Her Old-Fashioned Boss (7 page)

The temptation just to taste before spitting it out often haunted her.

“Nothing, thanks. I have a salad.”

He frowned. “You always have a salad. You’d better not be dieting.” They’d had this conversation a few times.

“Sam, I’m fine,” she said. This is what she always ate. She had to keep her weight down.

Sam shook his head and sighed. “You know, if you were ours, you’d never get away with this sort of behavior.”

Ava gaped after him as he left. Had he meant that? No, he couldn’t have. They were gay.

Theirs.

Picking up the cup of tea to blow on the hot liquid, she pondered that. Did that sort of thing happen in real life? Threesomes? She’d certainly read stories and fantasized about what it might be like to have two men love her, take care of her, cherish her.

She shivered at the thought. Sam, who heated her blood, who made her laugh, who took care of her. And Roarke, dark, delicious Roarke. Mysterious. Slightly scary. And yet she’d never felt as safe as she did in his presence.

“Ava,” Roarke barked.

She jumped; shocked out of her thoughts as his loud voice came through the open doorway. Hot tea shot out of the cup, landing on her lap, searing through her black pants to burn the sensitive skin beneath.

Unable to stop the whimper of pain, Ava quickly stood and reached across to grab some tissues. She didn’t want Roarke knowing. Why, she had no idea. But she needed to appear strong and together in front of him, even when she quivered on the inside.

“Ava?” Roarke called out, sounding concerned. So he should, she usually raced in when he called. She’d worked hard to be the best personal assistant he could need.

“Coming,” she called back. Looking down at her pants, she felt grateful they were black. Of course, most of her wardrobe was. Grabbing a pen and paper she gingerly walked into Roarke’s office and hoped like hell he didn’t notice the huge wet patch on her trousers.

Yeah, she might as well have wished for money-growing trees.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as soon as he saw her. “Are you in pain?” His eyes, sharp as an eagle, ran over her. “What’s on your pants?”

Standing, he moved swiftly around the desk.

“I’m fine,” she protested, holding her hand out. “It’s just a bit of tea, it will dry out soon. Now, what did you need?” She tried to sound professional, she really did. But it was supremely difficult when tears were welling in her eyes from pain burning a tattoo on her legs.

“You spilt hot tea on your lap and you want to work?” he asked incredulously. “Like hell. Get those pants off now.”

“W-what?” she stuttered in shock. Sure, she’d wanted to hear him utter those words, had dreamed about it most nights. But not like this.

Not waiting for her agreement, Roarke knelt and started to undo her pants.

“Roarke, stop,” she cried as he tugged her pants down, leaving them pooled at her feet. She was left standing in a white shirt and blue, lacy panties. She tried to take a step back, away from him but he grabbed her wrist.

“Stay still,” he growled.

“This isn’t exactly appropriate,” she cried. “You’re my employer!”

In her dreams, she’d never imagined that the first time he stripped her would be like this.

Hell, probably first and last time.

“Calm down, Ava, or I’ll give you something to really take umbrage over.”

What the hell did that mean?

Standing, he lifted her into his arms. Her pants dangled off her ankles, caught by her shoes.

“Roarke, what are you doing?” she cried.

“Taking care of you.”

“I can take care of myself.” She attempted to push at his arms. This was more than a little humiliating.

He glanced down at her incredulously as he kept walking. “Yeah, because that’s what you were going to do. Instead of stopping to take care of your burn, you were going to keep working,” he accused, walking as he talked. But he didn’t move towards the kitchen or small bathroom on the first floor. Instead he headed up the stairs to the third floor, a place she’d never been.

“This is a punishable offense, by the way. I expect you to tell Sam or I immediately if you hurt yourself.”

She snorted. “Like you’ll do anything about it.” He’d threatened to punish her a few times and never followed through. She should be relieved.

Instead, she felt kind of curious.

“Don’t be so sure, sweetheart,” he told her in a deep voice. Her breath caught in her throat at the words and she swallowed heavily at the promise in his voice. That couldn’t be right, though, could it? She was his employee for God’s sake. If he did anything she could have him done for sexual harassment.

Not that she would, because it definitely
would not
be harassment.

No, she’d welcome any advance from him with open arms.

Sam, too.

She didn’t want to come between them. Hell, no, what they had was beautiful and strong. She’d observed their relationship, seen the way Roarke looked at Sam like the sun rose and shone on him. Seen how Sam worshipped the ground Roarke walked on.

No, she didn’t want to choose. She wanted them both. Together. At the same time.

She shivered at the images that thought produced.

“You okay?” Roarke glanced down at her with concern as he sat her on the edge of the giant bath tub. Ava glanced around, realizing that they must be in his and Sam’s private bathroom. “Are you cold? I’ll get you something warm to put on in a second.”

Grabbing the detachable head on the bath, he turned the tap on cold and started running it over her burning thighs.

Instant relief.

“Hold this, sweetheart. I’ll go find you a sweater.”

“No, wait, I’m...fine,” she trailed off, realizing he wasn’t listening to a word.

Ava took the chance to take a deep breath and try to steady her nerves.

Damn, I’m losing it. I have to do better than this.

She knew they didn’t mean anything by their flirting, with the way they took care of her. That was just the kind of men they were. Men who protected those who were weaker than themselves. They opened doors, carried bags, kept watch over those smaller than them.

“Here you go.” Roarke returned with a large hoodie. “This is one of Sam’s.” He handed her the sweater while grabbing the hose back from her.

“I’m fine.”

Roarke simply looked at her. Sighing, she pulled it over her head, admitting to herself that it did make her feel better. Sam’s scent drifted around her, clean and sharp.

“My legs feel fine now, I think you can stop drowning them,” she told Roarke jokingly.

Instead of smiling, he glanced down at her thighs. “Few more minutes. You have to be careful with burns. I should never have yelled out at you like that. The hot water could have splashed up into your face or anything.”

Self-recrimination filled his words and she instantly felt the need to soothe him.

“Roarke, I’m fine. It’s just a bit of hot water, I’ve had much worse. And it was not your fault. I shouldn’t have been drinking tea at my desk. I’ve had enough water now,” she said reaching over to turn it off. Roarke grabbed her hand, stilling her. She shied back and he frowned.

“Are you scared of me?” he asked in a low voice.

She shook her head then stilled, remembering how she’d promised honesty and nodded slightly.

He reached over slowly and pushed some hair behind her ear. “I’d never hurt you, honey. Not for the world.”

Smiling slightly, she looked into his deep blue eyes—his rich, mouth-watering eyes—and saw how sincere he was.

“I know we’ve only known each other a short time, but I consider you part of the family. And I protect what’s mine.”

He leaned in, as though to kiss her, when Sam stepped into the bathroom, staring at them quizzically. His brows rose, no doubt from her state of semi-dress.

“What’s wrong? Is Ava hurt?” he asked anxiously.

“She burned her thighs,” Roarke said, standing so abruptly that she swayed slightly, missing his steadying presence. “Take care of her for me.”

Stepping towards the door, he stopped and turned back, his gaze so cold she shivered. What had happened to the caring man who’d been about to kiss her?

“Look after her, Sam. Ava, I don’t expect to see you again today.”

Then he left. Tears welled in her eyes and she immediately reached over and turned off the tap.

“Sam, my pants are wet do you think you have something I could wear home?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Oh, baby, he didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” Sam told her soothingly, placing his arm over her shoulders. But Ava’s emotions were in a whirlwind.

“It’s not that, it doesn’t matter. Please, I just want to go home.” She needed to think about everything. About the fact that she’d came close to kissing her boss. A boss whose life-partner was currently trying to cuddle her close.

“Please, Sam,” she said, her voice breaking.

“Okay, sweet. Let me just have a look at your legs. I’m going to put some burn cream on them to take out the sting, but you shouldn’t use it all the time, give them a chance to breathe.”

“I think I can take care of a couple of small burns, Sam,” she snapped at him.

He reeled back as though she’d hit him, his face closing down. “Well, all right then, let me just get the cream.”

Guilt, sharp and nasty stabbed her in the gut. She grabbed his hand as he stood.

“Sam, I’m sorry, I’m just not feeling myself. Please forgive me.” She gazed up at him, knowing she would burst into tears if he remained mad at her.

His face softened and he nodded, patting her hand. “It’s okay, sweet. Let me get some cream to take that sting out then I’ll see if I can find you something to wear. You just stay there.”

Ava nodded, not really certain that she could move anyway.

*****

Sam saw Ava to the car, worried about her pale appearance and sad eyes. What the hell had Roarke done to her? The burns on her legs were mild, but he knew Roarke would be beating himself up for her pain.

But the pain of the burns couldn’t be attributed to the misery he saw in her eyes. As soon as Max took off down the drive, he raced back inside to find Roarke.

He entered the gym. Roarke was pounding on the boxing bag, sweat already dripping down his body. He’d stripped off to just a pair of small shorts, but for once Sam’s attention wasn’t caught by his fantastic body. Right now he was on a mission.

To find out what the hell was going on.

He moved over to stand in front of Roarke, not about to be ignored.

“What was that all about?” he asked mildly, holding the bag, so Roarke could pound away on it.

“Nothing,” Roarke replied shortly.

Sam sighed. “Don’t do this.”

“Do what?” Roarke asked, his gaze set on the bag.

“Don’t shut up like this. You really hurt her. Why’d you act so cold to her and walk out like that?”

“None of your business.”

“It is my business.” Sam swung the bag away, glaring at Roarke who had to pull back his punch.

“Dammit, don’t do that. I could have hit you.”

“Then hit me! Just don’t close down on me, I can’t stand that.”

Roarke stood, panting then turned away with a loud yell. “Fuck!” he cried out, making Sam flinch. When he turned back, his misery was clear to see. “I really fucked up, didn’t I? Was she really upset?”

Sam nodded. “What happened?”

“I nearly kissed her, right before you came into the room.”

“Shit,” Sam said.

Roarke nodded. “She’s probably completely confused now. She’ll think that I nearly cheated on you, that she nearly betrayed your friendship. I just, I wasn’t thinking, I wanted to touch her, kiss her and then you came in and all those emotions started to boil over, I had to get away from her before I pulled her into our bed and made love to her and she’s not ready for that.”

Sam shook his head.
No, she wasn’t.

“I’ll be lucky if she comes back tomorrow,” Roarke said with a sigh, pulling off his gloves. He moved over to sit on the weights bench. Sam walked over and opened the small fridge, pulling out a bottle of water. He handed it to Roarke who took it with a small smile.

“I don’t deserve you, you know,” he said almost sadly. Sam kneeled at his feet and rested his head on Roarke’s knees. No matter how annoyed he might be at Roarke, he loved him. He was hurting at the moment, he needed Sam.

Roarke ran his hand through Sam’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

“I think you’re saying that to the wrong person,” Sam replied.

“I’m not.” Sam glanced up at him in surprise, but Roarke merely pressed his head down again. “I owe you both an apology. I should never have started something without you there, and for that I owe you an apology.”

Sam shook his head. “No, you don’t. I’m the one who pushed you into this, if it’s not what you want...”

Roarke smiled. “I think it’s fair to say that I want her. A lot. What I don’t want is to ruin what you and I have. You’re the most important person in my world, Sam.”

“Does that mean there’s no room for Ava?”

Sam held his breath, waiting for his answer. He wanted Ava. Sam had material things growing up, but after his mother’s death he’d had little in the way of affection and love. So what he had now, he held on to for dear life. There was no way he was going to let Roarke go. If Roarke couldn’t handle this then Sam would have to find a way to let Ava go.

Even if it broke his heart.

“No, it doesn’t. It just means that I need to take this slow for all our sakes, so nothing gets messed up.

Sam nodded. “If you don’t think you can handle this then we need to stop it now, because I could love her, easily, and while it would be hard to say goodbye to her now...”

“Soon it will become impossible. I know. And you’re right. I have to be sure. I need to think about this for a bit. It’s Friday now, we’ve got a couple of days. Just give me some time, hmm?”

Sam agreed, hoping that time was on their side.

Chapter Four

Ava curled up on the bed, disgusted with herself. As soon as she’d gotten home and changed, she’d rushed down to the bakery. Having chewed and spit out two brownies and a dozen cookies, she now felt more than a little ill.