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The corners of her mouth twitched as she struggled to maintain composure.
“Are you calling me a liar?” He placed his hands on hips and glowered as the towel around his waist slipped an inch.
The action distracted her, and for one horrifying yet thrilling moment she thought it might slide down his legs and pool on the floor, along with what was left of his dignity.
Before she could reply he hitched the towel up, strode across the room, and snatched the offending garment out of her hand.
“Give me that. Meg’s been up to her tricks again.”
Sam should have known. Meg was probably five-ten, perfectly proportioned, and had a million silky thongs on rotation.
“One of your conquests?” She couldn’t resist asking, though what he did in his private life shouldn’t concern her in the slightest.
“My wayward niece,” he muttered, “who takes great delight in tormenting me.”
“Way to go, Meg,” she mumbled, thrilled at the thought of any woman getting the better of her uptight new boss.
“I beg your pardon?”
Resisting the urge to imitate his plummy tone, Sam schooled her face into what she hoped was a mask of respect.
“Nothing. Should I get started on my first assignment?” She pointedly stared at the thong in his hand.
“Forget it.” He scrunched the scrap of silk and flung it across the room, where it landed neatly in the trash. “As of now, your duties will consist of business affairs only. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. Consider this room off limits.”
Fine with her. The less time she spent around the semi-naked tyrant, the better.
In fact, everything about the job had worked in her favour so far and she hoped her luck would hold out.
With a placating smile, she nodded. “Certainly. Where would you like me to start?”
He stared at her for an interminable moment, before turning away and heading to the bathroom. “Meet me in the den in fifteen minutes. We’ll discuss today’s agenda then.”
Dismissed, she gave a mock salute behind his back and headed for the door.
“Samantha, there’s one more thing.” His commanding tone halted her and she swivelled to face him. “Lose the uniform.”
“Now?”
The response slipped out before she could censor it, typical of the feisty banter she exchanged with her brother’s friends, who were like family.
Interest glinted in his eyes before he blinked and stared at her, one brow arched. “Since when did the hired help get so provocative?”
“Since when did the employer think he could ask questions like that?”
“Didn’t your mother ever teach you to not answer a question with a question?”
“No, but she taught me to stay away from men like you.”
She tilted her chin up, determined not to let him see how he affected her. They were almost flirting. At least, she was; he looked plain uncomfortable.
“Men like me?” He frowned and folded his arms, drawing attention to his broad, naked chest.
Her mouth dried as her gaze strayed to that glorious expanse of muscles, noting a smattering of dark hair. She dragged her gaze back to his, hoping her interest didn’t show.
“Men who are egotistical, over-confident, world-beaters, used to getting what they want and letting nothing or nobody stand in their way.”
His self-satisfied grin channelled that arrogance she’d just mentioned. “I didn’t know I was so transparent. Lucky for me, my butler has a degree in psychology as well as servitude. What other talents are you hiding?”