Her Impossible Boss by Cathy Williams Read Free Book Online Page B

full of people chattering and, frankly, looking unashamedly glamorous. It was almost as though a Hollywood director had decided to film a movie inside a restaurant and supplied his own cast.
    Two impressive wooden tables were home to the most towering vases of flowers Tess had ever seen. White lilies intricately laced around a honeycomb of twisted driftwood neatly partitioned the restaurant, so that there was at once an atmosphere of pleasant busyness that was yet strangely intimate.
    Even by the impossibly high standards of opulence to which she had been exposed, this was in a league of its own, and Matt, sipping a drink and waiting for her in the most private corner of the restaurant, looked perfectly at ease in the surroundings.
    Nervous tension beaded her upper lip, and suddenly, unexpectedly, her body was doing strange things. For a few seconds her breathing seemed to stop, and—perversely—her heart began beating so fast that it felt as though it would burst out of her chest. Her mind had shut down. There was not a thought in her head. Even the sound of the diners and the clatter of cutlery faded to a background blur.
    He was wearing a black jacket that fitted him like a glove, and the white of his shirt threw the aristocratic harsh angles of his face into stunning prominence. He looked vibrant and drop-dead gorgeous, and she almost faltered in her high heels as she walked towards him.
    In the act of lifting his glass to his lips, he seemed to still too.
    Suddenly self-conscious, and embarrassed at being caught red-handed in the act of staring, Tess plastered a brilliant smile on her lips as she weaved her way towards him.
    ‘I didn’t realise that we would be having a meeting in such grand surroundings,’ she carolled gaily, makingsure to get the conversation onto neutral work-orientated territory as soon as possible. If nothing else, it did wonders to distract her from the glimpse of hard-muscled chest just visible where the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, and the way his fine dark hair curled alluringly around the dull silver strap of his watch.
    Matt tore his eyes away from her and glanced round at the sumptuous décor which he casually took for granted. ‘The food’s good. It’s the reason I keep coming back here. French food always makes a change from steak.’
    ‘Not nearly as good as the spaghetti Bolognese your daughter cooked for you a few days ago, though. You have no idea how long it took us to stockpile all the ingredients. Everything had to be just right. The mushrooms. The shallots. The quality of the mince.’
    Tess was babbling. Where had this sudden attack of nerves come from, she wondered. She had seen enough of Matt Strickland in the past few weeks to have killed any nerves she might have around him, surely? But her pulses were still racing and her mouth still felt dry, even after the two hefty sips of wine she’d gulped down from the crystal wine glass in front of her.
    ‘And let’s not go into the length of time it took us to find just the right recipe book,’ she confided. ‘I think Samantha looked at every single one at three separate bookshops. I had to stop her from trying to wheedle me into buying her a pasta machine. Can you believe it? I told her that it might be better to start simple and then move on to the complicated stuff. You…er…have an incredibly well-equipped kitchen. Everything new and shiny…’ She trailed off in the face of his unnerving silence. ‘Why aren’t you saying anything?’ she askedawkwardly. ‘I thought you wanted me here to talk about how things were coming along with Samantha.’
    ‘You have a way of running away with the conversation,’ Matt murmured. ‘It’s always interesting to see where it’s going to lead.’
    Tess tried and failed to take that as a compliment. The smile she directed at him was a little wobbly at the edges. ‘You make me sound like a kid,’ she said in a forced voice, and he tilted his head to one side, as