Chapter One

 

Zoe licked her lips nervously as she stood up. Her hands moved down her dress as if to smooth it against her body, but that really wasn't necessary. The dress was a form-fitting, elasticized sweater dress. It was perfectly acceptable as a business dress, with a turtleneck top, and a hem down past her knees. But it was red and fit across her lithe young body like a second skin.

She wore high black boots with three inch heels beneath it, and her dark hair hung well past her shoulders in a gleaming silken wave of raven black. Her makeup was restrained, for she didn't need any, but her lips were full and soft and red, and her long lashes emphasized her soft green eyes. She needed this job, needed it very badly. She had a husband who had recently become unemployed, and a two year old with health issues.

She was shown into the office, and felt her belly clench at the sudden predatory look man gave her. Yet she had to play up to that instinct he was clearly showing, rather than make it clear that she would not accept it.

He was a tall man, in his forties, with broad shoulders, a craggy face with square cut jaw, and loose brown hair. He was quite handsome, in a way, though old enough to be her father. But the look in his eyes was far too appreciative, and she felt as though he were mentally undressing her.

"Good morning, Miss Jenson," he said. "I'm Brad Stevens."

"Good morning, Mr. Stevens," she said diffidently, taking his hand as he offered it.

"That's a lovely dress," he said.

"Thank you," she said, very much aware he was still holding her hand, and had now let his thumb stroke the back of it.

"Let's sit down over here," he said, leading her by the hand towards a sofa and table in the corner.

She wanted to snatch her hand back, but didn't dare.

He sat her down, and only then released her hand. Zoe fought to keep from rubbing it against her dress as he sat down next to her, still smiling.

"So, you're resume says you've done administration work before," he said. "But nothing in the last two years. I'm curious about that."

"I had a baby," she said, her stomach clenching again, "Two years ago."

"You stayed off work two full years?"

"Well, we could afford it, and there were some small health issues with the baby, but now it's time to get back to work."

She smiled with what she hoped was enthusiasm. But the reason it was time to get back to work because Rob had lost his job. Not only did the money stop, but the health benefits were gone now too. She had priced out private health insurance even those few willing to insure a baby who had been in and out of the hospital a dozen times in the last year were ruinous.

This job, though, would have full benefits, and even though baby James had a pre-existing condition, it wouldn't matter. The company would have to accept him.

There were few such jobs available, fewer still with large organizations which provided full insurance, even to those with pre-existing conditions. She had been searching with growing desperation for some time now.

"And do you think you'd be able to devote your full attention to your work?" he asked sternly. "I can be a harsh taskmaster, Zoe. I need a girl Friday who is there every day of the week. A girl who will snap to it when I give an order, who will take care of all messages, coordinate all information, and smooth the flow of documents back and forth between me and my managers.

"I'm sure I'll be up to it, Mr. Stevens," she said.

"If you were to talk to people who work for me they'd tell you that I can have my bad moments," he said. "I can get upset, and when I get upset, I can be - a little abrasive, shall we say. I don't want a girl who'll squeak like a mouse and burst into tears at a harsh word."

"I'm pretty tough," she said awkwardly.

"Really? You don't look tough at all. In fact, you look pretty soft," he said with a grin.

His eyes moving over her body in a way which made Zoe want to cross her arms across her chest.

She didn't know what to say to his words so treated it as a joke and laughed a little.

"I want to be clear up front again, Zoe," he said, sitting back in his chair. "In this organization, an administrative assistant reflects on her boss. Perhaps it's superficial of us, but our image is part of our status, and thus affects my career. You will be a part of that image in that you will be the gatekeeper to my office. You will be the person everyone sees first. You're a very beautiful young woman, and I appreciate the decorative value of having an administrative assistant who is so lovely, but you'll be more than just decorative. You'll be working and working hard. Do you understand?"

"Uhm, yes, sir," she said, a bit discomforted by his words.

It wasn't the working hard that surprised her, but his referring to her as "decorative". She supposed, though, that was pretty much the same everywhere, it was just that very, very few managers or executives ever said it out loud. She wondered what Human Resources had to say about that sort of statement.

"You're young, to be frank, to even be applying for a job for someone of my seniority," he said. "You have some good experience, but most of the other applicants have a lot more. But you have a certain something I'm sensing I like. So I'm willing to give it a try, but remember, no one has ever said I'm a really nice guy to work for. I can be a real bastard. But if you're tough and are willing to take my discipline, we'll get along fine. Now do you have any questions?"

"I uhm, yes, sir, thank you, sir," she said, feeling a sudden thrill which she was desperately trying to repress. "I uhm, about benefits and salary."

"The salary range for this position is thirty seven thousand to fifty two thousand, at the discretion of the supervisor, namely me. We'll start you off at the low end. If you satisfy me," he said, leaning forward and narrowing his eyes "then I can raise it."

She swallowed. "Uhm, and insurance?"

He shrugged. "We have full coverage, of course, for you and your family."

"I uhm, have a son and he has a condition..."

"Will that keep you off work often?" he demanded instantly.

"No!" she assured him. "I mean, my husband is home with him."

"Okay, so?"

"Well, some insurance companies are reluctant to insure people with pre-existing conditions and ..."

"They'll insure anyone we tell them to," he said flatly. "They give you any hassle you tell me and I'll go down to HR and start screaming in people's faces. Believe me, they don't want trouble from me."

He stood up and held his hand out. Zoe hurriedly stood up as well, taking his hand. He smiled and she felt him squeezing her hand in a way which again made her want to snatch it back.

"You go down there and fill out the forms. If anyone gives you any trouble, you call me."

He gave her directions and his card, and Zoe, a little dazed by her surprising success, hurried to the elevator. She was elated, not having expected to get the job to begin with. As he had said, she wasn't senior enough, really. She knew that at least in part, she'd gotten it because of her looks, but couldn't feel guilty about it. The salary was way higher than what she had last earned, and the benefits would make sure Jimmy got his regular - and expensive - therapy.

She found the HR office on the third floor and went to the counter. They sent her to a desk where a middle aged woman took her information and handed out pamphlets and documents on working for the company. Then she headed home, feeling very much like skipping, even in her high heels.

* * * * * *

Working for Mr. Stevens was going to be a trial, Zoe thought unhappily. He barked at people, not just her, but everyone, except when he was growling or snarling. It was hard not to think of him as a big, aggressive dog.

She had showed up early for her first day, nervous and anxious to please. He had not greeted her with a big, welcoming smile, but a frown at her outfit. She'd worn a long, loose dark colored dress, a very proper business dress.

"Lose that outfit," he said. "Wear something pretty tomorrow. Remember what I said about you and my image. I liked what you wore to the interview. Wear things like that, proper, but sexy."

The comment made her gape, for no boss would have dared to talk like that in her previous places of business, but as she quickly came to discover, this was somewhat different. And she soon discovered why. The company, big as it was, was privately owned, and he was a nephew of the man who owned it.

"I-I'm afraid I don't have a lot of uhm, proper but sexy outfits that are right for work," she said anxiously.

"Buy them," he said. "Submit the bills and we'll reimburse you."

Her eyes widened at that and he grinned. "Remember what I said about my image. Think of them as uniforms, and why shouldn't management provide the uniforms hmm? Management wants its employees to look good, right?"

The opportunity to buy clothes, nice clothes, that were essentially free to her made Zoe almost giddy. It almost compensated for his brusque, even rude manner, and the way he looked at her at times.

Granted, it was horribly sexist to let a boss tell her to dress sexy, and worse of her to go along with it. But they were free clothes! Zoe had worked hard at getting her old athletic shape back after Jimmy was born, and succeeded. She liked dressing nice, liked being seen as attractive, and yet seldom had the opportunity to dress sexy without feeling guilty about it. She was married now, after all, and a mother. Worse, Rob was possessive and jealous, and he didn't approve of her dressing sexy, of other men looking at her the way he said only he should look at her.

Of course, since he'd lost his job he wasn't looking at her much anyway, she mused.

She worked hard at figuring out the systems at the office, and learning Mr. Stevens' requirements. It was difficult, and given he was so temperamental, she felt herself growing anxious about making mistakes. It was inevitable she would do so, for he was hard to please. What would she do when he yelled at her the way she'd already heard him yell at others?

"Zoe! Get in here!" he called halfway through the morning.

She stood up and hurried into the inner office to find him at his desk, looking at his computer monitor.

"Got your notebook?"

She shook her head and he scowled.

"Never come in here without it. Get it!"

She hurried back to her desk, grabbed the notebook and then hurried back to stand in front of his desk.

"Take down these numbers," he ordered.

She began writing the numbers down, waiting as he apparently scrolled through various things he was looking at. He called out a dozen numbers, then nodded.

"That should do for now. Those are what I like. Go and order them."

"Uhm, from where, sir?" she asked, thinking he perhaps meant office supplies.

"It's called Victoria's Secrete. I'm sure you've heard of them."

She blinked in surprise. "Go on the web site and order them. Here, use my company card."

He tossed the credit card on the desk and she picked it up almost without thinking, still staring at him.

"Type in your size and order them, get them delivered as soon as possible."

She stared at him as he picked up the phone and called one of his managers, and he glared at her and motioned her out.

Holy shit, she thought dazed.

She swallowed nervously, then sat down at her desk and called up the web site. She felt a sense of relief that none of the numbers she'd punched in were lingerie. At least he hadn't gotten quite that far out of line. They were dresses, for the most part, dresses not that much different than the one she'd worn to the interview. In fact, he had reasonably good taste, she thought grudgingly.

A few of them made her mind squirm a bit. They weren't indecent - exactly. It wasn't like he had selected little black leather miniskirts or anything. But they were all calculated to show off a woman's body to best effect, and a couple of them had what she regarded as an immodest amount of cleavage for the office. It wasn't huge cleavage, but any cleavage at an office was generally out of bounds.

She didn't really see where she had a choice, though. Mr. Stevens was not a man who generally welcomed argument. She had already heard him say "It's my way or the highway" twice that morning to people on the phone.

She ordered the clothes, feeling a bit dazed as she did. It was a pretty small price to pay for a job which paid so well and had such great benefits.

The next day she wore the red dress, which pleased him, but her hair didn't. He scowled at it. "I like the hair loose," he said.

And then he reached up and pulled free the clips she'd used to pull it back in a nice formal way for work.

"Shake your hair out," he said.

He combed his fingers through it casually and then nodded. "Keep your hair loose. It looks nice."

He turned away, and his hand came back and slapped her bottom as he walked away, making her yelp and jerk forward.

She turned and gaped at his back as he disappeared into his office, then shook her head and sat down, knowing she was going to have more trouble from him.

At the same time there was something admirable about him. He was big, tough minded, and had an overpowering personality. He was a man with utmost self-confidence, even arrogance. He was no modern sensitive, caring man. He was a throwback. He was a man's man, a man used to giving orders and having people jump at his word.

There was something very - attractive about that to a young woman, even a young woman twenty years his junior who was already married.

She loved Rob, but he was completely unlike Mr. Stevens. He was a caring, nurturing person quite willing to compromise on most things - other than his possessiveness, which he agreed was an issue he needed to work on. And of course, lately, unemployed, he had gotten more sullen and less affectionate. He'd been glad when she got the job, of course, but she could tell that it really bugged him that she was employed and he wasn't.

Her dress the next day was blue. It was tight, well above the knees, and had a little cleavage she would have previously considered unacceptable at work. But Stevens looked at it, looked directly at the cleavage and nodded his approval. "Sexy, hot," he said. "I like it."

"Uhm, thank you, sir," she said, blushing a bit.

An hour later she blushed even more. She was leaning over the table at the side of the room, gathering together different sheets for a report when he stormed up behind her and his hand cracked painfully against her backside.

She yelped and jerked upright, whirling around to face him.