Free The Boss's Proposal by Cathy Williams Page B

to get going. Was he under the mistaken impression that she wanted to see him?
    â€˜It’s no problem.’
    â€˜You must have a lot of questions to ask.’ His grey eyes swept over her, taking in her neat uniform of knee-length skirt, crisp cotton blouse and grey jacket which was now in place, obliterating all traces of femininity.
    The world of fashion had a lot to answer for when it came to suits for women, he thought. It was difficult to imagine anything more conducive to killing the male imagination. He decided that his office would be far better served were she to wear something a little less military, perhaps a silky short mini skirt and a clinging wet shirt, worn braless.
    He grinned inwardly at the chauvinistic irreverence of his thoughts. He personally knew several extremely high-powered female executives who would hang, draw and quarter him had they any insight into his current line of thinking. They would all be particularly disgusted, since he had always led the way when it came to equality between the sexes. He’d made it a company policy that pay reflected talent rather than gender, and females in positions of power had always been actively condoned within the various branches of his huge, global network of companies.
    As far as he was concerned, the work environment was not a cat-walk and inappropriate dressing was discouraged.
    Right now, however, he thought that some inappropriate dressing would do just nicely.
    â€˜No, none that I can think of offhand.’
    â€˜Sorry?’ He realised sheepishly that his drifting thoughts had gone further than he thought.
    â€˜I said —’
    â€˜We can discuss them over dinner.’
    â€˜I beg your pardon?’
    â€˜Your questions. We can discuss them over dinner. Fewer interruptions than if we tried to sort them out here, during the day. I could pick you up around seven-thirty. How does that sound?’
    â€˜No, thank you.’
    The blunt refusal was like a bucket of cold water thrown gaily over his head. The worst thing was that he shouldn’t have asked her out in the first place. He might tell himself that it was business, but he knew that that couldn’t havebeen further from the truth. He looked at her stubborn, shuttered face, her full mouth drawn into a firm, disapproving line, and felt the kick of adolescent disappointment.
    Except for the fact that he wasn’t an adolescent.
    â€˜Why not?’ he heard himself ask. ‘Don’t imagine that this is anything other than work.’ With a trace of satisfaction, he saw her translucent skin suffuse with pink colour and some vague notion of reestablishing his bruised male pride made him pursue the point with more tenacity than was warranted. ‘Your virtue is absolutely secure with me, my dear.’ Pale pink was becoming a shade darker. He noted that she was no longer looking at him but staring fixedly in the region of her shoes. ‘In fact, I’ve always believed it vitally important that sex and work don’t mix. The combination is usually lethal. I simply thought that you might feel a bit more relaxed away from the office, might find it easier to concentrate on any problems you might have without the constant interruption of telephones and people popping in and out. Naturally, if you have other, more pressing engagements…’
    He glanced idly down at a sheaf of paper on the desk, letting her know, without putting it in so many words, that her reply was fairly unimportant but that he was, at the end of the day, her boss .
    â€˜Yes, I have actually,’ Vicky told him. ‘In fact, I really must be on my way…’ There was a trace of guilty apology in her voice that made him clench his teeth together in frustration.
    â€˜I don’t approve of clock-watching,’ he said grimly. Now his jaw was beginning to ache and he slowly relaxed his muscles. He could tell that she was frazzled by his attitude but really, what , at this