Outbid by the Boss Read Online Free PDF Page A

thought crossly.
    "I started in the wine department," said Chas as though he'd read her mind. He continued to gently swirl the wine about his glass with perfect ease. "Probably because I was young enough to shift the crates and scared enough to be careful. The boss's son is not always the most popular person on staff...people tend to resent you..." he smiled ruefully, "and leap to conclusions.”
    “Hardly surprising.”
    "Hey! I only broke one bottle. Unfortunately, it was a hundred -year-old claret. Very expensive."
    "Oops," Sam sympathized.
    "My father was less than amused..."
    There's a story there, thought Sam as a shadow flickered across his brow. She'd heard rumours, of course, but nothing out of the norm. Parents divorced, near financial ruin, and then according to one of the firm's most rabid gossips, along came Chas. And all was well.
    "Your turn," prompted Chas.
    "I'm sorry?"
    "I've done my fair share of filling in the awkward moments. Now you tell me something about yourself I don't know." Chas set his glass down and leaned forward, his left elbow on the table, his chin cupped in the palm of his hand. "Like why you have such a problem with authority?"
    "How about because you're rich and I'm not."
    "I don't buy it. You work well with everyone. In fact, the silver department has benefited enormously from your expertise. Try again." 
    Neither his expression nor his oh-so-ever blue eyes revealed anything but a polite interest. Sam cleared the flutter from her throat. That her parents had been killed in an accident when she was a baby was none of Chas Porter's business.
    "So what about you?" she asked sweetly, "Any other bullies in your family, or are you the only one?"
    She'd tried to deflect the conversation, but all she’d done was hurt him. His fingers curled about the stem of his wine glass and he sat twisting it from side to side then he turned to gaze through the leaded panes of the restaurant's window.
    Sam sucked in a quiet breath. The old inn was an oasis of privilege, elegant place settings and soft music, well-dressed people enjoying a late lunch and quiet conversation.
    She felt Chas' eyes return to scrutinize her. The light had gone out of them; they were flat like the pre-storm stillness of the great lakes. "Is that how you see me?" he asked quietly. "Nothing more than a bully in a suit?"
    Sam shook her head. "No...not at all. I really don't know where that came from...I..."
    She felt small and ungracious. The man had given her an opportunity to make amends for her flagrant misuse of company funds and all she could do was poke at him like a picador jabbing a bull.
    The waiter appeared with their lunch. Sam murmured her thanks and then busied herself with her salad. It was a piquant mix of mustard greens and sun-dried tomatoes; and the steak and kidney pie was delicious. "You were right," she ventured after a few minutes. "The steak and kidney pie was an excellent choice."
    "Glad you like it."
    They ate in silence like the long-married couple Chas so obviously never wanted to be part of. Sam sighed. It was better than trying to undo the damage she’d already done. And besides, what did she know about marriage anyway? Or love, for that matter. Other than a burning need that never went away, and an embarrassing tendency to tear up whenever she heard a sappy song on the radio, Sam had always stayed clear of entanglement. It was safer that way.
    "Penny?" said Chas.
    Sam bristled beneath his gaze. "No."
    "All right then. Do you ride?" he asked.
    "Horses?" she asked, interest flaring.
    "That is what I had in mind."
    "I haven't been on a horse since I was twelve years old."
    "Pony club?"
    "Hardly." It had been at the Toronto race course where her grandfather had worked, but that would require another explanation she wasn’t going to share.
    "Besides, I have nothing to wear..." Sam said with an almost imperceptible flick of her fork towards their fellow diners, older well-dressed women for the most part, a