Billionaire Boss (2 page)

“You can't fly to Montana like that. We still have hours to go.”

“Maybe I can clean up in the lavatory.”

He nodded to the steward. “Give Miss Meadows my bathrobe and whatever she needs to
shower. When we land, we'll deliver her bag in here and she can change.”

The steward nodded.

Kirsten gingerly rose from the chair, holding her wet front and trying to contain all the sugar. She followed the steward into the rear cabin, her mind captured by Seth Morgan's stare, dark and full of wicked promise.

All she could think of during her shower was that she and her new boss were off to a turbulent start—no pun intended—and she only feared it would get worse. If there was one thing she already knew about her boss, it was that he was a predator. She would need all her faculties to survive around him. After her father's treatment of her mother, the only plan she could count on was never to be the man's prey. That was looking difficult now that she'd been sugared like a warm cookie and served up for his pleasure.

The shampoo bottle slipped from her wet fingers, the clatter jangling her already frayed nerves. But she comforted herself with the thought that he could rattle her all he wanted; as long as he paid her well, and as long as she stayed emotionally invulnerable he could have all the cookies he wanted.

N
ow, how in the hell, Seth wondered as he sipped his second whiskey, was he going to get that image out of his mind?

The picture of Kirsten Meadows, wet and sticky, crystals of sugar clinging to her eyelashes like a dusting of snow, well, it was one damn vision no man would ever forget. She'd looked up at him like a lush, sexual, crystalline fairy, and if he'd been infinitesimally less civilized, he'd have made love to her right there in her seat.

He shifted uncomfortably and stared into the blackness outside the plane window.

The steward had taken a seat up front with the pilots. Alone, Seth could still hear running water from the lavatory over the drone of the jet engines.

The woman had thick blond hair, and it was going to take a long, hot shower to get all the sugar out of it. Against his will he thought of his own hands running through her wet hair, scrubbing the sweetness out of it.

He shifted again, and took another deep swig of the whiskey. The side of his hand was sticky where he'd helped her out of her jacket. Without thinking, he licked it. He closed his eyes, savoring the task. Plain table sugar had been made into nectar just by the addition of desire.

He wasn't just randy, that was for sure. Nikki, his model girlfriend du jour, was happy to comply with his needs, especially since he'd bought her a red sports car and ruby earrings to match it.

But something unfamiliar was happening to him. Instead of wishing Nikki could fly to Montana that night for an intimate encounter, he dreaded the planned upcoming weekend he'd promised her. He no longer wanted to show Nikki the new ranch. Now he just wanted to prowl around it on his own so he could size up his new employee.

“May I come in?”

His head snapped around, and he saw Kirsten standing in the cabin door, her small curvy form wrapped in a paisley robe the exact midnight blue of her eyes.

“Take a seat. We've got at least two more hours of flying time.”

She cautiously walked barefoot through the cabin, clutching the cashmere lapels of the robe together at her neckline like a spinster. Her innocent gesture charmed him in a way, but not enough for him to stop staring at her like a wolf-hound.

Meeting his gaze, she twisted her rose-colored mouth into a rueful grin and said, “I have to say that's never happened to me before—but then, I've only taken commercial flights and they put their sugar in those little packets. I now know why.” She laughed nervously.

He laughed, too. It felt good. It released the tension in the cabin and the terrible tension in his body.

“I'll have to tell Ricky to get some of those,” he offered.

She laughed again. Her face lit up. “Is that his name? The steward? We hardly got to know each other.”

“Yes, well, he got to know you,” Seth said,
his words more caustic than he'd meant them to be.

A silence permeated the cabin.

Slowly she rose and went to get her laptop. Flustered, she said, “I guess we can finish now—”

“I'm no longer working.” He raised his nearly empty whiskey glass and gestured to the bar. “Help yourself. It might do you good. You seem to be still shivering.”

She glanced over at the bar, unsure.

“Go ahead. I won't hold it against you tomorrow. God knows I needed a drink.” With that, he emptied his glass and returned to staring out the window.

Warily she stepped to the bar and fixed herself a drink. He was a strange man, but perhaps great wealth did that to a person. And yet there was something about him that transcended the money. Something primeval, earthy. Visceral. She saw it in his stare and in the way he always seemed to be shifting in his seat. Shifting because he couldn't quite seem to get comfortable.

She doubled her drink and wondered if the restlessness was catching. She certainly was restless every time she met that dark, disapproving stare.

 

By her second drink, Kirsten was getting over her unease. The silence grew into an exchange of pleasantries, finally to actual talk. Seth asked a lot of personal questions—no, rather demanded answers to a lot of personal questions, but Kirsten didn't mind answering him. She just explained away, the hum of the jet engines strongly comforting.

“There isn't a whole lot more to be said. After that, my mom and my sister moved back to Mystery. And here we are today. Just hunky-dory.” Kirsten sat cross-legged in her seat, her hand nursing the best whiskey and soda she'd ever tasted. The liquor left her sleepy and mellow. Even as harsh as Seth Morgan could look, she didn't mind it so much now. Now that the ice had broken, and they were talking.

“Why were you so hungry for this job?” His pointed question sent a chill down her spine.

“Hey, I could have worked flipping burgers at the Mystery Diner, but do you know what they pay?” She averted her gaze with a laugh.

“Hazel said you had to have this job. You needed the money.”

Depression crept into her like the whiskey. “Carrie's only eleven, and my mom—well—she's been having some health problems lately. She really can't work.”

“So everything's fallen on you.”

Kirsten fell silent. Finally she said, “I didn't need Hazel to help me find a job, but I confess, if this can work out, I'd really like that.”

Desperate to change the subject, she gave the cabin a cursory glance. “I can't believe I just took a shower on an airplane. I mean, how do you get used to all this?”

It was his turn to fall silent. He stared at her for a long curious moment.

Eventually he said, “I used to be hungry for things, too. I wanted the world in my lap, and then I got it. I guess I'm jaded about riches now. It takes a lot to make me want something these days.”

“It must be great to have all your appetites appeased,” she said quietly. “I just get hungrier and hungrier.”

“My appetites are far from sated. And I always get what I want.”

His words seemed more like a threat than a statement.

She studied him, a warning tingle creeping down her spine.

He said no more after that.

He only stared into the darkness out the window, dismissing her as if she had grown invisible.

 

The plane landed on time. When the steward Ricky brought Kirsten her luggage, she changed into a pair of jeans and a thermal shirt. Seth had a Jeep waiting for him at the airport and in no time they took off for the new ranch.

It was not what she'd expected.

After seeing his office, she figured Seth Morgan's ranch house would be a sprawling mansion tacked onto the side of a mountain. Instead, what she found was a master-crafted log house settled snugly into the land like a bird in a nest. The house was immensely livable. Fieldstone fireplaces graced each room. The ranch house didn't even have an office. Seth explained that he'd bought a ranch in Montana to relax, not work.

Against her better judgment to remain aloof, Kirsten was impressed by the building and the man.

The housekeeper, Viola, was an older woman with close-cropped white hair and high cheekbones that hinted at Native ancestry. She showed Kirsten her room and kindly left her with a tea tray.

Kirsten looked around the beautiful bedroom done warmly in aqua-blue cashmere, then threw
herself on the bed and went right to the phone to call her family.

“Carrie! Tell Mom I'm back and I got the job!” Kirsten whispered excitedly into the phone.

She waited until she heard the familiar voice and then continued, “That's right. I got the job! So tomorrow you quit at the diner. No more work. You need to get over the chemo and be happy again. That way you'll be as healthy as the doctor says you are.”

Her mom's expected protests fell on deaf ears.

“I've got it covered, Mom,” Kirsten insisted. “You should see the room I have over here. Just the fabric of the bedcover is like my best pash-mina shawl, so what do I need the rent money for? It's yours. You must quit tomorrow. I'm going by to thank Hazel in the morning, and I'll stop by then to check on you guys.”

She listened for a minute and rolled her eyes. “It's done. Accept it. Everything has worked out just the way I planned. Our ship has come in. Kiss Carrie for me.”

She hung up the phone, then hugged herself. It had been the best of days. All her problems seemed to be over.

But then she heard the knock and looked up.

Standing in her still-open doorway was Seth
Morgan. He wore only jeans and a wool plaid shirt. He'd even kicked back so much that he was barefoot, but by the look of displeasure on his face he certainly couldn't be described as relaxed.

“Your ship would like a word with you about tomorrow,” he said.

She rose cat-style from the bed. Her face heated with embarrassment. “I'm sorry you heard that—”

“Miss Meadows, no one knows my net worth better than I do,” he said cuttingly. “If you hadn't noticed, I would have thought you stupid.”

He gave her a dismissive look. “Now, on to business. I would like to take what Jim, the ranch manager, has in the barn right now and see which horses will fit my houseguests when I have them. I'd like a second opinion on the horseflesh, so tomorrow you can expect a fair amount of time in the saddle.”

“Certainly,” she choked out, near tears that her precious job might be threatened by another stupid mistake.

“I'll see you first thing in the morning.”

“I'll be ready,” she said in a raspy voice. “In the meantime, do you need me to do anything for you tonight?”

His long, hungry stare might have shocked her if she hadn't already been so afraid. His cold gaze raked her lips, then dragged down her throat, finally lingering on her thermal shirt and the way it stretched over her full chest.

“I'll see you in the morning, Miss Meadows.” He abruptly turned and left.

She walked to the door and shut it. Alone in her room, she breathed deeply, trying to release the adrenaline pumping through her body.

She couldn't afford to offend the man. She would have to be scrupulously careful in the future. Too much depended on her.

But when her initial fears ebbed, her heart still raced with a strange excitement. She closed her eyes and could still see him in her doorway, his face hard and handsome, his jeans shrugged on over bare feet as if he was just anyone, rather than a billionaire.

The signals her body gave her put her into raging denial. Her breasts, her lips tingled just from his stare. She dreaded to think how she would react should he ever try to touch her. Her conflict certainly had something to do with the fact that Seth Morgan was a man, and an extremely attractive man at that. The gulf between them economically was too large to bridge, and
more than that, she didn't want to get hurt, not the way her mother had been hurt by her father.

As her father had gained stature as an expatriate, he'd decided to trade up on his wives. Kirsten believed he was on his fourth right now, and this one was younger than she was.

Certainly, if her father who had only some power could do what he had to her mother, then Seth Morgan would be able to put her in a blender.

So he was not worth it and never would be.

Exhausted, she slipped out of her clothes and found her nightgown in her luggage. Sliding beneath the sheets, she was determined to put Seth out of her mind. She would do the job perfectly, and anything else that might be messy she would stay away from. She would keep theirs a straightforward relationship. A piece of cake. All she had to do was be professional and everything would be fine.

But as tired as she was, she still couldn't get the picture of him out of her mind.

And despite how well everything had been laid out in her mind, she hardly slept at all that night.

 

Kirsten and Seth had been out on the trail for more than an hour. “Over there is Blue Rock
Creek where I used to go swimming in the summer.” Kirsten pointed to the west of the trail.

She sat atop a plump dappled mare named Sterling, and Seth rode a tall dark stallion more Thoroughbred than quarter horse, named Noir. Both animals were the best-trained horses Kirsten had ever seen, and so it was a pleasure to venture forth on the trail until they were beyond the tree line and well into high country.

“Did you take your horse up here then? Back when you were younger?” he asked.

Shaking her head, she said, “I never had my own horse. We could never afford it, but sure, I trailed here. Hazel was always willing to lend a good rider a horse. Whenever I had a down moment as a teen, all I had to do was ask and she'd give me one of her best barrel racers. And after a long ride up here to heaven, nothing seemed so bad anymore. Nothing.”

She glanced at him and smiled. Still nervous from the encounter the night before, she'd been reluctant to open up, but once on the familiar trail with a good horse beneath her, she was in her element again and she felt in control once more.

“I even saw a grizzly up here once,” she confessed. “She scared me half to death. And you
know, it was a worst case scenario. The grizzly even had two cubs with her.”

“You were lucky she didn't come at you,” he said, turning a concerned eye to her.

Shrugging, she dismissed the danger. “She was on the other side of the creek, and I'm sure she wanted as little to do with me as I did with her. In fact, I can still remember what I thought back then. I thought of my own mother, who was protecting her cubs by bringing them back to Mystery.” She released a dark ironic smile. “It's funny. I guess I'm the mother with the cubs now.”

He seemed to freeze in the saddle. Slowly he queried, “How many children do you have?”

She wasn't sure if she'd heard him right. “Did you ask how many children I have?”

“Yes,” came the wooden reply.

“Does that factor into the job description?” she asked, unsure where he was going with the questions.

“If you have children, I will understand that you may not want to stay at the ranch. I can give you a bungalow instead—”