Free Outbid by the Boss by Stephanie Browning

but she’d never felt as womanly as she did that morning.
    Until Chas dropped the saddle flap and turned towards her.
    The scowl on his face was so fierce, she came to a crashing halt.
    “I see Mrs. Weekes gave you my message.” He said it in a tone so matter-of-fact Sam knew in an instant she’d made a terrible mistake -- nothing between them had changed. She’d forgotten her place and now he was determined to return her to where she rightfully belonged. Not an equal -- an employee, with neither fame nor fortune. This was so not what she was expecting after last night’s intimacy. The depth of Chas’ kiss had gone way beyond light flirtation with nothing between them but a slip of a nightgown.
    Sam hesitated, then straightened her spine. Well, phooey, on him. He wasn’t the only one who could play this game. Times had changed even if this lord of the manor had not.
    She might want to kick herself for being such a romantic fool, but she would be damned if she’d let Chas Porter see how hurt she was.
    “And good morning, to you, too,” she snapped, neatly sidestepping him. From the back pocket of her jeans, she pulled the gloves Mrs. Weekes had given her and tugged them on as she walked towards the stables.
    The smaller horse shone with good health. Saddled and waiting, she saw his ears prick forward at her approach and slowed. He seemed placid enough, but Sam knew she needed to take a calming breath.
    “And what’s your name?” she cooed. He swung his magnificent head towards her showing the flash of white between his huge brown eyes.
    Sam heard footsteps.
    “Max,” said Chas. “His name is Max.”
    “Hello, Max,” said Sam softly. She reached up and gently stroked his gleaming coat. Max rewarded her with such a soft whinny, she could have wept. As if sensing her distress, he lowered his nose and nuzzled her neck.
    Sam breathed in the familiar aroma of horse and hay. It had been years since she’d ridden a horse, but the pungent smell took her back to her childhood, following her grandfather around as he trained high-bred horses at Woodbine race track. Little girls rarely got to even sit on the back of one of those magnificent creatures, but she had always felt comfortable around them, and instinctively knew Max was the one for her. He nodded his agreement as she stroked his long neck.
    “You seem to have made a conquest,” said Chas, drawing up behind her, his scent mingling with horse and leather. It was overwhelmingly male. And beyond reach.
    Sam tamped down the lump in her throat, and turned to face her boss.
    “Thank you,” she said simply. “He’s a beautiful horse.”
    Their gazes met this time and held, a thousand signals flying between them without a single word spoken. Chas cleared his throat. “I thought if we went for a ride, we could put a bit of distance between yesterday’s…adventures and getting down to work.”
    What he really means, Sam thought miserably, is us. The flirtatious banter, the sparring with the boss, it all had to go. She was saddened by his words, but somehow consoled by the thought that he was acknowledging the emotional spark they had shared the night before. It went beyond the physical attraction and into dangerous territory. Territory she had always carefully avoided in her past. She did not intend to ever be at the mercy of anyone. This was the twenty-first century! Chas might be her boss, but he was not her master and commander.
    “Good plan,” she replied keeping her voice as neutral as possible.
    It might pain her to bury her feelings for him, but better to do it now before they could blossom beyond her control. She had already jeopardized her career; she was not going to risk her heart. A truce, no matter how uneasy, was in order. For both their sakes.
    Chas reached past her for Max’s bridle. “That big bruiser over there is Damien, by the way,” he said leading Max into the open expanse of the stable yard. “Can you manage while I fetch a couple of