Her Old-Fashioned Boss by Laylah Roberts Read Free Book Online Page B

her—Ava turned. Placing her hands on her hips, she stared at him.
    “What does it look like?” she snapped, feeling guilty when he simply raised a brow at her caustic statement.
    “Sorry,” she said sincerely. “But the sun keeps shining right in my eyes so I was trying to move this mammoth of a desk. I tried lifting it but it wouldn’t budge, so I thought I would push it.” She frowned at the desk, like it was purposely trying to thwart her.
    Roarke sighed, a noise filled with disbelief. “And you seriously thought you could move it by yourself? Why didn’t you ask me? I would have moved it for you the first day you started.”
    Ava dropped her gaze to her feet, feeling foolish. “I didn’t want to bother you,” she muttered, feeling her cheeks redden.
    Suddenly a pair of Italian leather shoes filled her vision. A warm finger situated itself under her chin and Roarke raised her face up so she had to look at him.
    “You could never be a bother. I take care of my own.”
    Breathless at the declaration even as she told herself that he didn’t mean it that way , Ava simply stood for a moment, staring at him.
    Roarke smiled. “Where do you want it?” he asked.
    On the desk, over the kitchen, in the bath, anywhere you want to take me.
    Get a grip, woman.
    “Umm, about a foot forward, I thought.”
    Without a word, Roarke moved to one end of the desk and lifted it. Ava shook herself and moved to the other end.
    “Here, I’ll help,” she offered.
    Roarke just stared at her, his gaze moving from her face to her hands and back again. Ava fought the urge to step back and apologize. Why should she? She wasn’t doing anything wrong.
    “Ava,” he told her in that stomach-stirring voice he had. “Stand back. I do not want your help.”
    Hurt stabbed her stomach and she took a step back. Roarke moved quickly to her and clasped her cheeks with his hands, heating her skin. “Not like that. I simply don’t want you hurting yourself, understand?”
    “It’s just a desk.”
    “And I am perfectly capable of moving it by myself. Or are you saying I’m not strong enough, not manly enough.” He puffed out his chest and threw his shoulders back making her giggle.
    Before she knew what was happening, she’d taken four steps back. Roarke moved the desk without any real show of strain.
    “There, done. Tell me if you don’t like where it is now and I’ll move it again. But,” his gaze pinned her with clear warning, “do not move it again by yourself.”
    “I’m capable of doing things myself, Roarke,” she challenged him, finally finding her voice. That dominant tone of his seemed to reduce her to a mass of fluttering nerves every time.
    “Of course you are,” he said, surprising her. “But why should you when I’m here and willing to do it for you.” With that he turned and walked into his study.
    Ava gaped after him. Internally, she argued with herself. Part of her felt warm and safe at the way he took charge and cared for her. Yet, she shouldn’t let him take control, should she? She should be independent and strong and...Her stomach clenched in anxiety. If she let him take too much control did that make her weak? Shouldn’t she stand up to him more?
    Yes, she should. But she simply couldn’t. Because, besides her friends, no one had ever tried to take care of her except for Roarke and Sam.
    “Hey, sweet.” Ava turned her head to see Sam stepping through the door. The smile on his face faded a little as he caught sight of her. Immediately, he strode over to her.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “Oh, ahh, nothing. It’s just, well...” she gazed over at the closed door separating her office from Roarke’s.
    “Oh.” Sam looked over at Roarke’s office door before taking her hand in his and guiding her over to a chair. Pressing on her shoulders, he waited until she’d sat down. Pulling a seat around so he was facing her, he tilted her chin up with one hand.
    “Roarke being a bit high-handed?” he