The Boss and Her Billionaire (4 page)

“You’re not going to fire me, are you?”

“Not right now.”He was good. She was already smiling.

She liked the way his hands were still. He didn’t fidget. He was calm, considered, a grown up, and he was giving her his full attention. Michaela realized no one on the boat except Felicity had given her that common courtesy without being under orders.

“Okay then.” He paused, and she looked fixedly at the moon so he wouldn’t catch her gazing at his

profile. “We could have one of those special relationships. Think of me as your doctor. You know,

patient confidentiality and all that. Get it off your chest.”

Michaela almost snorted. “You’re not a doctor.”

“True. I could be your lawyer, then.”

“You’re not a lawyer, either.”

“How do you know? I could have studied law but done something else with my life.”

“Did you?”

Dylan seemed to catch himself. “No. I’m a dancer.”

“So there’s every chance you’ll go gossiping everything I say to everyone.”

That got him. His tone seemed stiffer when he replied. “I’m not a teenage girl. But you’re right, you have no reason to trust me. Except of course that you’re my boss and could fire me just because I looked at you funny.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” Even in the moonlight she could see he was smiling again. His eyes crinkled when he grinned. Nice.

“Good.” He paused. “So where were you before you got started in this business?”

“I was in the music industry.”

“Perfect. Step up and sideways, but not too far out of the box.”

“Thanks.” He got it, straight away. Michaela was impressed.

They chatted for a while, and Michaela was surprised at how easy she felt in his company. Like him, she was actually lounging in a lounge chair, relishing the evening air, simply gazing at the moon. When was the last time she’d done any of that? Dylan put her at ease like no one she’d met in…too long. Without meaning to, she told him about her career, moving on from the music business, landing her first job on a cruise ship, swiftly moving up the ranks until her boss had become ill and she had won the cruise

director position after only four years at sea. He nodded and made all the right noises, dropping in brief anecdotes about himself every now and then. Her shoulders relaxed, and she closed her eyes a moment.

It was good to be outside, to let her hair down.

“So what’s next?” he asked.

“I want it all,” she said with unusual candidness. “The career, money, family, everything. But for now it’s all about my career. I’m going to be off this boat and managing an international team in a year’s time, no matter what the captain thinks.”

“Good for you.” He paused. “So what did you do to the captain?”

Her eyes snapped open. The moon’s reflection quivered on the water. It was a beautiful sight. A

beautiful night. What the hell.

“I haven’t told anyone this. You have to swear it’s between us.”

“On my honor.”

“I slept with him.”

“I can see why he’s so riled,” he said dryly.

Michaela laughed. “Then I ended it.”

“Ah.”

“He was the one who was married, but apparently I should have known that and just made sure I was

discreet. Now he never misses a chance to rub my face in it, even though he lied through the whole

thing and then denied he ever led me on.”

“So today’s warning to leave it alone with the crew…”

“If someone had given me that warning, it might have been easier for me.”

Michaela shuddered at how close she’d come to gushing about Captain Atkinson at the interview for her current position. How was she supposed to have known he was married and that his wife worked for

Adventurer Cruises head office? Every time she saw his face now, she remembered the look he’d given

her in the interview—the silent, deadly I-never-said-I-loved-you look. Just in time she’d gotten it, seeing the wedding band that had miraculously reappeared on his finger. Just in time, she’d seen the way he

curled his body around the recruitment woman as he pulled out her chair and heard the way she called

him “darling”…

“And now he’s enjoying lording the affair over you every chance he gets?” Dylan’s low tone invited her to go on.

“It’s a constant battle. Whenever I bring up issues that female passengers might have or if I request anything he decides is only necessary because someone made the mistake of putting a woman in this

job, he rolls his eyes. It took me three months to get my request for a uniform that included a skirt past him and in to head office.”

“Short man syndrome,” Dylan said firmly.

“What? He’s not that short.”

“No, but it’s the same thing. He feels like you’ve taken his power away, so he’s going to make damn sure you know he’s in charge. My brother is a bit like that.”

A sense of business. This one was smarter than her usual intake, that was certain. “You sure you’re just a dancer?”

He hesitated before replying. “Of course. There’s politics everywhere.”

True. Michaela shook her head.

“Don’t let him wear you down. He’ll just think he’s won and make things even harder for you. You’re

clearly a smart woman. Give him enough rope to hang himself. You won’t have to lift a finger, and you’ll still win.”

“Just suck it up, you mean?”

“I didn’t say that. You don’t have to let him walk all over you. Just politely put him in his place, but not so he loses face.”

It wasn’t bad advice.

“Feel any better?”

Michaela smiled. She did. “You’re a good listener.” A wonderful listener. “Don’t go making the same

mistake I did.” She bit her lip and tried to be magnanimous. “And if one of those boys has already

claimed you, I don’t want to hear about it.”I’m not gay.”

Thank God it was dark, because she was fairly sure her jaw actually dropped. She recovered herself

enough to speak. “Of course, I wouldn’t ume…”

“It’s okay. I am a dancer, I know. No one in the dance team believes me, either.”

“I didn’t mean… I hope you don’t think… Well, thanks for listening to me rant on. I better go.” Michaela stood, almost hitting her leg again in her hurry and embarrassment.

Shit. Shit. Oh, shit.

Had she really just offended the guy who now knew her stupid secret? The guy who was a wonderful

listener, gave good advice and…and what? And made her feel like more of a woman than she had in a

long time.

“Welcome again, anyway,” she said.

Welcome again? What sort of lousy line was that?

Don’t make this more than it is.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Dylan said.

Breathe in, breathe out, you’re in control, you’re in charge. She recited her mantra.

“I should hope not. You promised you wouldn’t.” Michaela tried to convey authority with her tone, but it was a little hard after she’d just spilled her guts to him.

And blushed uncontrollably when you found out he wasn’t gay.

She thanked the gods again that it was dark.

“I never break a promise.”

“Good.”

Deep breath in, deep breath out, no need to go into a spin because he’s a wonderful listener, insanely hot, and apparently available.

“See you tomorrow, first thing.” Michaela threw the comment over her shoulder as she walked off with

as much dignity as she could muster. She’d just have to hope he was true to his word—and that, in the future, she could keep her reactions more under control.

“Stupid, stupid.”

If it hadn’t been sure to make her deputy suspicious, Michaela would have beaten her head on her desk the next morning. Spilling everything to a dancer she’d only just met? What an idiot.

I’m never drinking again,” she promised.

There was little time to wallow, though. This was a busy job. She hadn’t been laying it on thick for the new recruits for nothing.

“Coming to rehearsal, Michaela?”

George, the choreographer, burst into her office as if he was on stage. Despite her hangover and the

mortification of what she’d told Dylan the night before, Michaela couldn’t help smiling.

Buck up, girl.

Dylan had promised he wouldn’t say anything, and the captain couldn’t lord their tryst over her forever.

In fact, Dylan’s advice made as much sense in the light of day as it had in the moonlight. Taking this job had been her choice—her choice to try and prove herself in this sea of men. The captain was bound to

do something stupid enough to mess up his career all on his own. Time to get on with it and leave the captain to destroy himself.

George did a little dance with a spare chair, and Michaela laughed. He was a hard taskmaster, but he

produced wonderful results, giving the Pacific Empress a reputation as the best in the business.

“Sure,” Michaela said. “I’ll come see what the slave master has created.”

He took her hand and guided her around the edge of her desk, spreading kisses from her fingers to her elbow in exaggerated French style.

“Those poor boys and girls, are they exhausted yet?” she asked.

“No, but they soon will be,” he said triumphantly. “These twelve-day cruises are a bit of a killer—so many routines to learn with a show on every night. I almost feel sorry for the poor little babies. But I have a special treat this time. Did you arrange it for me? That Dylan is hardly a baby. And he’s lovely, so big and strong.”

Michaela straightened at the mention of Dylan’s name. “Only the best for you, George.”

“Thanks for trying, but you got it completely wrong. It’s such a shame.” George paused, waiting for her response, but when she said nothing, he clarified, “He’s straight, darling.”

Michaela ed her head and raised an eyebrow. George didn’t need to know she’d already found that out

for herself.

“I knew it as soon as I saw him. I can always tell. Straight as a fence post. But at least he’s nice about it.

The other two boys don’t believe him, but they’ll soon be put right. The girls are over the moon, of

course.” George sighed. “It’s all going to be in vain, though, you mark my words. This one is a man, and he won’t put up with the pantings of little boys and girls. He’ll need a woman.”

“Not on this ship,” Michaela said despite herself.

“I think you’re absolutely right, my dear. That one’s got a hard edge, despite his floppy touchable hair.

He’ll keep himself to himself, and I’ll be mopping up tears from everyone as they work out that he wants none of them.” He raised a hand to his forehead and winked at Michaela.

It was just foolish gossip, but nonetheless she felt a flutter in her heart.

…

“All right everyone, are we ready?”

George and Michaela were up front, viewing from the audience. This was the full dress rehearsal, and

George always tried not to interrupt the run if he could possibly help it. The dancers had been taught the routines onshore, but today was the first time that all the elements came together, including the dancers, the live music and singers, and the set.

“Okay then, bandmaster. Take us away,” George called and sat back in his seat.

The band started up, a soaring number with orchestral strings and a fabulous cello part played on the bandmaster’s keyboard. Her heart was swept up with the incredible music to a point somewhere close

to the center of the high-arched theater ceiling. Her head swayed, and she wanted nothing more than to be pulled up into someone’s arms and swung around the stage. Someone with a broad chest at the

perfect height for her to rest her head on. Someone just like Dylan Johns.

Stop it. You’re working.

The stage began to brighten, and in among the props Michaela discerned the smallest amount of

movement. “Oh,” she gasped. Two statues were actually people, painted white and now moving

through the set.

“You like?” George’s grin flashed brightly even in the dimmed light of the audience. “That Dylan makes a better statue than anything made of stone,” he whispered.

He was right. Dylan’s perfectly ripped stomach muscles could have been made of marble, and the set of his jaw under this lighting was heroic. He was simply pure man. Michaela’s eyes almost licked his body as Dylan moved lithely to grasp one of the female dancers and toss her effortlessly into the air. The two of them glided through a duet, elegant and athletic. It was the single sexiest thing she’d seen in a long time. A memory of being forced to attend ballet lessons as a child flooded back to Michaela, but this was nothing like the stilted recitals she remembered. This was hard, fast, and delicious—and definitely not just for little girls. As she watched Dylan’s muscles ripple through each move, she shook her head.

“How do they get out of all that makeup in time for the next number?” she asked.

“It’s only makeup on the face. It’s a skintight sheath over the rest of them—barely opaque.”

“Oh,” Michaela said, suddenly disappointed. She had visions of the body paint coming off on her hands as she stroked Dylan’s torso.

“Where did you find him?” George asked.

“He was given to me.”

“Well, you should thank your guardian angel. He is going to make my life such a lovely one, and in return I’m going to produce the most amazing dance works you have ever seen. This ship is going to be famous, darling.”

Michaela felt the smile settle over her like warm sand, and she relaxed into the rest of the performance.

Clapping and cheering when the other numbers were performed, she enjoyed the whole spectacle as

the six dancers built up into a frenzy of French cabaret complete with electric cancan and acrobatics as the boys tossed the girls around.

At the end, George grabbed her hand and dragged her up onto the stage. The two of them applauded

the dancers, singers, and band.

“Spectacular, darlings. Jake, you were a bit off in that second piece, but we needed you to be out of time, otherwise how would we have a spectacular opening night? Thank you, sweet thing.” George

waved his hand enthusiastically. One of the shorter male dancers blushed beneath his makeup.