Hell’s bells! Addie had legs that went on forever.
She set the briefcase on the table and the coffee pot on a trivet on the bench, before turning. He dragged his gaze from her legs. ‘Where did you get that?’ He pointed so she knew he meant the coffee, not the legs.
‘The breakfast room.’
She collected two mugs and leant down to grab the milk from the bar fridge. Her skirt was a perfectly respectable length, but... He rubbed the nape of his neck. Who’d have known that beneath her jeans she’d have legs like that?
He shook himself. ‘What are you doing?’ The words practically bellowed from him. ‘And why are you wearing that?’
Her face fell and he could’ve kicked himself. ‘Sorry,’ he ground out. ‘Jet lag. That didn’t come out right.’
She swallowed. ‘Flynn, I know this trip isn’t a free ride. So—’ she gestured down at herself ‘—like a good dainty personal assistant, I donned my work clothes, made sure to get the boss coffee and now I’m here to put in a day’s work.’
‘I don’t expect you to do any work today.’
She handed him a coffee. Strong and black. She must’ve remembered that from their meetings at Lorna Lee’s. ‘Why not?’
He took a sip. It wasn’t as hot as he’d have liked, but he kept his trap shut on that head. She’d gone to the trouble of fetching it for him. Besides, it was excellent—brewed to perfection.
‘I’m here to work,’ she reminded him.
‘Not on the day we fly in. You’re allowed some time to settle in.’
‘Oh.’ She bit her lip. ‘I didn’t realise. You didn’t say.’
‘Where did you get the suit?’ Had she bought it especially for the trip? He hadn’t meant to put her out of pocket.
‘I have a wardrobe full of suits. When I finished school I started an office administration course. I had plans to—’
She broke off and he realised that whatever plans she’d made, they hadn’t come to fruition.
‘But my mother became sick and I came home to help out and, well, the suits haven’t really seen the light of day since.’
Because she’d been stuck on the farm. Trapped on the farm. He recalled the way she’d pressed her face against the window of the taxi, the look on her face as she’d stared around the city street below. Why was she in his room ready to work when she should be out there exploring the streets of Munich?
‘Flynn, I don’t even know what it is we’re doing in Munich.’
That decided him. ‘Go change into your warmer clothes—jeans, a jumper and a coat—and I’ll show you why we’re here.’
Her eyes lit up. ‘And a scarf, gloves and boots. I swear I’ve never known cold like this.’
‘Wear two pairs of socks,’ he called after her. ‘I’ll meet you in the foyer in ten minutes.’
* * *
Addie made it down to the foyer in eight minutes to find Flynn already there. She waved to Bruno, who waved back.
‘Good to know you can move when necessary,’ Flynn said, gesturing her towards the door.
Addie could hardly believe she was in Munich! She practically danced out of the door.
She halted outside. Which way did he want to go? Where did he mean to take her? Oh, goodness, it was cold! She tightened her scarf about her throat and stamped her feet up and down. ‘It was thirty-three degrees Celsius when we left Sydney. The predicted top for Munich today is four!’
‘In a couple of days you won’t even notice.’
She turned to stare at him.
‘Okay, you’ll notice, but it won’t hurt so much.’
‘I’ll accept that. So, what are you going to show me?’
‘We’re going to get our bearings first.’
Excellent plan. She pulled the complimentary map she’d found in her room from her coat pocket at the exact moment he pulled the same map from his.
He stared at her map, then at her and shook his head.
‘What? I didn’t want to get lost.’ In rural Australia getting lost could get you killed.
‘There’s nothing dainty about you, is there, Addie?’
‘Not if you’re using dainty as a synonym for helpless,’ she agreed warily. If it was important to him she supposed she could try and cultivate it, though.
He shoved his map back into his pocket. ‘While we’re on the subject, for the record I do not want you carrying my luggage.’
‘Okay. Noted.’ Man, who knew that negotiating the waters of PA and boss politics could be so tricky? ‘Okay, while we’re on the subject. When we’re in business meetings and stuff, do you want me to call you Mr Mather and sir?’
His lip curled. ‘Sir?’
Okay, she didn’t need a business degree to work out his thoughts on that. ‘So we’re Herr Mather and his super-efficient—’ and dainty if she could manage it ‘—PA, Addie.’
‘Herr Mather and his assistant, Adelaide,’ he corrected.
A little thrill shot up her spine. Adelaide sounded so grown up. It was a proper name for a PA. ‘Right.’
Brrr...if they didn’t move soon, though, she’d freeze to the footpath. She glanced at the map in her hand and then held it out to him. She could read a map as well as the next person, but she was well aware that the male of the species took particular pride in his navigational skills.
‘You haven’t been to Munich before?’ she asked as he unfolded the map.
‘No. What made you think I had?’
He studied the map and a lock of chestnut hair fell onto his forehead. The very tips were a couple of shades lighter and they, along with his tan, seemed at odds with all of this frosty cold. It made him seem suddenly exotic.
Deliciously exotic.
Delicious? She frowned. Well, she knew he was perfectly perfect—she’d known that the moment he’d stepped onto Lorna Lee’s dressed in a perfectly perfect suit. He was also decidedly male. That had become evident the moment she’d clapped eyes on him in jeans and boots. She just hadn’t felt all of that down in her gut until this very moment. She swallowed. Now she felt it all the way to her bones.
Flynn Mather was a perfect specimen of perfectly perfect maleness. In fact, if he’d been a stud bull she’d have moved heaven and earth to have him on the books at Lorna Lee’s and—
‘Addie?’
She snapped out of it. She swallowed. ‘Sorry, brain fog, jet lag, the cold, I don’t know.’ What had they been talking about? She couldn’t remember. She stared at the map and pointed. ‘So where are we? What do I need to know?’
‘Medieval walled city, remember?’
‘Yep.’ Nothing wrong with her memory.
‘This circle here encloses the heart of the city. Most of our negotiations will take place within this area.’
She followed his finger as it went around, outlining where he meant. A tanned finger. A strong, tanned, masculine finger.
She had a feeling that perfectly perfect PAs didn’t notice their boss’s fingers.