Free The Boss's Proposal by Cathy Williams Page A

stockpiled on her desk, including various dusty letters which had been forgotten or ignored during the rapid succession of unsuccessful temps.
    Max was out of the office more than he was in it, and when he was in, he spent most of his time locked in his office, on the phone or on the fax or in front of his computer, frowning at rows upon rows of numbers.
    Now, as she cleared her desk in anticipation of going home, she stole a quick look at him through the smoked glass partition. Seen like this, he was less intimidating than he was in the flesh. He was reduced to a darkish shape which she could easily handle.
    Not, she thought smugly, whisking her pens and pencils into the drawer and clicking it shut, that he was proving to be a problem at all. In fact, there were times when she very nearly forgot the dark connection that ran betweenthem like an unseen, pulsating vein. She still couldn’t quite manage to slot him into the harmless category that she would have liked, he was just too overwhelming for that, but at least she no longer looked at him with the terror of a rabbit caught in headlights.
    And Chloe was happier and more relaxed than she had been since they returned to England.
    Vicky pondered this for a minute. The only explanation she could find was that her daughter had somehow picked up her inexplicable contentment at work with her efficient, childish antennae and was happier for it.
    She knocked briefly on Max’s interconnecting door, while slinging on her jacket and poked her head around it to tell him that she was off.
    He crooked his finger at her, beckoning her to enter, and Vicky quickly glanced at her watch, estimating how much time she could spare for a quick chat. She was accustomed to picking up Chloe from the childminder at a little after five-thirty, which didn’t give her very long in terms of travel. She could, she knew, leave her there longer, but she hated doing that. It was enough of a wrench not being able to collect her directly from school at three-thirty, without prolonging her absence. And she didn’t want to start taking advantage of Brenda’s good nature.
    â€˜ If you can spare the time,’ he said drily, tilting back in the chair with his hands clasped behind his head.
    Vicky went in, but remained standing and didn’t shut the door behind her. The point was not lost on her boss, who looked at her with wry amusement.
    â€˜How are you enjoying the job so far?’
    â€˜It’s early days yet.’ No point committing herself to an enthusiastic response just yet. For starters, if she decided to leave in the very near future, she wanted to be able to hang on to the tried and tested excuse about it not beingher cup of tea after all. And, additionally, she didn’t want to give him the opportunity to imagine that he had been right all along.
    â€˜You seem to have picked it up very well, from what I’ve seen.’
    â€˜You’ve been out of the office most of the time,’ Vicky pointed out.
    â€˜I’ve accessed some of the files you were due to update on the computer and it’s all been done, and unless you’ve eaten the outstanding paperwork most of that has been done as well.’ He sat forward and began fiddling with his fountain pen, a burgundy Mont Blanc with a solid gold trim. ‘And tomorrow we’ve got your first introduction to clients. Nervous?’
    Vicky, who couldn’t reasonably look at her watch without it being obvious, fidgeted from one foot to the other and tried not to think about the dash she would have to get to her childminder by five-thirty.
    â€˜Looking forward to it.’
    â€˜I apologise for not being around a bit more to show you the ropes, considering it’s early days here for you…’ He began tapping the closed fountain pen on the surface of his desk and she wondered why he had bothered to ask her into his office and enquire about her levels of happiness if he was that impatient