Up Close and Personal Read Online Free PDF Page B

to—” The thunderous expression on his face has me rethinking the rest of my words. “Yes, Sir.” The box I’m carrying’s starting to get heavy, so I hitch it higher on my hip.
    “For heaven’s sake, put that box down before you get hurt.” He spits out.
    No sense getting insulted about his delivery. He’s right. The darn thin weighs a ton. I drop the box on the marble floor, straighten and rub my sore hip.
    All hunched brows, he barks out at me. “Why are you moving your things by yourself?”
    After fighting stop-and-go traffic for two hours, I’m not in the best of moods. So right now I don’t care if he’s pissed off. “They weren’t going to grow wings and fly, were they?”
    “Ms. Bennett.” I’m beginning to hate the sound of my name on his lips. “I told you to arrange to have your things moved, did I not?”
    He had said arranged . “Yes, you did.”
    “And do you not understand the meaning of that word?” He leans toward me, and I catch a whiff of his scent.
    Most men stink after a workout. Not him. He smells of clean sweat and that spicy cologne that’s driving me insane. “Well, I guess I didn’t quite understand what you meant.”
    He takes a deep breath, whooshes it out, calling attention to his flexing pecs. Lord have mercy, the man is built. “I wanted you to arrange with a moving company to move your things, not for you to move them yourself.”
    The idea strikes me as funny. I laugh. “Well, it seems silly to do that.”
    “Silly?” His brow cocks up. Bet no one has called him silly before.
    “I don’t have that much. Just some bedroom furniture and a few boxes. I brought a few with me. Clothes and such. I can ask a friend to help me move the rest.”
    “I see.” He cocks his head to the side. “You work for me, do you not?”
    I nod. “Yes, I do.” Or at least I hope I still do.
    “And you took time to move your things personally?”
    Proud to accomplish what I have, I hitch up my chin. “Yes, I did.”
    “So, tell me, Ms. Bennett—”
    I grit my teeth.
    “Did you complete the tasks I assigned before you left?”
    Oh, geez. I’d been so excited about the car and the prospect of getting my things, I didn’t call the messenger service to deliver the invitations or arrange for the catering staff.
    I lick my lips. “I wrote out the invitations and addressed the envelopes, but I”—gulp—“didn’t get a chance to call the messenger service or . . .” My voice peters out at the end.
    “So my guests don’t know about the party.”
    “No, Sir.” Screw the shower. “I’ll do it right now.”
    His hand darts out and stops me before I can make a break for it. “No, you will not. It’s too late to deliver them tonight.”
    “But I can have the service pick them up and—”
    He grunts. God even that sounds sexy. “Let me make myself understood. You’re here to work for me, not move things, lift furniture or anything else. Moseley?” he bellows.
    The butler materializes out of thin air. “Yes, Sir.”
    “Please arrange to have Ms. Moseley’s things transferred from her car to her bedroom.”
    “Yes, Sir.” The butler leaves, presumably to carry out Mr. MacKay’s order.
    “I can do it. It’s only—”
    “No. You will not. What you will do is shower, change into clean clothes and join me for dinner at seven where I’ll refresh your memory about the job requirements. Apparently, we’ll need to go over them again.”
    Darn.

Chapter 6
    ______________
    Sterling
    I CRINGE WHEN SHE SHOWS UP AT DINNER. Whatever she’s wearing rattles when she moves. “What do you have on now?”
    “Blue jeans and a beaded shirt.”
    Well that explains the racket. Curling my lip in distaste, I snap my napkin. “Tomorrow, after you’ve arranged the delivery of the invitations and scheduled the catering staff, go shopping for new clothes. Add casual wear to the list. Obviously, you’re in need of some.”
    “Will do.” Silence reigns while Moseley serves the soup