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‘I think that relates to entries, exits and queues, not to apologies.’ She glared up at him. ‘And you have to admit that men need all the practice they can get.’
The man put down his case. ‘Apologising?’
She nodded. ‘It’s really something they don’t do enough of.’
‘Bad day?’ He slipped his hands into his pockets. ‘Has your husband upset you?’
She shook her head, a smile jumping to her mouth. ‘I’m not married.’ Gawd, no. She wasn’t going anywhere near that challenge for a long time.
‘Your boyfriend, then?’
‘No—’ Tahlia took a step back, her stomach fluttering as though there were a thousand butterflies in it. Was he interested, in her? ‘Look, I have to go or I’ll be late and you don’t know my boss—’
He didn’t know her either.
‘She doesn’t let you forget any transgression, no matter how insignificant, and it’s not like she’ll be sympathetic to my bumped-into-a-cute-guy-in-the-lobby excuse, even though she is seriously in need of a good—’
‘You think I’m cute?’
She touched her lips. Oh, damn. That couldn’t have been her. She never babbled, let alone incoherently. She never put her feet anywhere except where she wanted to go.
She pointed to the lifts, opening her mouth, but no words would come out. What in blazes was going on with her?
‘See you around then?’ he offered, his warm mouth fighting a smile that promised to be as amazing as the rest of him.
She nodded, swung around and forced herself to get as much distance between them as possible, counting her steps, measuring her speed to look as little like the hasty escape it was as possible.
What was that?
Tahlia shook her head. She wasn’t going to even think about it. So, the guy was cute and lust was a natural response. She didn’t have to concern herself about a bit of lust and there were so many reasons to lust for that guy.
Deep sexy voice, gorgeous body, tall, commanding and handsome as hell, but she wasn’t about to listen to inappropriate primal urges.
She needed a list of criteria for the most appropriate partner, a conservative, safe plan to dating, a timetable that would fit in with her commitments and work demands. This was not the time to get distracted or fall for anyone willy-nilly.
She stepped into the lift, taking a deep slow breath. What was she even thinking? One thing she was sure of. She was never going to fall for anyone, especially someone like that.
She was not going to make the same mistakes as her mother. No way in hell.
Case Darrington punched the lift button, unable to stop the smile that had crept on to his lips at meeting the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on.
It wasn’t just her looks. It was everything about her.
The way she’d pulled her short chestnut-brown hair up and back into a wild and spiky knot intrigued him, suggesting a conservative layer covering something untamed underneath.
The large chunk of hair that she left loose could be called a fringe, hanging down and cupping her cheek like his hands itched to.
Her skin had beckoned to him, creamy smooth. Her lips, full and plump like peaches just begging to be tasted. Her eyes, deep dark green, pinning him to the spot.
So much to explore…who was she?
He should have asked her name, should have skipped getting exact directions from the guard and just followed her. He should have kept her talking instead of letting her have her escape without even getting her name, her floor, a glass shoe.
Case put his attaché case by his feet and tried to stop smiling. Hell. She’d floored him, with her eyes, her lips, her words…
Case couldn’t say when he’d last been so flattered so simply. Had watched such a beautiful display of…innocent reaction.
He stiffened. What was he thinking? He wasn’t about to get carried away with any unusual aches in the heart that he’d thought had died on him.
He’d grown wiser the hard way.
The doors opened on the lift and he snatched up his attaché case and stepped in. He wasn’t here for anything but work.
He gripped his case tighter, the woman’s face leaping into his mind, her green eyes sizzling and her full lips taunting him.
Dammit. Why couldn’t life be as straightforward as figures on a balance sheet?
A woman with deep red hair swept into the small space. ‘Hello, handsome,’ she lilted.
Case turned to find fluttering lashes on dark eyes that were drinking him up.
He stepped back. That tone…that look…sent memories flashing through the gashes in his heart.
‘Are you visiting or are you planning to stay around and make all my dreams come true?’ she asked softly, her smile widening, showing teeth.
‘I work here,’ he said bluntly, staring at the lift doors, willing the thing to get to his floor faster. He’d have to look into that. The lift was too slow. Employees needed to get to their floors much faster, especially when accompanied by predatory females.
She waved a hand laden with gold jewellery, the bracelets tinkling. ‘I think I’d remember you unless you have that whole Clark Kent-Superman thing going,’ she purred softly, sidling closer to him. ‘So are you Clark, or are you my Superman? I do love games.’
‘I’m new.’ And he hated games. He’d seen enough games to last him a lifetime. Hell, his ex had been a master at them, playing him in ways he’d never believed possible.
She ran a hand along his jacket sleeve, leaning closer, affording him a generous view of her low-cut blouse and the assets heaving there. ‘I could show you around.’
‘I don’t think so, Miss—?’ He stared at the panel—the floor he wanted was the only one lit. Please let it be a mistake, let her not be working with him…The last thing he needed was a constant reminder of his biggest failure in life to date.
She giggled softly as though she hadn’t heard his denial. ‘Call me Chrystal. And you are?’
The lift chimed.
‘Darrington,’ Case blurted, striding forward.
The doors opened just in time and he kept moving. He couldn’t wait to get as much distance as possible between himself and that man-eater.
He only wished he could escape the memories of his failed marriage as easily.
CHAPTER TWO
The Beatles say all you need is love…
I say give me bug spray.
TAHLIA slapped her handbag on to her desk and swept up the files in one deft move, taking a deep breath and lifting her chin, the echo of her babbling bombarding her senses. What was that?
She was never like that. How embarrassing. She cast her eyes to the ceiling. Please let her not be so stupid again.
She glanced around her office, one wall full of filing cabinets, one with potted plants and paintings, one covered in current jobs and timelines and one made of glass with a great view of the lifts.
She shook her head and swept out of the door, striding down the aisle between the cubicles, replaying that débâcle over again in her mind. The floor could have done her one little favour and swallowed her up before she’d made such a complete and utter fool of herself. Cripes. How old was she?
She was far too old to be acting like a schoolgirl, that was for sure. Thank goodness that Emma and Keely hadn’t seen that deplorable display. She had a reputation to uphold. Cool, calm and always in control Tahlia Moran, soon to be Marketing Executive.
She swung into the last cubicle. ‘Morning, Susan,’ she offered, handing the young woman who was just sitting down a file. ‘Could you put some ideas together for this client? They want to change their look to reflect the new season.’
‘Sure.’
Tahlia nodded, striding down the row, doling out the updates for existing clients wanting changes to their websites and the assignments for potential clients.
She juggled the files in her arms. There were things a would-be executive did not do, and one was running off at the mouth in emotionally charged situations. Not that she was admitting there was anything but an overactive imagination and a neglected personal life at the root of that particular encounter downstairs.
Two years since her last real date wasn’t that long, not when she was ensuring a successful career for her future.
She clutched the files remaining. It didn’t matter anyway. Downstairs had been nothing but an anomaly. She wasn’t going to have to deal with that guy, or that abhorrent lack of control again.
‘Hey, you,’ Tahlia offered Emma, stepping into her friend’s cubicle and dropping the files on her desk. ‘Flirt magazine’s next issue—they want their update to match the theme and want another competition page designed and put on the site.’
Emma took the file. ‘Sure thing.’ The glow of love was bright in her eyes. ‘Did you hear? It’s time. Your day.’
Tahlia shook herself. ‘Em?’
‘Haven’t you logged on yet?’ Emma shot her a quizzical look. ‘Raquel just sent out a mass email to everyone for a meeting in the conference room at half past. Sounds like it could be it.’
Tahlia shook her head, kicking herself for not going through her normal routine—checking her voicemail, SMS and inboxes, both cyber and deskbound.
‘And?’
‘And the whispers suggest it’s about the Marketing Exec position.’
Tahlia’s belly fluttered. ‘She’s made a decision? Finally?’
‘Yep, it sounds like the Rottweiler has come through. So you’d better get spruced up.’ Emma tossed her blonde bob, her smile widening. ‘Now you don’t have any excuses not to get out there.’
‘Out there,’ Tahlia echoed, the words ricocheting down her spine, making her skin gooseflesh and the image of that cute-suit bounce around her brain.
‘Out there dating. Sheesh, Tahlia, anyone would think from the look on your face that you’re not keen to find Mr Right.’ Emma clapped her hands. ‘I’ve asked Harry and he has a couple of single mates and Keely says Lachlan is thinking about the possibilities for you too. It would be just perfect if you had someone special to come to my wedding with.’
Tahlia opened her mouth and closed it. What could she say? She had wonderful, interfering, matchmaking-maniac friends who were dying for her to find happiness like they had.
‘May I?’ she asked slowly, gesturing to the keyboard. Could the promotion really be hers today? Could she dare to believe it finally had come?
Emma rolled her chair away from her desk. ‘You have to see it to believe it, right?’
Tahlia stepped forward, clutching the mouse and logging on, clicking her way to her inbox. ‘The wording, the tone, the undertones could all mean so much…’
‘You’re still worried about the rumours that the company isn’t going so well?’
Tahlia glanced at her friend. ‘You know as well as I do that the whispers suggest jobs are to be axed and no one can deny the fears spreading are of a major shake-up or shake-down.’
‘And the latest gossip is that the owners have drawn too much of the cash flow out of the company to fund their overseas romps and WWW Designs is going down, down, down,’ Emma said dramatically.
‘That’s over-exaggeration if ever I heard it.’
Emma nodded, her eyes wide. ‘I know.’
TO: TahliaM@WWWDesigns.com
CC: allstaff@WWWDesigns.com
FROM: RaquelW@WWWDesigns.com
SUBJECT: Meeting
All staff,
Be advised that the meeting at 9am in the conference room is mandatory for all staff to be advised of the latest developments.
Don’t be late.
Raquel Wilson
General Manager
Tahlia sighed. ‘It doesn’t say anything regarding my promotion.’
‘What else could it be?’
‘The possibilities are endless, Em. It could be a new client coming on board, it could be about the rumours, it could be anything.’
‘But it could be your promotion. The Rottie always holds an all-staff meeting for changes in personnel.’
Tahlia straightened Em’s files on her desk. Was there a reason to get her hopes up? Was it about the position for Marketing Executive?
If it was, there was no one else suitable for the job so it had to be her. A bubble of excitement rose up in her chest.
Emma stood up, slapping her on the shoulder. ‘Come on. It is so about your promotion. It has to be.’ She grinned. ‘And now you have no excuse to get serious about that part of your life you’ve put on hold while you got your career all solid and stable.’
A chill raced down Tahlia’s back.
She smoothed down her suit jacket, shaking off the feeling. It would be fine. ‘Yes, not a problem,’ she stated casually to her friend. A relationship didn’t have to mean disaster, as long as it didn’t involve rash decisions, irrational emotions or incredibly embarrassing interactions with too-cute guys.
