their bed.

Case closed his eyes, the image scored in his mind. He was a fool. Even then he would have tried again, would have burdened the blame, just to get her to want to save their marriage as much as he had wanted to.

She hadn’t. She’d wanted a divorce, half of what was left of his assets and to be rid of him.

Thanks to several savvy lawyers involved in their pre-marital agreement, she’d only got two out of three.

Case ran a hand through his hair, cringing. It was nearly a year since the divorce had finally been settled. Logic suggested it was long enough to get on with life, but the wounds he bore still ached deep in his chest.

The betrayal was going to take longer to get over and he was strong enough to ignore Tahlia’s lush peach lips, those dazzling green eyes, her sweet voice and intriguing focus on business.

The knock startled him. Case turned. Tahlia Moran stood at his door in a short black skirt that showed just how long and shapely her legs were, the slight curve of her hips and her narrow waist.

Her hands were on her hips, her lips pursed. ‘Ready, Mr Darrington?’ she lilted, her voice sweet as apple blossom.

Maybe not. Case swallowed hard, pulling at his tie and straightening it, his blood roaring hot and fiery through him.

He couldn’t deny he was attracted. But he didn’t need to take any risks. He could keep it light. Keep it simple. Get to know the woman, with no strings and no complications.

He wasn’t going to get distracted from WWW Designs, no matter what Tahlia Moran made him feel. Tahlia stood in Case The Target Darrington’s doorway, her cheeks heating under the warmth of his gaze and the way his eyes caressed her.

She could feel everything traitorously warming.

‘So?’ she offered, crossing the files in her hands over her breasts, lingering in the doorway, grinding her teeth, glaring at the man who had stolen the only thing that really mattered.

Her work was her anchor and the darned waters had changed on her—she was no longer tethered to rock, she was drifting and she hated it.

She’d even emailed the girls an SOS in desperation to get them over to her place tonight to help her with this dilemma.

How was she going to get the information she needed out of the guy? It was one problem she could do with help with.

Tahlia bit her bottom lip. She didn’t like asking for help…would play it down tonight and smoothly draw their wisdom without sounding needy.

She didn’t need anyone.

He cleared his throat. ‘So you’re here.’

She nodded, looking away from the window to his paintings on the walls. ‘Ye-es.’ Did he suspect she was going to give the note a close encounter with the shredder and plead ignorance of receiving it rather than accept his invitation?

But she was a professional who was going to use the opportunity of lunch to find out exactly what was on Case’s CV that entitled him to her job.

He stood up. ‘Ready for lunch?’

‘Sure, but why are we going to lunch?’ she asked carefully, keeping her eyes on him and not on the view.

‘I really need to come up to speed fast. Find out about the office dynamics as quickly as possible to maximise my position here.’

She couldn’t help but smile. He sounded just like she would if she was dropped into his situation, although she would never crush the dreams of someone else who’d earned the promotion through damned hard work.

Darrington straightened his suit jacket, the fabric looking even finer and more expensive as he got closer to her. It must have cost a fortune to have it made from a fabric like that, and to hug his wide shoulders, taunting everyone in the vicinity…

Who was this guy?

She had to find out and then do something about him…

‘What?’ he asked, his voice deep and husky, his gaze on her mouth.

She shook herself, trying to stop the smile.

His blue eyes glittered. ‘Your smile is—’

‘Hungry. I’m hungry.’ She cast a look at her watch. ‘I’ll meet you at Sammy’s, the coffee shop, in half an hour, okay?’

He nodded, his gaze still on her lips.

She tried to smother the smile, tried to think of something else other than sweet revenge for every thwarted nobody who’d been stomped on by a rich somebody.

She didn’t want him to guess what she was up to.

She hoped he liked surprises.

‘I deserve the best and I accept the promotion now.’ Because I’m willing to do whatever it takes, because

I’m worth it, because he’s an arrogant, wealthy sexy-as-hell annoying man who doesn’t deserve it.

‘So.’ TAHLIA handed the menu back to the waitress. ‘Apart from being partial to fish and chips, what titbits do you have to share about yourself so I can spread them all over the office by the end of the working day?’

Case put down his lemon squash, trying not to smile at the woman’s amazing frankness. Was she for real? He wasn’t sure what to make of her or the incredible feeling he had deep inside whenever he was near her.

And she’d said yes. She’d agreed to lunch with him, which could be construed as an indication that she may like him. She had to know as well as he did that they could have discussed anything at the office.

And she was asking a lot of questions. He probably shouldn’t see her wanting to know about him as anything more than face-value gossip for the office, but he couldn’t help feeling it was more. ‘For the record it was a fillet of the finest deep sea dory, garden salad and fries.’

She fixed him with her sea-green gaze. ‘So you are a snob.’

He leant back in his seat, considering her challenge. ‘And you’re against snobs?’

‘Isn’t everyone?’ she lilted, raising a finely arched eyebrow at him.

‘Well, not the snobs, obviously,’ he murmured, his gaze on her glistening peach lips, which were as mesmerising as the words coming from them. No one had challenged him on this level before. Because he was too rich to be a snob or too rich to be called one to his face?

She straightened the cutlery in front of her, her long fringe falling over her right eye. ‘Right. Snobs stick together.’

‘I’d say so.’ He clasped his glass tightly, the urge to smooth that lock of hair back from her face excruciatingly tempting.

‘You don’t sound so sure. Don’t you know a snob, maybe intimately?’

‘If you’re asking me if I’m a snob, then no, I’m not,’ he said as casually as he could, the buzz that she was interested enough to want to know filling his head, and other places.

‘Well, a snob would say that.’ She crossed her arms over her full breasts. ‘Where were you born, where did you grow up and where did you go to school?’

Case stared at the dazzling woman opposite. Blunt and forward, like he’d never experienced before. And he wanted to give her all the answers she needed, as honestly as he could, as long as she didn’t find out why he was really at WWW.

He took a sip of his drink and placed it down gently on the small round table between them. ‘Born to John and Marie Darrington in Melbourne. Was raised modestly in Toorak by said parents. Went to school first at Stott’s College then did a business degree at Melbourne University.’