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‘So? Married women work all the time. She doesn’t look the type to stay home and play happy families. She has too much chutzpah!’
Too much of everything, Hugh wanted to say as he stared at her once more.
‘Really, Max?’ he said instead, somewhat impatiently. ‘How can you possibly glean the measure of a woman’s chutzpah from across the room?’
‘I was talking to her earlier and happened to make some critical remark about the recent rise in interest rates. She took me to task and told me in no uncertain terms that if I thought the reserve bank was wrong, I didn’t understand the effects of inflation on the economy. She didn’t pander to my position, my sex or my age. She said it as it is, without fear or favour.’
‘Kathryn does have a tendency to speak her mind,’ Hugh said drily.
Max chuckled in his beard. ‘Sounds like just what the doctor ordered for you, young man.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning I would imagine that the majority of the opposite sex panders to you something rotten.’
‘That is a burden I have to bear,’ Hugh remarked in droll tones. ‘If you’ll excuse me, Max, I really should mingle.’
It was a full hour later before Hugh accompanied the last of the directors to the lifts. When he returned to the reception room, the caterers had almost finished cleaning up and Kathryn was frowning down at the screen on her mobile phone.
‘That’s just so typical,’ she muttered.
‘Something wrong?’ he asked.
Her head whipped up, her eyes showing a most uncharacteristic consternation at finding him there.
‘No, not really. Daryl was going to take me out to dinner tonight. But…um…something has come up and he can’t.’
Hugh couldn’t imagine anything making him break a dinner date with Kathryn. Not if he was assured of having her for afters. Which her fiancé was. They did live together, after all.
‘In that case, why don’t I take you out to dinner?’ he said, whilst thinking he was a masochistic fool.
Her eyes rounded as her finely arched brows lifted sky-wards.
Hugh could appreciate her surprise. He’d never offered to take her to dinner before. Or even lunch. The occasional coffee break in the café on the ground floor was the extent of their socialising outside the office. Other than last year’s Christmas party, of course, which had been held in the ballroom of the Regency Hotel.
What a wretchedly frustrating night that had been. He could not stand seeing Kathryn with that good-looking smoothie she was engaged to. In the end, he’d zeroed in on the second sexiest girl in the room, the newest in the stable of attractive female lawyers his father invariably hired. He’d left the party earlier than he should have and taken Kandi— a name more suited to a hooker than a lawyer, in his opinion— to a room upstairs for the night.
And, whilst Kandi had proved to him that she would probably be a success in either profession, Hugh had not asked her out again.
That was the norm with him these days. One date per woman was all he could tolerate, his rampant desire for Kathryn having temporarily spoiled him for any other female.
‘Don’t tell me you’re not hungry,’ he jumped in before she could make some feeble excuse. ‘You didn’t eat a single bite of finger food that I could see.’
She shrugged. ‘I’m not much into finger food.’
‘I have to agree with you on that score. I prefer to eat sitting down. Come on. I’ll take you to Neptune’s.’
‘Neptune’s! But that’s one of the most expensive restaurants in Sydney.’
His smile was wry. ‘I think I can afford it, Kathryn.’
‘But don’t you have to book in advance? I’ve heard it’s very difficult to get a table there.’
‘Not so difficult on a Thursday night. And not if I ring now. It’s only half-past six.’ He didn’t like to say that the maître d’ at Neptune’s would find him a table at any hour on any night, a perk of being a billionaire.
Which he was already, courtesy of his paternal grandmother, who, not impressed with her own son’s string of wives, had willed her personal fortune in a trust for her grandson. By the time Hugh gained control of this trust at the age of thirty, his grandmother’s superbly invested millions had more than quadrupled. Since then, under his own management, and despite some years of economic upheaval in the stock market, his personal fortune had increased, which gave him considerable satisfaction.
Hugh knew people thought him lazy. But he wasn’t. He could work hard, when required. He worked very hard at doing things he enjoyed, like golf and sailing and, yes, sex.
Or he had, till recently.
It frustrated him to death that his extremely enjoyable lifestyle was being ruined by one very irritating female who couldn’t even be persuaded to go to dinner with him!
Because she was going to say no. He could see it in her eyes.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, confirming his guess. ‘But I don’t think that’s a good idea.’
Damn it, but he really wanted her to say yes to him. Just this once! Even if it was only for a meal.
‘It’s not unusual for a grateful boss to take his PA to dinner, Kathryn,’ he said in a brisk, businesslike fashion. ‘I’m sure your fiancé wouldn’t mind.’
Oh, yes, he would, Kathryn thought.
But she didn’t like to say as much, didn’t like to confess that Daryl had this jealous thing about her working for Hugh.
Kathryn was tempted to go, seriously tempted.
Neptune’s! She’d never been there. She’d never dream of going to somewhere so expensive; eating in five-star restaurants had never fitted into her budget. Daryl knew better than to take her to a restaurant which wasn’t bring-your-own, with reasonably priced meals. Tonight, they’d been planning to go to their local Chinese.
Kathryn suspected that Daryl’s last-minute letting her down to go out drinking with his mates was a kind of punishment for her coming home late last night. He could be petty at times. And quite vindictive. It was a trait that worried her sometimes.
What would he do if she actually went to dinner with her boss, to a place like Neptune’s? He probably wouldn’t talk to her for a week. Or make love to her. He’d give her the cold-shoulder treatment, knowing full well how much that would hurt her.
She couldn’t bear it when he shut her out.
Of course, if she didn’t tell him where she’d gone, he would probably never know. His mates always drank at a hotel in Burwood, which was a fair way from the centre of the city. It was also highly unlikely that anyone in their small circle of friends would see her dining out with her boss in a place like Neptune’s.
‘I refuse to take no for an answer, Kathryn,’ Hugh pronounced firmly.
‘But I’m not dressed for going out to a fancy restaurant,’ she protested. Though rather feebly.
‘Rubbish. You look fine. Now, go get your handbag whilst I make the necessary call.’
A still hesitant Kathryn watched him fish out his latest, hitech mobile phone, the one which could do just about anything short of autopiloting a plane.
‘Hugh, I don’t think—’
‘For pity’s sake!’ he interrupted with a flash of frustration in his eyes. ‘I’m not asking you to go away with me for the weekend. It’s just a simple bloody dinner.’
Kathryn felt somewhat chastened by her boss’s outburst. He must think she was a fool, making such a big deal out of his really very nice offer.
‘You’re right. Sorry,’ she said swiftly. ‘Just give me five minutes to fix my face.’
Exactly five minutes later Kathryn was standing in the powder room, staring at her fixed face in the mirror and thinking she was, indeed, a fool.
She should have stood her ground. Should have said no thank you, I really need to be getting home. Instead, here she was, with her lips freshly glossed, her hair taken down, her jacket unbuttoned and her heart going like the clappers.
Never, till today, had Kathryn allowed herself to surrender even in the slightest to her boss’s infamous charm. She’d kept herself immune by ignoring his good looks and focusing on the real man underneath.
He was a playboy: spoiled and superficial, without depth and possibly even without decency.
The passing parade of beautiful young women in Hugh’s life so far indicated a lack of moral fibre which Kathryn found deplorable. She thought it even more deplorable that women continued to chase after him the way they did.
Sometimes she despaired of her own sex. Didn’t they have any pride? Any common sense? Hadn’t they worked out yet that bachelor playboys like Hugh Parkinson only used them as sex toys, disposing of them quite ruthlessly when they tired of their charms? There was no future with them. None at all!
It pained Kathryn that she could feel even the slightest excitement over going to dinner with such a man.
But she did, there was no denying it. Her cheeks were flushed and there was a definite glitter of excitement in her eyes. In the last few minutes she hadn’t give Daryl a second thought. And now that she did, all she felt for her fiancé was a fierce resentment. He should not have put her in this awkward position. He should not have let her down. He should have taken her out to dinner, as they’d arranged.
‘Shake a leg in there, Kathryn,’ Hugh shouted through the powder-room door. ‘The caterers have just left and I have a booking for seven. You wouldn’t want us to be late, would you?’
Sarcastic devil, Kathryn thought, but with a smile pulling at her mouth.
It startled her, that smile. And worried her.
She could not go out there smiling at him. It just would not do! Neither would her hair being down. Too telling, that. And potentially humiliating. She could not bear the thought that Hugh might think she was attempting some kind of cheap flirtation.
‘I’ll just be another minute,’ she called back. ‘Having some trouble with my hair.’
Back up it went. Not in a French roll—that would take too long—but a knot, wound very tightly on at the back of her head, then anchored with pins. She buttoned her jacket up again, then grabbed a tissue and blotted her shiny scarlet lips into a more sedate red.
There wasn’t much she could do about her racing heart. But then, he couldn’t see that, could he?
CHAPTER FOUR
HUGH didn’t know exactly what to expect once Kathryn finally came out of the powder room. But during the extra minute she took, he began picturing her performing one of those transformations when the office girl turns from virgin to vamp in the twinkle of an eye by shaking down her hair, popping on some screw-me shoes, then flooding herself with an exotic perfume.
No such luck, he realised when the door opened and out came the Kathryn he’d become very used to, the one who didn’t actually need to do any of those things to turn him on.
What had taken her so long? he thought with a savage burst of irritation. Her hairstyle was slightly different, he supposed, though still scraped back severely from her face with not a single lock escaping its imposed prison. As he glared at her hair, he suddenly itched to run his fingers through it, to pull it down and spread it out over her shoulders. Her very naked shoulders, preferably.
Cool it, Hugh, came the sharp warning from that part of his brain which was not connected with his male hormones.
‘The caterers gone?’ she asked, glancing over his shoulder.
‘Yep. No one left here but us. Come on, let’s go.’
Hugh resisted the temptation to take her elbow on the way to the lift. He could already feel himself hardening. This could get mighty uncomfortable. On top of that, Kathryn would not appreciate any physical familiarity. He knew enough about her to know that. Some women were touchers but she very definitely wasn’t.
Again, perversely, he liked that about her. Liked the way she protected her personal space and her air of self-containment.
It was very sexy. She was very sexy. Hugh sometimes wondered if she was aware of her unusual brand of sex appeal, or if she’d ever exploited it.
Somehow he didn’t think so, which made her even sexier to him.
Wrong train of thought, Hugh. Damn, damn and triple damn!
Kathryn shot him one of her cool little smiles as they stepped into the lift.
‘The meeting went well, don’t you think?’ she said. ‘Everyone I spoke to seemed very pleased, both by the company’s progress…and with you,’ she added.
Somewhat reluctantly, Hugh thought.
‘You’re very good with people, aren’t you?’
How she managed to make even a compliment sound like a criticism, he had no idea.
‘Must come from all the parties I’ve been to,’ he said offhandedly as he pressed the car-park button. ‘By the way, Max was extremely impressed with you. He thoroughly enjoyed your lecture on inflation.’
Her head whipped his way, her eyes showing concern.
‘I’m not teasing you,’ he said. ‘I’m being serious. He liked you. Said I was to do everything in my power to keep you. Which leads me to my next question,’ he added just as the lift doors opened at the basement level.
‘Oh? What’s that?’
‘Do you intend to stay on working for me after you’re married?’
She didn’t have to say a single word, he saw the truth in her eyes.
‘I see,’ he said, astounded at his reaction to this news. Where was the relief? All he felt was dismay. Yet that was ridiculous! If he couldn’t have her, then it was far better that she go. Out of sight would be out of mind. He’d be able to get back to normal. And next time, he’d be very careful over the kind of female he hired as his assistant. Maybe someone like his father’s PA. Elaine was in her early fifties, a career spinster who’d been with Parkinson Media for yonks.
Clearly, his father was no fool. Or perhaps it was a case of once bitten, twice shy? His father’s first wife, Hugh’s mother, had once been his personal secretary. Of course, she’d been very pretty.
Hugh stared at Kathryn, who could hardly be described as very pretty. Yet she had a face which he was finding increasingly attractive, with its fine eyes and wide, sensual mouth. And then there was her figure, that tantalising, hourglass figure which was his constant torment.
‘And when were you going to tell me?’ he ground out, as— against all common sense—he cupped her elbow and steered her forcibly from the lift.
Kathryn was taken aback by his obvious anger. It wasn’t like Hugh to be angry, about anything! As a boss went, he was extremely easy-going, too easy-going. Life was meant to be enjoyed, he’d once told her when she’d chided him over spending so much time out of the office.
His anger upset her. As did the way he was pushing her along. Heavens, but his grip was strong. It had to be down to all that golf!
‘I didn’t say I was definitely leaving,’ she said with a degree of indignation. ‘I haven’t made up my mind yet.’
‘That’s not like you. I got the impression you had your life all planned out down to the last minute.’
How boring he made her sound. Boring and predictable.
‘There’s nothing wrong with having plans and goals,’ she countered defensively. ‘Not everyone can afford to just swan along without thinking about tomorrow.’
