Christmas with the Boss (4 page)

Christmas Day

Despite the booming thunder when Jilly finally climbed into bed, she
slept soundly and dreamlessly. Mr Persistent Smythe-Phillips had finally given
up trying to persuade her to leave through the closed door.

“If you have any problems through the night—
any
—I’m in the
cottage up the road,” he said, finally accepting that she was here to stay.
“Don’t hesitate to call me.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not the litigious type,” she’d called through the
door. What a bizarre conversation to be having on Christmas Eve with her boss.
She still couldn’t believe he was here at this isolated beach.

She had seen a completely different side to him as he had done his
best to move her out of the cottage but she’d stood firm. This was
her
holiday and she wasn’t going anywhere unless he could come up with a better
reason than the cottage wasn’t suitable, according to him.

Dangerous! Pfft.
The only dangerous
things she’d come across so far were one Daddy Long Legs spider…and an
altogether too sexy boss.

She shook her head at Dominic being here in this small town. Was it
a coincidence? He would have been the last person she’d ever expect to run into
in a small beachside village like this.
If she’d known the cottage
belonged to his family, she wouldn’t have rented it. But she had and she was
here to stay.
Sitting up, Jilly stretched her arms high and
looked around. Sunlight was pouring in through the lacy, white nylon curtains
at the bedroom window. The storm had died out as she’d drifted off to sleep,
snug in the soft bed. The timber walls were painted a soft yellow and the
brightness of the room buoyed her mood.

She slid her legs over the side of the bed onto the bare
slatted-timber floor. The worn boards were smooth beneath her bare feet as she
headed outside to have a wash. A light breakfast, slip into her bikini and
sarong, and then hit the beach. A relaxing day of reading and chilling out
beckoned her.

Time to face her grief and move on. That’s what Dad would have
wanted her to do. He would have been pleased to know that she’d chosen to spend
Christmas here; he could never understand her trips to Bali, Vanuatu and other
overseas tropical destinations.

‘Look in your own backyard, sweetheart. Our beaches are the best in
the world.’

Doing what she knew Dad would have approved of, eased her grief a
little. She focused on the happy memories of him teaching her to surf at
Narrabeen in the days before life got too hectic to enjoy. When Mum had been
alive and they had been a family.

Tears threatened as she headed for the outside loo. She’d let
herself have a good cry one night, and then move on. It was extra tough this
year because it was Christmas and she had no family left.

After she’d washed, Jilly stood at the lounge window and had a quick
snack of fruit and another full cream strawberry milk—
sorry hips
—she’d
go for a long walk later. The sea air had kicked in and she was hungrier than
usual. If she stood on her tiptoes, she could just catch a glimpse of the deep
blue water through the she-oaks fringing the sand across the road. Last night’s
storm had washed everything clean; she pushed the window up and drew in a deep
breath of salt-laden air. Peace stole over her and Jilly couldn’t help the big
grin that crossed her face.

Eight whole days of solitude and bliss ahead—no frantic trading and
no emails that must be acted upon immediately.

She put her dishes in the pink porcelain kitchen sink. But although
tired and dated, everything in the place was in good condition and clean. She
shook her head remembering Dominic’s agitation last night. He was worrying
about nothing; the cottage was old, but fine. She smiled; it
was
retro
in an original sort of way. He could sort out the rental issue with his family;
it wasn’t her problem.

As she pulled up the bedcovers, something slid from the end of the
bed and Jilly bent to pick it up.
She held the unfamiliar plastic bag in her hand and frowned as she
turned it over in her hands. She was sure it hadn’t been on the bed last night.
She opened the bag, and peered into it and her frown deepened. The shorts,
T-shirt and towel, and undies which she’d assumed had blown off the verandah
last night were folded neatly inside.

What the…

 After Dominic had left, she had gone outside with her torch and
searched around the long grass and beneath the low verandah but there’d been no
sign of her clothes. How the hell did they get into a bag
and
onto her
bed through the night? She put the bag aside and folded her arms, her temper
building.

What the hell was he playing at? How
dare
he come into the
cottage while I was sleeping?
The cottage belonged to
his family; he must have another key.

Well, she’d be paying Mr Smythe-Phillips a visit and telling him to
stay away from her. While she was on vacation she didn’t have to kowtow to his
imperious demands.

##

Jilly detoured via the cottage up the road on her way to the beach.
Slipping her beach bag over her shoulder, she passed Dominic’s silver Audi. It
was parked in a small lean-to on the side of the cottage. She climbed the
stairs identical to the ones at her cottage, took a deep breath and pounded on
the front door. The cottage was the same design as the one she was staying in.
Same colour paint peeling from the exterior weatherboards and a small bathroom
on the far end of the verandah. Her legs were trembling as she practised her
prepared speech. She cleared her throat.

 
Stay right away from the cottage and from me.
The shakiness
in her legs, and the funny curling feeling in the pit of her stomach had
nothing to do with the anticipation of seeing him again. 
No way.

Jilly dug deep to bring back the anger that had coursed through her
when she had realised that he had been in her bedroom while she was sleeping.

Ergh.
Forget the anticipation that was
skittering through her.
It was almost creepy;
Dominic had certainly conned them at the bank with his gentle and polite
manner.

All was silent inside the house, and she pounded on the door again.
Perversely, she hoped he was sleeping and she pounded harder, hoping she’d wake
him up. But after a third go of trying to raise the dead with her curled fist
on the timber door, all remained silent. Jilly stood there for a moment, biting
her lip, before she shrugged and turned away to walk to the beach.

He’d keep till later.

She drew in a gasp of delight as she stepped through the row of
she-oaks fringing the sand. Sapphire blue water filled her vision for as far as
she could see and the morning sun sparkled on the water. Snowy-white
cumulo-nimbus clouds sat low above the far horizon in the distance, the same
colour as the foam on the breaking waves that rolled into the beach. The long,
lazy swells rolling in across the Pacific steepened and broke into gentle waves
as the ocean floor bottomed out, before they pushed up the white sandy shore.

Dad was right. This was one of the most beautiful beaches she’d ever
seen. And it was almost deserted.

Far away in the distance, a couple walked ahead of a dog frolicking
in the shallows. The rest of the beach was clear, with not another soul in
sight. Jilly scanned the sand looking for a spot to settle in for the morning.
She’d lathered herself in sunscreen after she’d slipped into her white bikini
and had a wide-brimmed hat to protect her face. Her Kindle was charged and
she’d packed two bottles of cold water in her beach bag. She spread her towel
on the sand and glanced up as a movement in the water caught her eye. A lone
surfer was surfing the point a little to the north. Jilly straightened and put
her hand to her eyes with an envious sigh. Rising gracefully to his feet he
turned when his board picked up the front of the wave. He glided effortlessly
through the translucent water, so clear she could see the back of the board as
he gained speed down the face of the wave. She held her breath as the wave
curled over him and he disappeared into the tube for a few seconds before
shooting out triumphantly from the right hand break.

Clapping her hands, Jilly smiled as he turned and paddled back to
catch the next wave. It had been a long time since Dad had taught her to surf;
she’d spent a lot of time on a board at Narrabeen when she was in her teens.
She had never forgotten the power of pushing her board across and down the
face of the wave at the same time; the adrenaline rush of the speed combined
with the thrill of the movement. Being at one with nature—feeling the air,
hearing the whoosh and suck of the wave as water sprayed around you, there was
nothing like it.

Lately life had passed her by and she’d been focused on work and
Dad’s health, and she’d taken little time for herself.

 A good New Year’s resolution.
Jilly time 2016!

By the time the surfer caught the next wave she’d settled on her
towel and pushed the sand into a mound behind her back to lean on as she read.
She narrowed her eyes as the wave pushed him closer to the section of the beach
where she was sitting. With a groan, she looked away and picked up her Kindle;
she should have known it was Dominic.

But as much as she tried to focus on her book, she couldn’t stop
looking up and watching as he caught wave after wave in a show of effortless
manoeuvres. Finally she gave up and laced her fingers behind the back of her
head and gave in to sheer admiration. Who would ever have known that the staid
boss of the SAB could carve up a wave like that? He was an absolute pro, as
good as any she’d watched. A couple of times, Jilly caught her breath as his
board teetered on the edge of the wave before he turned and sliced across the
face of it. Finally, he caught a wave and paddled to the shore.

She pulled her hat low over her face, quickly picked up her Kindle
and rolled over onto her stomach as he walked up the beach. Hopefully he
wouldn’t notice her on the way back.

Five minutes later, cold water splashed onto the backs of her legs;
her hope had been futile. She rolled over and leaned back on her elbows,
squinting up into the bright sunshine.

“Morning, Jilly.” Dominic rested his board on the sand and Jilly
looked away as he squatted beside her, that golden-tanned chest way too close
for her comfort.

“Good morning.” She looked away from that magnificent expanse of
bare skin, pleased that her sunglasses hid her expression. She pointed to the
surf as the next wave crashed onto the beach.

 “Pretty impressive surfing.”

“You sound surprised.” Dominic tipped his head to the side,
obviously to clear the water from his ears. Jilly looked up at him as water
droplets flew from his wet curls. His eyelashes were salt-encrusted and his
blue eyes were alight with the smile that crossed his face as he stared back at
her. His face was tanned, contrasting with the white zinc cream smeared on his
nose. He could have passed for an eighteen-year-old; his grin was cheeky and he
looked relaxed and happy.

“I am. It’s the last thing I expected to see you doing,” she said
honestly trying to keep her eyes from his muscled chest. “I’m used to you
sitting at a desk in a suit firing orders at me.” She flicked a hand towards
his board. “Doesn’t suit the corporate image I had.” Although that image
had
shimmied away last night when she’d seen him in his board shorts at the service
station.

“You should try it sometime. Nothing like it.” He stared out at the
sea. “I grew up here and the surf was my life before I left for uni.”

Surprise ran through Jilly. She’d always thought he’s come from the
north shore of Sydney. Silver spoon and all that.

“I know. I love it too.” Jilly couldn’t help smiling back. “I surfed
at Narrabeen when I was at high school.”

Dominic grinned at her and her heart did a little flip flop in her
chest. She put her hand to her mouth pretending to yawn, forgetting all of her
previous thoughts of his strange behaviour. The top of his wetsuit had been
pulled down and she stared at the glistening water drops on his chest. Despite
the bright sun, she could see the frown that suddenly marred his high forehead.

 “Did you sleep well?” His tone was probing and his words jerked her
out of that silly adolescent mooning.

“I did.
Unfortunately
.” She killed the smile as it all came
flooding back and stared. “And apparently I slept a little too deeply.”

“Why?” His voice was cautious. “What do you mean by that?”

“Look, I’ve calmed down a bit now.”
How to put this politely but
make her point very clear?
“I went to your cottage to see you on the way
here and I was pretty angry.”

“Because?”

“Because I don’t appreciate you just letting yourself into my
cottage whenever you feel like it. I don’t care if the place belongs to your
family. If it happens again, I’ll—”

“Whoa. Just wait one minute. You think I was there while you were
asleep? That’s sick. No way did I—or would I ever do that.”