Free The Big Bad Boss by Susan Stephens Page B

teaching me to read?’
    She held his gaze for a moment in silence as if she knew that everything that mattered to him would be contained in her answer.‘I loved being with you,’ she said steadily. ‘And you were a good student,’ she added thoughtfully. ‘And now?’
    ‘I don’t think I could teach you anything,’ she said honestly.
    ‘Well, thank you, ma’am.’ He curved a grin. ‘I can’t believe you said that—’
    ‘I can’t believe it, either,’ she agreed, and then they both laughed. And moved one step closer.
    ‘I haven’t had your education,’ he admitted as she started clearing up.
    ‘You’ve had plenty at the school of life,’ she observed. And when she turned to him her face was serious. ‘You had more schooling in that university than most people could deal with, Heath.’
    They said nothing for a moment and then he curved a grin and let it go.
    ‘This paint is supposed to wash off easily,’ she grumbled from the sink, up to her elbows in soapy water.
    ‘Am I allowed to smile?’ he said.
    ‘You do what you want from what I’ve seen.’
    She turned back to vigorously washing her hands again, but not before he’d seen the blood rush to her cheeks. ‘Towel?’ he suggested.
    ‘Please.’
    He made coffee and passed her a mug. She hummed appreciatively and started sipping. ‘Good?’
    Emerald eyes found him over the rim of the mug. ‘Very good—you’re a man of many talents, Heath.’
    ‘I’m a businessman. I do what I have to—as efficiently as I can.’
    ‘But you are growing to love it here, aren’t you?’ she asked him, unable to keep the anxiety out of her voice. ‘Just a little bit, anyway?’
    ‘Nothing would entice me to subscribe to your woolly view that love changes everything, Bronte. Do you seriously think love would be enough here?’
    ‘Obviously, Hebers Ghyll needs a little more help than loving thoughts,’ she conceded.
    ‘Help from a jaded city type like me, possibly?’
    ‘A man with enough money to make things happen? Yes, that should do it,’ she agreed, brazen as you like.
    A long-time fan of Bronte’s directness, he wasn’t fazed, and went in with a challenge of his own. ‘And the sparring between us? Could we work round that?’
    ‘I’d find a way to deal with it,’ she said, frowning.
    Was she thinking about the fun they could have making up?
    ‘The only reason I’m here,’ she assured him seriously, ‘is to make sure you don’t knock the place down when no one’s looking.’
    ‘And build a shopping centre?’ He laughed. ‘And, of course, that’s the only reason you’re here?’
    ‘There’s no other reason I can think of.’
    Opening the fridge, he took out a beer, knocked the top off the bottle on the edge of the kitchen table, and chugged it down. ‘I’m not a man who destroys things, Bronte—when will you get that through your head? I’m a builder by nature, and a games designer by trade. I see no conflict there. I create things. Cyber worlds, brick walls—they’re all the same to me; it’s what I do.’
    ‘But your life is in the city, Heath. So you wouldn’t stay here year round—and whoever makes a success of Hebers Ghyll would have to love it enough to live here.’
    ‘Every second of every day?’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t think so. That’s what a good estate manager’s for.’
    Bronte fell silent as this sank in. Even if she won the job there would be no Heath.
    ‘You can’t run a place like Hebers Ghyll on good intentions, Bronte. Look at Uncle Harry—’
    ‘Yes. Look at him,’ she said fiercely.
    And now they were both quiet.
    She was moving their mugs to the sink one minute—the next she had grabbed the paintbrush, jabbed it in the paint-tray and come looking for him.
    ‘You want a fight, do you?’ he challenged, dodging out of her way.
    So much, Bronte thought.
    ‘You deserved that,’ she told him, backing off having given Heath a stripe of paint across his arm.
    ‘Did I?’ He circled