Nicola Marsh - Wild Nights with her Wicked Boss

She admired his boldness, the way he challenged her with his eyes even if she didn’t have a clue what he expected from her or why he was playing some warped game only he knew the rules of.

‘As is fraternising with staff.’

Fraternising? What the hell did that mean? If he thought she’d sleep with him to get this job, he could think again.

‘I doubt the boss would approve of his employees fraternising,’ she said, swallowing to ease her tight throat.

If this job weren’t so important she would’ve gladly told Superman what he could do with his fraternising.

‘What about with the boss himself?’

His stare trapped her and she knew exactly how the Penguin felt, though it only took her a second to realise she’d mixed up her analogies. Wasn’t that Batman? Personally, she’d always been a Superman type of girl and this guy wasn’t letting her forget it.

‘Jade, I asked you a question.’

He leaned forward and once again that muscular chest strained against the confines of his shirt, threatening to burst out all over the place. She stifled a sigh, thinking it had been ages since she’d seen any seam-ripping action. Like never.

‘A pointless question. I’m here to work, not fraternise. Besides, arrogant men can be tiresome and Mr Cartwright sounds like he’s right up there with the best of them. He’ll be my boss and I’ll respect him, but that’s about as far as it goes.’ There, perhaps her holier-than-thou speech might get a reaction out of him?

To her amazement he laughed, a rich, vibrant sound that sent appreciative thrills down her spine and all her good intentions to ignore him scuttling for cover.

‘I like a woman with strong opinions. You’re hired.’

‘Pardon?’

He leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head, overconfident, overbearing, overwhelming.

‘You heard me. Welcome to the firm.’

Jade tried to ignore her heart’s erratic reaction as his cocky grin widened. Okay, Superman was her new boss. So what if he knocked the socks off her? She just had to remind her clothes not to follow suit.

Annoyed at her physical reaction, she sat straighter. She should be ecstatic she’d got the job, though a small part of her felt cheated. She’d expected a proper interview, a chance to impress with her enthusiasm, not some odd cat-and-mouse game.

‘You certainly have an interesting interview technique. Where did you pick it up? Bosses-R-Us?’

He ignored her barb, though his smirk said it all. ‘Call me Rhys. We’re fairly informal around here.’

His confident tone rankled as much as his smug expression.

‘Does that informality extend to harassing prospective employees?’

He frowned, sat forward and placed both hands on the desk, asserting his power.

‘What I put you through was a test. Unconventional, I know, even unfair, but I’m the boss and what I say goes.’

She shook her head, resisting the urge to stab a pen through his hand. ‘I’m not some crash-test dummy you can experiment with.’

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. ‘No, I guess not.’

An awkward silence lingered before she blurted, ‘Look, I’m really keen to start. Do you want to ask me any questions? Check out my credentials?’

She could’ve bitten her tongue as his gaze briefly flicked over her, checking out credentials of a different kind.

For a brief moment she wanted to get the hell out of here, job or not. But she couldn’t. The memory of the last confrontation with her parents, the truth of Julian’s treachery, hadn’t waned. If anything, the truth about her family, her fiancé, motivated her to stick this out, whatever warped game her new boss was playing.

After another lengthy pause, he nodded, curt, dismissive, as he gestured to her résumé sitting on top of the desk.

‘You’ve ticked all the boxes—sense of adventure, love of nature, excellent customer service skills and an advanced certificate in first aid. Looks like you match our job description.’

Grateful play time was over, she nodded.

‘I wouldn’t have flown all this way if I didn’t feel I could be an asset to your company.’

‘You haven’t listed any formal training apart from a first aid certificate, though Callum was suitably impressed with you at the screening interview.’

He picked up her résumé from the top of his in-tray and flipped through it. ‘Impressed enough to get you this far, anyway.’

She blushed, incriminating heat creeping up her neck and into her face. How could she list any formal training if she didn’t have any? Pity attending theatre and nightclub opening nights, colour co-ordinating the latest haute couture and shopping for a living couldn’t be classed as essential job skills.

‘As you can see, one of my career objectives is to become a biologist. This job would be perfect, giving me on-the-job experience and further credits when I apply to enter university as a mature student.’

She sucked in a deep breath, silently praying he bought her spiel. While all of it was true—her dream to be a biologist, her need for on-the-job training, her intention to enrol at uni—all the enthusiasm in the world didn’t stack up too well against a lack of formal skills.

‘As far as qualifications go I believe life experience is more important than a piece of paper. I’ve always been a people person, and I’m confident I can handle leading tour groups competently.’

She didn’t add, If I can handle your weirdo interview I think anything Alaska tosses my way will be easy.

To her relief, he closed her résumé and tossed it on the desk.

‘Though the job sounds adventurous your main role is customer service. Is that going to be stimulating enough for you?’

The way he said ‘stimulating’ almost sounded X-rated. What was wrong with her? The sooner she got to Alaska, surrounded by all that ice, the better.

Suave Superman had undermined her confidence and lowered her defences quicker than she could rebuild them. And when the walls tumbled, her common sense usually got lost in a tidal wave of useless emotions, like trust and believing not every man was a lying, cheating hound.

Now her outrage at his strange interviewing techniques had fled, she needed to get out of here. For the longer he stared at her with those all-seeing, too-intense blue eyes, the more chance she’d fluff it and he’d realise exactly how ill-equipped and under-prepared she was to tackle a job of this magnitude.

‘I’m looking forward to everything about this job.’

The moment her life in Sydney had fallen apart, she’d made a decision.

She could’ve wallowed, gone berserk on retail therapy, maxing out Daddy’s Platinum in petty revenge. Instead, after a day’s private pity party holed up in her favourite day spa, she’d realised what she had to do.

Grow a spine. Cast off her rose-coloured glasses. And do what she should’ve done years earlier.

Follow her dream.

‘You’re aware we cater to a high-end market? Luxury tours all the way?’

She nodded, confident in that aspect of her job. She’d grown up in moneyed circles, had rubbed elbows with the world’s elite, so relating to them in this forum would be the least challenging aspect of her new job.

‘Callum gave me a full rundown on the company. I’m looking forward to the challenge.’

His silence was disconcerting, his gaze too inquiring, too sceptical, too potent.

Keeping her voice crisp and businesslike, she forced a smile. ‘Thanks for the opportunity. I won’t let you down.’

She stood and offered her hand. As his fingers curled around hers the shock of physical contact shot up her arm and zapped her in places she’d deliberately ignored since learning the truth about Julian.