Christmas with the Boss (3 page)

Jilly had no intention of stepping out of this shower until she had
a towel around her and her clothes back from wherever they were.

“Jilly?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“What the hell are you doing in there?” The sexy voice had taken on
a dangerous edge. It appeared he was just as unimpressed to find her here, as
she was to hear him outside the shower. “I’m taking a shower.

“Why are you here? Did you follow me?”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

If he wanted to play nasty, she could be cranky too. She wasn’t at
work and she didn’t have to put up with his stiff manner like she did most days
at work. A tight smile with a muttered good morning was as social and pleasant
as he got in the office. Even if he looked sexy when he smiled, he made no
friendly overtures to anyone. Hence the Mr Iceberg tag.

But she was at a disadvantage.

At least he had clothes on.
Well, some
clothes anyway. Her nipples tightened as that golden skin flashed across her
mind again.

“Well, what
are
you doing here?’

“
I told you. I
was
taking a
shower.” Her voice was as cool as her skin which was now covered with goose
bumps. Strange, because the evening was hot and muggy. A cool breeze rushed
though the shower and the back of Jilly’s neck prickled. A chuckle sounded from
the other side of the shower door.

“What’s so funny?” Indignation filled her at the thought of Dominic
Smythe-Phillips standing outside laughing at her predicament.

Wait a minute.
Her eyes narrowed. The
only way he would know of her predicament would be if he’d moved her clothes
and towel himself.

Another voice came from the other end of the verandah and Jilly
strained to hear. There was someone with him. A shiver of fear snaked up her
spine.

Don’t be stupid, it’s only him—the storm was making her skittish.

“Dominic? Look I need some help here.” But all she heard was that
same quiet chuckle a little closer this time.

“Dominic!” Her voice was shrill as she pushed away the fear that was
settling in her chest. There was nothing to be afraid of. This was Dominic
Smythe-Phillips, second-in-charge of the largest trading bank in Sydney and a
well respected business man… and her boss. She sat outside his office and spoke
to him every day. Okay, so she didn’t know much about him—never a personal
conversation—but his quietly spoken demeanour and his rare, albeit sexy, smile
told her he was a decent guy. Although he was cold and distant, he was always
polite, never lost his temper and had never seemed the sort to play a practical
joke.

Like taking my clothes.
Another shiver
ran down her back and she leaned against the shower wall.

“If you’re here, go away. Okay?” Dominic’s whisper was quiet and the
floorboards on the verandah creaked again.

If
you’re here? Who else was there?

Jilly looked around the small shower cubicle for something to cover
up with but there was nothing there apart from the soap and shampoo bottle.

That would be a great look, she thought. Charge out with a cake of
soap over one boob and a bottle of shampoo over the other.
Ta da! Hello
Dominic!

 
A door slammed somewhere outside.

“Just stop it!” His voice was angry now.

“Stop what?” Jilly called out. “Look , I…er…need a hand in here.”
Oh
fuck it.
“I…I don’t mean a hand, I mean I need some help.”

“I didn’t say that.” By the close sound of his voice Dominic was
outside the shower now.

“Say what?” It was like some sort of bizarre movie, nothing was
making sense, least of all this conversation. “Look, Dominic…I mean, Mr
Smythe-Phillips”—keep it formal or as formal as she could, naked and no clothes
within reach—“I don’t know what you’re playing at but I would be very grateful
if you would pass my clothes in.”

And then go away.

“What clothes?”

Jilly gritted her teeth. “The clothes and towel you took from
outside the shower.”

This time she could hear the amusement in his voice. “So you’re in
there in your er...shall I say… in your natural glory?” So he could crack a
joke but she was decidedly unimpressed.

“I am in here waiting for you to return my towel and clothes.” Jilly
folded her arms across her chest. Her skin was drying rapidly in the cool
breeze blowing through the half open slats of the louvre window. She was not
finding this situation the slightest bit amusing, as her boss seemed to be finding
it.

“I’m sorry. I don’t have them.” Jilly couldn’t figure out the tone
of his voice. There was another hurried whisper. “I didn’t take them.’

“Who else is out there?” She folded her arms.

“No one.”

Bullshit.
Another nervous skitter ran up
her back. “Well, if you didn’t take them can you please find them? A pair of
shorts and a T-shirt, and a pink towel.” The thought of him finding her undies
blowing about the lawn brought heat to her cheeks.

“They must have blown away. There’s a nasty storm brewing. I’ll go
and look down in the yard.”

Receding footsteps, soft whispers and then silence. There
was
someone else there with him.

When she’d looked at the Audi at the service station, Jilly hadn’t
noticed anyone else with him. But then, she admitted to herself, she’d been too
busy perving on his butt to take much notice of anything else. She bit back a
groan and reached up to squeeze some of the water from her hair while she
waited.

There was no sign of clothes or a towel on the verandah, or in the
long grass at the back of the house. Not that Dominic expected to find them
there. He’d felt like an idiot trying to talk to someone who he really didn’t
believe was there, but Aunty Vi always said… Shit. Forget about that. He had
thought he’d heard a laugh….and seen…something. Maybe it was just the wind and
the moonlight.

 His suspicions as to where the clothes had gone were crazy, so
he wouldn’t be sharing them with Jilly Henderson. She’d think he was a total
fruit cake if he shared that with her. He also wanted to know why the hell she
was in Derro’s cottage and how long she thought she was staying there. But the
way things were shaping up, he suspected she’d be out of there at daylight. Or
at least Dominic hoped she would; but that created another problem. The town
was always booked out from Christmas to mid-January so there’s be no
accommodation left.

 How the hell had she ended up at the cottage? At the service
station, he’d assumed she’d be heading to Byron Bay, or even the Gold Coast.
This town was for retirees and surfers; nothing sophisticated to do here. And
that was how he’d always found her. Sophisticated and distant. The casually
dressed Miss Henderson in the service station had rocked him.

Dominic came back up the steps and looked around. The breeze had
dropped and the air was still. The chill that had pervaded the verandah a
moment ago had gone.

Good.

“Look, I’m sorry I can’t find them. The wind must have carried them
further than I can see. I can get a torch and go looking further.”

“No, thank you. Just go.”

“Do you want me to go inside and get you another towel?” He stood
outside the door.

“No.” The retort was immediate and definite.

“So…
a nudie run
?
” The image that flashed though his
mind made him want to hang around for the show.

“No!”

 Dominic bit back a grin; he wondered what she intended doing.  A
nudie run would be worth seeing. Her staid black corporate suit had well
disguised the lush curves the brief shorts and clinging T-shirt had
accentuated. The tight pulled-back chignon had given no hint to the gorgeous
red curls that cascaded down Ms Henderson’s back to that delicious rounded
butt.

He folded his arms and leaned back on the rail. “So how can I help?”

“Go away and I’ll go inside after you’ve gone.”

“No, I want to talk to you.”

“Well, talk away.”

 His lips tilted. This little spitfire was very different to
his quiet executive assistant from the office. A southward rush of blood had
one part of him very interested.

“How about I go around to the other end of the verandah, and when you’re
dressed you can come out and we can talk?”

“How will I know you’ve gone?” Her voice was wary.

“Because I’m a gentleman and I’m going now. I’ll keep my back
turned.” He pushed away from the railing regretfully. “Promise.”

“All right then. No peeking.”

“No peeking.” Sometimes being a man of his word had its
disadvantages, but he wasn’t a voyeur. Dominic walked to the end of the
verandah and looked across the road to the beach, keeping his back to the small
outside bathroom.

The north-easterly wind had picked up and, as dark as it was, he
could still see the white caps whipped up out to sea as the lightning flashed.
The wind whistled through the trees lining the edge of the road and the first
spits of rain landed at the edge of the verandah. He looked up; the clouds were
low and scudding fast. If he stayed much longer, he was in for a soaking on the
way home.

A door banged behind him and he turned around slowly.

He couldn’t help the grin as he met the horrified gaze of one very
naked woman. One very beautiful naked woman. Jilly was tugging on the handle of
the back door at the other end of the verandah.

Her wide-eyed stare met his as she dropped her hands to cover
herself.

“Turn around,” she squealed.

Being the gentleman he was—
damn it
—Dominic let the appreciative
smile slide as he swung his gaze away.

“The door slammed shut in front of me just as I was about to run
in.” Indignation seemed to have overcome her embarrassment. Her tone made it
sounds as though she was holding him responsible.

From the brief glimpse of long, slender limbs and the verification
that she was indeed a natural redhead, Dominic wanted to reassure Jilly she
certainly had nothing to be embarrassed about. But embarrassment didn’t seem to
be on the top of her list. Without looking, he could feel the glare she was
directing to him. He bit back a smile. Miss Henderson was becoming more
interesting by the minute.

“Who’s here with you?” Her voice was cross now. “Are they inside the
cottage?”

“Nobody. I’m here by myself.”

“Bullshit.” The prim and proper executive assistant
had
long
gone. “I heard you talking to someone.”

“Uh uh, must have been the wind. There’s a fair storm brewing.
Look”— Dominic went to turn around and remembered just in time—“you scurry back
into the shower, I’ll unlock the door, cover my eyes and then you can get
inside.”

“All right,” she said slowly.

“And then we’ll talk about
why
you’re here.”

Five minutes later, things had gone according to his plan. Dominic
had managed to get the door open; it hadn’t been locked, just jammed shut. He’d
dutifully turned his back again while Jilly scurried past. Now she stood at the
door dressed in a pair of shorts and a singlet top, her wet curls plastered to
the sides of her face. Dominic’s fingers itched to reach out and lift the wet strands
from her skin, but he didn’t think she would appreciate it. Ushering him
inside, she pointed to one of the chairs at the old kitchen table—Dominic
grinned, same wooden ones that had been there when he was a kid.

“Now explain.”
Her voice was short and her cheeks were
flushed. “Did you follow me here?”

He ignored the chair and shook his head. “Where from, Sydney?”

She let out an exasperated sigh. “No, the service station.”

“Why would I do that?” Leaning instead against the old bench top, he
folded his arms, watching with fascination as a single droplet of water landed
on her shoulder and slowly ran down towards the neckline of her tight T-shirt.
“You’re the one with the explaining to do, not me. What are
you
doing
here?”

“What am I doing here?” Her voice rose with each word. “I’m staying
here for my Christmas break.”

“No, you’re not.”

“And why would that be, Mr Smythe-Phillips?” Her voice was laced
with saccharine-sweetness and Dominic bit back a smile. If it hadn’t been for
the fact that she couldn’t stay here, he would have quite enjoyed spending a
few days getting to know this very different Miss Henderson. This little
red-headed kitten was showing her sharp claws and he waited for the reaction
which was sure to come when he told her she definitely
wasn’t
staying
here. He shrugged, putting on a casual air.

“It’s my family’s cottage and we don’t rent it out. You’re
squatting.”

“Squatting!”

“Yep, squatting. How did you get in?”

“With the key!”

“You’re still squatting. You’ll have to go.”

“Be that as it may”—she turned around and picked up a scrunched
piece of paper from the table—“this says that I can rent it…and I am. I’m not
going anywhere. I don’t care who owns it. I have a
receipt
.”

Dominic folded his arms and leaned against the wall ignoring the
piece of paper she held out to him.

“No,” he said.

Jilly took a step closer to Dominic and eyeballed him. “Yes,” she
said.

Their eyes met and held; he ignored the little jolt that raced
though him as he stared at the golden flecks in her green eyes. They tipped at
the corners and were beautiful; he’d never noticed them behind the square, dark
spectacles she wore in the office.

“You can’t.”

“I can.”

Mexican standoff. Okay, how could he handle this without looking
like a complete fool? Dominic lifted his head as a fleeting shimmer of light
flickered briefly. He stared at the wall with a frown and waited for a noise
or…or something.
He
wasn’t used to this yet, so how the hell could he
explain it to a stranger?

He shook his head with a frown. It must have been the lightning. If
he wasn’t careful, he’d end up as crazy as Derro’s sister. Thinking quickly, he
gathered together the most persuasive argument he could come up with.

“Look, Jilly. Is it okay if I call you that?” He pulled out the best
grin he could. “I’m more used to calling you Miss Henderson.”

She nodded, hands on hips, chin thrust forward. “You may, Mr
Smythe-Phillips.” Despite her belligerent stance, the nod was cool and regal.

So it was like that was it? She was a tough player in the bank, and
it looked like she was going to be as tough to deal with personally.

 “I’m really sorry, but you can’t stay here. There’s been a mistake.
This place has been in my family for years and it’s in no fit state to be let
out. Just take a look around.” Dominic ran his hand through his salt-encrusted
hair. He’d slipped into town for beer and petrol after he’d been surfing and
probably wasn’t dressed in a way that would assist his position here as a sort
of landlord. “You could get hurt and you could sue us. I don’t know how you
were able to rent it.”

 “It was in my staff email. ‘Retro holiday cottage on north
coast, available to SBA staff only.’ So I checked it out online, talked to the
guy at the phone number given, paid in full by cheque and here I am.” She
narrowed her eyes as she held the receipt out to him. “To stay.”

“What guy? What was his name?” Dominic stared back at her. Her
cheeks were flushed.

“Derek somebody.”

Bloody hell.

Dominic shook his head slowly. “Look, I don’t know how it’s happened
but there’s been a mistake. There is no Derek. You can’t stay here. The place
is falling down. Look around you. It’s in no fit state for guests.”

 God knew what could happen here during the night. All he knew was,
he wouldn’t sleep here, and he wasn’t about to let a woman—albeit a very
attractive woman—sleep here alone. “I’ll find you a motel room somewhere.”

“No.”

“I’ll pay for it.”

“No.”

Dominic should have known the tenacity that had got Jilly Henderson
to the position of executive assistant before she was thirty would make her dig
her heels in. Yes, he knew how old she was; despite the staff thinking he sat
up in some ivory tower, he knew everything there was to know about his
executive team. She’d graduated with her MBA a couple of years ago, had
recently celebrated her twenty-eighth birthday and lived alone on the lower
north shore, not too far from his apartment. As far as he knew she was single;
her personal life never intruded on her work at the office and she rarely
attended office social functions. His mind ticked over as she stared back at
him.

Jilly’s shoulders straightened. She walked across to the door and
held it open. “Look, Dominic. Is it okay if I call you that?” She parroted his
words as she pulled the door open. This time it opened smoothly beneath her
hands without the sign of a creak. He stepped through as she ushered him
outside with a flick of her hand.

“I’m not a guest, I’m a paying tenant. I don’t care about the state
of the cottage and don’t worry, I won’t sue you. I’ve had a long drive, I’m
tired and I want to go to bed.” She stepped back and stared at him, obviously
waiting for him to leave. “I have no idea why you are here too. However I do
appreciate your concern. Thank you and good night.”

Dominic stood on the dark verandah and opened his mouth to speak.

“I’ll see you in January,” Jilly said.

The door closed in his face.