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‘Look, when you feel like you’re getting snowed under just let me know, OK?’
Ryan’s words jerked her head back up. He must have picked up on the hint of apprehension she was feeling, but he hadn’t said, if you feel you’re getting snowed under…Oh, no! He’d said when because, as usual, Ryan thought she didn’t know what she was doing! And he-big, kind-hearted white knight—was rushing to rescue her without even waiting to see if she needed, much less wanted rescuing!
‘Listen, Ryan!’ she said hotly. ‘I can handle things!’
‘I know but—’
‘Jayne spent all Saturday explaining things to me and, contrary to what you expect, she was convinced I could cover this job without getting “snowed under”.’
For a moment she thought he was going to argue the point; instead he shook his head as if he were taking the biggest risk of his business life by just letting her into the building. Reaching for the typed list of duties that Jayne had left for reference, she studied it as if he wasn’t there.
‘I take it, then, you don’t have any questions you want me to answer?’
She racked her brain for one he wouldn’t be able to answer.
‘Well, then, K.C.,’ he said, and started from the room, ‘I’ll leave you to it.’
‘Wait! I do have one question.’ She produced an innocent smile.
‘Yes?’ he prompted, glancing at his watch as if calculating whether there was time to give her an answer in three one-syllable words or less. He frowned at her continued silence. ‘Well, what is it you want to know?’
‘How are you off for condoms, Ryan?’ Fighting to keep her face bland, she looked him right in the eye. ‘Be sure and let me know if you need any more.’
Apart from a minuscule tightening of his mouth, there was nothing to suggest she’d fazed him. His silky smile revealed even white teeth and superiority. ‘Thank you, K.C., but I’m well covered in that area—pardon the pun. I bought a new box last week.’
‘A new box!’ Kirrily felt her jaw practically hit the floor! ‘You’ve used fifty in two months?’
His ocean-blue eyes widened a fraction as if he himself was surprised by the fact, then he shrugged. ‘Who counts?’
Obviously she’d been under a misconception—she flinched at her own pun; she’d assumed that since busting up with the gold-digging peroxide blonde who’d adorned his arm last Christmas Ryan had been burying himself in his work. Apparently that wasn’t all he was burying himself in! Fifty in less than two months—what did that average out at? Mentally she couldn’t begin to work it out, but surely most people would be bedridden with RSI doing it that often? And she’d called him Mr Morality! Ha! More like Mr Amorality.
‘Now, K.C., if there’s nothing else…’
Mutely she shook her head.
‘In that case we can both get on with our work, then.’
The minute he was out of the door, Kirrily reached for both calculator and desk calendar. Fifty in two months?
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_ef43cdbc-8ba2-5814-b9f8-392c01689613)
FOR Kirrily the first few days on a new project always passed quickly. She found the excitement of working with new people and the challenge of a new task pleasantly invigorating on a mental level. However, the first few days of working for Ryan passed too quickly! It seemed as if the eight hours a day she should have had to perform her duties had somehow shrunk, and by five o’clock on Thursday she was forced to concede that she was further behind with the accounts than she wanted to be and light years behind where she should be. Though she’d been as busy as a workaholic bee all week, there was no evidence of it, and when Ryan found out it wouldn’t be honey-sweet praise he’d heap on her!
Rats! Where had she gone wrong? She’d followed the instructions that Jayne had left to the letter, being careful to maintain the other woman’s rigid routine. Careful? She’d been downright pedantic!
The daily duties were simple enough: attach any incoming account statements to the appropriate invoices from the previous month, check the pricing of incoming invoices against the original quotes then input them into the appropriate creditors’ records on the computer. Jayne had said that the task could take anything from a few minutes in the middle of the month to three or four hours at the start or end of a month. With a glance at the mountain of paperwork sitting on her desk, Kirrily dropped her head into her hands.
‘Oh, no,’ she groaned, not even wanting to think about how far behind she might be by the end of the month. Already she could practically hear Ryan verbally tearing strips off her for her ineptitude. Unfortunately she could also hear the sound of the locks on the front entrance being thrown, which meant that any minute now hewho-was-her-boss would saunter into her office and tell her it was time to call it a day. Not that he practised what he preached.
Considering the hours Ryan put in, he must have set himself the goal of becoming a millionaire before the year was out. Who was she kidding? If he’d worked like this for the last five years he already had to be a billionaire. No wonder her parents marvelled at the dividends they received! He was gone from the house each morning when Kirrily got up and, so far, every night this week he’d not come back until after eleven.
After his remarks about the condoms, she’d thought that perhaps he was spending his time with a woman, until her cat-killing curiosity had led her to find the condoms she’d sent him, still in sealed boxes, in the upstairs bathroom cabinet. That she’d been flooded with relief at the discovery bothered her as much as his absence all week! Either he was a workaholic or he was avoiding her. Call me paranoid, she thought sourly, but I’d lay bets it’s the latter.
It wasn’t that she expected him to entertain her, but, after sharing her house in Melbourne with two friends, she was used to having someone with whom to exchange news of the events of the day. Spending the last four nights alone with only Jayne’s overfed, over-pampered Persian for company hadn’t been her idea of a good time; Major might be a willing listener, but his conversation left a lot to be desired.
‘K.C.!’
At the sound of Ryan’s voice, she grabbed ninety per cent of the unprocessed invoices and shoved them into a drawer, barely managing to shut it before his shadow fell across her desk.
‘Time to pack it in, K.C.. It’s gone five.’
She looked up, hoping her guilt wasn’t showing, and feigned a grimace. ‘Has it? Darn! I’ve still got a few invoices to get through,’ she said, motioning towards the half-dozen accounts still lying on her desk. ‘Sorry. I guess the day got away from me.’
‘No doubt while you were catching up on old times with Trevor Nichols,’ he said, his disapproval evident.
‘Look, they shouldn’t take me too long to get through,’ she said. ‘I’m sure I can have them done in no time.’
‘Really?’ Ocean-blue eyes regarded her with scepticism. ‘What did he come in for?’
She blinked. ‘Who?’
‘Nichols.’
‘Oh. He wanted to know what he owed on his account’
‘And how much was that?’
She scrambled to think. ‘Uh, less than two hundred dollars, I think.’ She pulled the computer keyboard closer. ‘I can call up the details for you—’
‘No need. Did he pay it?’
‘Well, no, but he’s coming in tomorrow.’ Ryan looked far from pleased. Obviously the Nichols account was a dodgy one. ‘If you’re worried I could put a “stopped credit” notation on his file—’
‘Don’t bother. I don’t have the slightest doubt he’s good for the money or that he’ll be back in tomorrow.’ His intent gaze, which moved from her by now less than neat French braid all the way to her skirt, which had ridden up way past what was businesslike, caused Kirrily’s stomach to flip-flop. Quickly she swivelled her chair around so that the desk could shield her legs and averted her eyes.
‘Um…well, I might as well get on with finishing these invoices,’ she said, wishing that her voice didn’t sound as if she was suffering the early stages of laryngitis. Swallowing hard, she reached for the offending papers. ‘Like I said, they won’t take me long.’
The intercepting touch of his hand on hers was so unexpected that for an instant she thought she’d been electrocuted; given the way her heart and lungs momentarily ceased functioning, it wasn’t an unreasonable conclusion. Looking up, she encountered incredible blue eyes; her heart went from still to turbocharged in nothing flat.
The heat rising through her body had nothing to do with guilt or embarrassment and everything to do with the fact that she was a normal, healthy woman and Ryan Talbot was sexy enough to reactivate the pulse in a dead one. She’d have liked to think that she didn’t appear half as rattled as she was, but common sense voted it a faint hope.
Then in a blink he was leaning nonchalantly against the filing cabinet, causing her to think that she’d only imagined his thumb caressing her wrist.
‘Leave them,’ he said, his voice gravelly. ‘A few invoices are hardly worth the bother of you staying late.’
Knowing there were about fifty more than a few, Kirrily cursed his generosity. Staying late was her only hope of catching up. ‘It’s no bother; I’ve got nothing planned tonight.’
‘Forget it!’ He straightened with the same abruptness as he’d spoken, then grimaced and massaged his neck. ‘I’m not leaving you here alone.’
‘Alone?’ she echoed. ‘Aren’t you working late?’
‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘but I’m ducking down the pub for a counter meal, then coming back.’
‘Oh.’ She smiled as the solution came to her. ‘Then I’ll go have dinner with you first and—’
‘No!’ With an expression of absolute dread he abandoned his neck massage to rake at his already much fingered hair. ‘K.C., I’m meeting with a local builder and plumber to discuss a project; it’s business. The last thing I need is you distracting them from it.’
‘Well, gee, Ryan, if you’re that worried I’ll burst into a song-and-dance routine in the middle of your sales pitch on downpipes and cistern cocks, I could always sit at another table.’
A smile tugged at his mouth as he gave her body a very male once-over. ‘No way,’ he said. ‘If I walked into that pub with you there’d be more sales pitches flying on cistern cocks and downpipes than a nice girl ought to hear.’
‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’
He shook his head. ‘Nothing! Here—’ he shoved her handbag and jacket at her ‘—be a good girl and go home. OK?’
‘Fine! I’ll go home!’ Though his condescending tone made her angry enough to want to storm off in her best Thespian huff, she didn’t want to run the risk of his finding the hidden invoices should he need to get anything from her drawer. ‘Do you mind if I at least tidy up a little and turn off my computer first?’
‘By all means do whatever is necessary.’ He strode to the door. ‘But hurry; my meeting’s scheduled to start in ten minutes.’
Yeah, right! And my execution is scheduled for tomorrow, she thought miserably. There was no way she’d get that invoicing done now. Although perhaps if she came in early and skipped lunch…
‘Oh, and K.C.—’ about to open the drawer where she’d stuffed the invoices she froze ‘—do me a favour and feed that damn cat before you go to bed. If there’s not a constant supply of food in its dish the animal gets nasty. He attacked me the minute I walked in the door last night.’
Desperately regretting the fact that Major wasn’t a killer Dobermann, Kirrily nodded. ‘Sure,’ she mumbled. ‘No problem. Feeding the cat will be the high point of my evening.’
‘Damn stupid lock…’ Kirrily grumbled as her key failed for the second time to find its destination in the neardarkness.
Any other night the house was lit up as if Ryan had shares in the electricity company; tonight it was darker than London during the Blitz. It was already somewhere between three and four in the morning and at this rate she’d be lucky if she got to bed before the sun rose! Had she taken Jodie up on the offer of the sofa she could have avoided the fight with the front door. Dead tired, all she wanted to do was fall into her bed and sleep for a minimum of twelve hours, but even knowing that she was only a few hours away from having to appear perky and professional at work wasn’t enough to make her regret her impulsive decision not to spend another night at home. She mightn’t be the proverbial party animal, but she wasn’t a recluse either.
Finally the key found its mark and she waved a dismissing hand to the cab driver who’d solicitously watched her progress down the driveway to ensure that she wasn’t mugged before getting into the house. A few months ago she’d have laughed off as ridiculous the possibility of that happening to her, but not any more. An involuntary shiver shook her body and she determinedly willed her mind back to the matter in hand.
Mindful of Major’s habit of trying to escape at every opportunity, she eased the door open just wide enough to squeeze through then quickly pivoted, shutting it a second before she felt the cat dart past her leg. ‘Sorry, Major,’ she whispered into the darkness. ‘I win again.’
Sportingly the cat curled around her shins in welcome, but as Kirrily leaned down to pet it a hand closed around her upper arm. Her heart stopped mid-beat, raw terror paralysing her and choking her hysterical scream to a mere whimper.
‘Where in God’s name have you been?’
Enmeshed in fear as she was, not even immediate recognition of Ryan’s voice calmed her. Though her brain told her she was safe, her body hadn’t accepted the fact; her heart continued to pound in her ears and her skin still crawled with goose-bumps.
It’s Ryan, her brain chanted. It was only Ryan who grabbed you. Ryan won’t hurt you.
‘Answer me, K.C.! Do you have any idea what time it is?’
No matter how angry he sounds, Ryan wouldn’t ever hurt you. It’s OK. You’re safe—
Light suddenly flooded the entrance hall, its intrusive glare making her close her eyes. She sagged back against the wall, grateful to have something other than her trembling legs to support her.
‘Geez!’ Ryan’s voice dripped with disgust. ‘You’re so drunk you can barely stand up!’
Kirrily knew she should have been furious, with both the accusation and the delivery of it, but the relief and fatigue monopolising her body left little room for indignation. She was safe. Nothing was going to happen to her. As the realisation sank in it was impossible to suppress a smile.
‘This isn’t a laughing matter, K.C.!’
Slowly she rolled her head against the wall. ‘I’m not drunk, Ryan,’ she said wearily. ‘A tad tipsy, a little tired and in severe shock, but definitely not drunk.’
‘Good! In that case you’ll at least be able to open your eyes and explain where the devil you’ve been all night and why you didn’t see fit to let me know you were going out!’
That was when Kirrily discovered that even in shock she had a very short temper. Oh, she opened her eyes all right! And she saw red! The parentally outraged tone of Ryan’s words had been bad enough, but that he had the audacity to look as if he actually expected her to answer him was simply too, too much!
‘I…beg…your…pardon,’ she enunciated, through gritted teeth, ‘but you are not my father! Nor am I accountable to you for my comings and goings.’ She refused to be intimidated by his narrow-eyed glare. ‘I might be working for you, Ryan Talbot, but I clock off at five and what I do after that is my business and nobody else’s!’
‘Like hell! It’s mine while you’re living under my roof, damn it! Do you have any idea how worried I was when I got home after midnight and you weren’t here?’
‘I’ll bet not half as worried as I was when I walked in the door a few minutes ago and got mugged in the dark!’
‘I didn’t mug—’
‘You scared the living stuffing out of me!’ she raged, holding her hand out in front of her. ‘You think I shake like this for no reason?’
The sight of her small, delicate hand trembling in midair between them and the tears streaming down her face made Ryan want to cut his throat.
Hell! She wasn’t angry, she was damned near hysterical! Consoling her became his first priority, and once it did drawing her into his arms became as automatic to Ryan as his next breath. Expecting her to fight him but instead having her fall willingly against him and wrap her arms around him as if she feared to let go worried him far more than her earlier absence had.
K.C. didn’t like him coddling her—he’d known that for years—so what the devil had happened to her tonight? Knowing she was too distressed for him to question, he instead tried to calm her.
‘I’m sorry, honey,’ he whispered. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’ Keeping his voice soothingly soft and low, he stroked her head in the gentle, repetitive way he’d used to calm Jayne over the years. ‘It’s just that I was waiting for you and when I heard a noise at the door I came straight on through; I never thought about turning on the lights. I’m sorry. Shh, take it easy. It’s OK.’
He had no idea how long he stood propped against the wall with her fragile frame leaning into him; it seemed like mere minutes, yet at some point he must have dozed off because the next thing he knew with any real certainty was that K.C. had fallen asleep and the hesitant light of dawn coloured the room. Stiff from having one leg braced against the wall for balance, he shifted slightly, trying not to disturb K.C., whose head rested against his chest.
The serenity she reflected in sleep was so at odds with the energy she emitted when awake that Ryan was helpless to stop himself from tracing the arch of her right eyebrow. While K.C.’s features were too elfin to be called classically beautiful, what otherwise might have been called prettiness was enhanced by her gypsy-like colouring, which hinted at mystery and passion. Ryan watched as his palm moved to caress her amber-tinted cheeks; they were softer than anything he’d ever felt.
When she innocently turned her face deeper into his touch, he cursed both his quickening pulse and his morals, wondering how feelings of pure tenderness could so quickly transform themselves into lust. Had he possessed these feelings with any other woman, nothing would have stopped him from swinging her into his arms, carrying her upstairs and tossing her into his bed. But this was K.C., so once again he mustered a nobility and resolve that must surely have qualified him for sainthood and lifted her gently into his arms.
Holding his breath as she snuggled closer, he carried her towards her own room, steadfastly determined to ignore the heat coursing through his body and the images burning in his mind.
* * *
Kirrily threw back the covers and glared at the digital clock which, despite what the mid-morning sunlight flooding her bedroom was telling her, was showing the time as 6:07 a.m.; her wrist-watch, however, confirmed her worse fears—it was nearly eleven!
Ryan wasn’t just going to kill her, he was going to submit her to the slowest torture imaginable!
Shedding herself of the clothes she’d worn out the night before, she tried to recall exactly what she’d done after collapsing like a hysterical idiot all over Ryan. She couldn’t remember unplugging the radio alarm, but obviously she had.
‘Great!’ she muttered, shoving her arms into her robe and pulling the waist cord tight enough to rupture several internal organs. ‘As if he isn’t going to be ticked off enough because the invoicing isn’t up to date!’
For a split second she debated which she needed first—a shower or a cup of coffee. She hurried to the kitchen; showering while the coffee perked would save time.
‘God, how could I have been so stupid?’ she roared.
