Free The Boss's Proposal by Cathy Williams

one for my flat in Fulham, are at the front of your diary.’
    â€˜I shouldn’t think that anything that urgent will come up that requires me to get in touch with you at your home.’
    â€˜You can never tell,’ he said, slinging on his jacket and patting the pocket to make sure that his cellular phone was present and correct.
    Vicky, who had automatically followed him to the door, now said with wry amusement, ‘You’re a company director, not a highly pressurised neurosurgeon on call. Don’t you think that life might go on if you aren’t around for a couple of days?’ Then she suddenly remembered that she was supposed to be working for him. When she wasn’t on guard, it was all too easy to relax with him. Considering that one of the few advantages to taking this job, so she’d repeatedly told herself, was the fact that she would be keyed up and mentally alert to spot and ward off any potential danger, allowing herself to relax was not on the agenda.
    â€˜Maybe,’ he admitted reluctantly, favouring her with one of those slow, specialty smiles which he seemed to do unconsciously. He opened the door and turned to look down at her. ‘Maybe not. But don’t worry, anyway. I’ll be back soon enough.’
    The words sounded like an ominous warning in the sunlit office and attached themselves to the growing line of worries complicating her life.
    Or so it suddenly seemed.

CHAPTER FOUR
    N EXT TUESDAY , which had seemed a million years away, arrived with stupendous speed.
    During his two days out of the office, Vicky had jumped into the deep waters of bad filing, customer queries, letters to be typed, memos and phone calls and e-mails and faxes and things to sort out so that they were understandable to her . The time had whisked by. Every so often she would dutifully tell herself that she wouldn’t be around long enough to see the benefits of some of the systems she was putting in place, but already a little voice at the back of her mind was beginning to sing a different tune.
    Well, why would he find out about Chloe? He hadn’t so far, and he had stopped asking difficult questions. Perhaps his nosy curiosity had all been part of his interviewing methods, to make sure that she could handle his temperament. Of course, she wouldn’t stay there forever, but why not for a bit longer than she had planned? Why not? The money was brilliant, better than anything she could ever hope to earn in a million years around Warwick. Or around London, for that matter. She would be able to put a bit aside, and wouldn’t that come in handy for all the building work that needed doing on her house? The place seemed to be falling down around her ears and she had to find the money to do repair work from somewhere. Hadn’t she? And the work was going to be exciting. She was so sick of being given the dross as a temp; why not enjoy the sudden opportunity to have a few responsibilities? Yes, of course it was dangerous being around theman, even though he knew nothing of her personal life. But it was a danger she could handle. The fact that she was aware of it would be enough to deaden its force. She would keep him at a distance. In effect, she would use him, use him for the fabulous pay cheque at the end of the month and the fantastic chance to satisfy her need for an invigorating career, and if he started asking questions again or prying into her personal life, then she would dump the job immediately. And what was wrong with that? Hadn’t she been well and truly used by that brother of his? In fact, she could look on it as a kind of game, with her in possession of all the rules. She knew, after all, all about him, but he knew nothing about her. So who was going to have the last laugh? All she needed was to be careful and she could enjoy the situation instead of being petrified.
    By the following Monday, she’d made significant inroads into some of the backlog that had