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He couldn’t be attracted. At all. Why would he be?
A moment later he blinked that consciousness away and turned to stare at the other man. ‘Unless you have something new to add to the discussion, Cartwright, perhaps we could wind this up.’
Focusing on work was a great idea, really. If her heart had already done a little flip-flop dance, well, that didn’t matter. She would simply force all systems back into submission because control was the thing.
Control her destiny and it couldn’t hurt—control—her, and that was exactly how she wanted things to be.
Rick cleared his throat. ‘Mr Cartwright, your committee members will have my report before your eleven o’clock meeting this morning.’
‘There’s no need to send it to everyone. I’ll deliver it at the meeting.’ The man actually seemed to believe that Rick would agree to this.
‘I assure you, it will be no trouble to see the report into the hands of the whole committee.’ Deep voice. Steel-edged politeness.
Marissa had arrived at work this morning expecting to be stultifyingly bored with office filing for at least the next several days. Instead, Rick’s secretary had propped himself up in her doorway and croaked out his request that she meet his boss on site so he could take himself off to the doctor.
Next minute Marissa had been whipping along in a taxi, and then she’d found Rick waiting for her at the bridge site like a knight in shining hard hat.
Well, not really a knight. No horse. But he’d listened patiently as she’d given a flurried explanation to go with her sudden appearance, then he’d said, ‘Yes, I know. Shall we?’ and had cupped her elbow to escort her onto the bridge.
That constituted contact, which was why she could blame this entire blip in her reaction to him on her senses, not her intellect.
Rick went on, ‘The report will explain why your ideas won’t work, and will agree with my assessor’s initial report and recommend the committee works directly with him from now on. Had there not been a temp from downstairs manning my office the day you made your appointment, you’d have been informed that you should meet with the Project Manager today, not me.’
Having a temp make an inappropriate appointment for him explained how Rick had ended up wasting his time on this meeting. Marissa had wondered. Her attraction to him didn’t explain anything, except her hormones apparently hadn’t read her Blinddatebrides profile or her list of requirements in a prospective mate.
Date. Prospective date. And this man wasn’t one. She expected all of her to take note.
‘You’ll be billed for this discussion. I hope your interactions with our company will remain amicable and be a little more focused in the future.’ Having made it plain that the man’s efforts to bypass the proper channels hadn’t come free of charge, Rick nodded. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse us.’
Good. It was over. They could get back to the office and Marissa could forget this weird awareness of the boss and return to her real work. In this instance, taking care of the backlog of filing Gordon had left behind before he’d gone on holiday and, once that was done, a long list of non-urgent hack work he’d left for her.
Rick’s firm fingers wrapped around her elbow.
Instant overload.
Nerve-endings. Senses. Her gaze flew to his. He was already watching her. His fingers tightened.
For a frozen heartbeat his gaze became very intent indeed. Then he shook his head and swept her away along the bridge and she started to breathe again and reminded herself of her focus.
Nice. Ordinary. Guy.
Someone to have babies with. If they wanted to. At some point when they decided they’d like that. No rush at all. Again, Marissa was the leader of this particular outfit, not her clock or her hormones or anything else.
She frowned. What did she mean, clock? As in ticking biological clock? How silly. She simply wanted someone steady and dependable and completely invested in building a solid relationship of trust, friendship and affection with her.
Sure, that might mean a family one day, but she didn’t feel driven to have children. Just because she found herself noticing mothers with babies in supermarkets and shops and on the street …
No. The Big 3-0 didn’t stand for B. A. B. Y.
Not at all.
It only stood for birthday-she-didn’t-want-to-think-about.
Hmph.
And just because she’d noticed the Morgan’s boss …
‘Tom explained he was unwell before he sent you out here to meet me?’ Rick spoke the words as he steered her along. ‘Did he give you his travel pack?’
‘I met with Tom briefly at the office before his wife whisked him away to go to the doctor.’ Marissa tapped the bag that slapped against her hip with each step.
Rick must be around six foot two inches tall. Much of it appeared to be strong, ground-eating legs, not that she wanted to think about his legs, or even his anatomy in general. ‘And, yes, I have Tom’s travel pack.’
The shoes that went so nicely with her chocolate-brown knee-length skirt were also shoved in the tote.
‘You’ll need it for dictation on the trip back to the office.’ He hit the base of the bridge without slowing his pace, though he took care to make sure she could keep up.
As he walked forward he dropped his hold on her and drew out his mobile phone. The conversation when the number picked up brought an edge of concern to his face and deepened the grooves on either side of his firm, moulded lips.
Would those grooves crease appealingly when he smiled?
Not interested in the answer to that. Not interested in thelips that would form the smile, or the abandoned feeling in one particular elbow either.
‘You’ll recover, though? … What’s the treatment? … Can Linda get some time off work? If she can’t, I’ll arrange nursing care for you.’ He listened for a moment and some of the tension in his face eased. ‘Okay. You’ve got it covered then, but if you think of anything you need, you let me know, and don’t worry about work. I’ll cope.’
He paused. His grey gaze examined her, frankly assessing her before he spoke again. ‘It wasn’t your fault I ended up at this meeting this morning, Tom. We agreed to put a temp in the chair that day and she apparently didn’t know any better than to book me for this appointment instead of the Project Manager. Cartwright took advantage of that fact.’
The second pause lasted longer, or maybe it felt that way because his gaze stayed on her the whole time. ‘Yes, I know and I suppose you’re right. I’d had the same thought.’ His tone softened. ‘Now let Linda put you to bed, man. I’ll check in with her later.’
Before Marissa could get all mushy over that obvious concern for his employee, or feel uneasy as a result of his focus on her, he closed the phone.
‘Is Tom—?’ She got that far with the question before he brought them to a halt beside a large slate-coloured four-wheel-drive car.
People called them cars. Marissa told herself this was a muscular extension of its owner. All strong lines and height and breadth and power. It was twice as tall as an ordinary car, and it should stand as a warning to her. There was no softness to be found here, no gentler side, just sheer strength.
Really? Because Rick had seemed quite considerate, as well as all those other things.
‘Tom is ill with what appears to be a hard-hitting virus. Ross River fever, the doctor thinks.’ Rick removed his hard hat and ran his hand through his hair for real. Thick dark hair with a glint or two of silver at the temples. He was thirty-seven years old, her boss Gordon had told her, with degrees in both civil engineering and architecture.
Rick had used those and other skills to forge his way to massive success consulting on structural refurbishment and undertaking new construction work. Bridges, buildings, roads, he’d covered all of it and now had a team of several hundred people working under him, just in the office side of his business alone.
That was what Marissa needed to remember. The word ‘driven’ probably didn’t begin to describe him.
Driven. Willing to do anything to get what he wanted, no matter how that impacted on others? Like Michael Unsworth?
‘Ross River fever can be quite debilitating while it lasts, can’t it? Tom did look very unwell this morning.’ Marissa had worried for the man until he’d assured her that his wife would soon be there to collect him. She didn’t want her thoughts on Rick, and she pursued the conversation with that in mind. ‘I hope Tom recovers quickly and fully.’
‘Linda will make sure he rests, and I’ll be keeping an eye on his progress …’ He used the remote on his keyring to unlock his car. Even the movement of those strong, long-fingered hands appealed.
‘I’m glad I could fill in for Tom this morning, though the meeting turned out to be a bit of a waste of time for you.’ Marissa wrestled with the strap of her hard hat and finally got the thing off. Wrestled to get her thoughts into submission at the same time. A quick shake of her head took care of any hat hair possibility, though she knew that nothing would keep her curls down for long.
‘I appreciated that you got yourself here quickly when Tom couldn’t. Make sure you hand your taxi receipt in for reimbursement.’ He had his hand out, reaching to open the passenger door. It paused mid-stretch as his gaze locked onto her head and stark male awareness flared in the backs of his eyes. ‘Your hair—’
‘Is it a mess? I’m afraid I can’t do a whole lot with it, though I do occasionally tie it back or put it up.’ She uttered the words while she tried to come to terms with the expression in his eyes, with the reciprocal burst of interest it raised in her. Goosebumps tingled over her nape and down her arm. ‘It’s just that it takes ages and I was busy this morning,’ she finished rather lamely while she fought not to notice those reactions.
‘“Mess” wasn’t really what I was thinking.’ He murmured the admission as though against his will, and then, ‘Let me have the hat.’ His fingers brushed hers as he took it from her.
Warmth flowed back up her arm again from the brief contact.
Totally immune to him, are we? Doesn’t look like it, and he definitely did notice you just now. You saw it for yourself.
Oh, shut up!
He tossed the hats onto the back seat and ushered her towards the front one. ‘Hop in. This was my third stop this morning. I have quite a bit of dictation for the trip back to the office. It’s up to you whether you speak your notes into a recorder or write them down, but there are deals in progress, so we need to get moving.’
‘I’m quite willing to be occupied.’ And you see? The Morgan’s boss was highly focused on his work, his success. All those things Michael had cared the most about, had used her to achieve. Marissa hopped, or rather, he boosted her up into the high cab of the car and she landed in the seat with a bit of a plop. It was a soft, comfortable, welcoming seat, contrasting with the strength of the vehicle itself.
Not that she thought Rick Morgan had a soft side to match his car. She couldn’t let herself think that. He was off-limits to her in any case and she needed her hormones to accept that fact without any further pointless comparisons.
The manoeuvre had also left rather a lot of leg exposed and she quickly tugged the skirt back into place.
Rick’s gaze locked onto that expanse of leg and he caught his breath. Blinked twice. And then he strode around the front of the vehicle with his shoulders thrown back and a shuttered expression on his face that made her more conscious of him than ever.
He couldn’t want her. In fact he was probably wondering why on earth he had noticed her at all. She would seem like part of the furniture to him. Like a coffee table with sturdy blocks keeping it low to the ground. Well, women her height didn’t have slender legs that went on for ever, did they? Not that she was comparing herself to a coffee table.
‘I’ll take written notes.’ She didn’t want to speak aloud in front of him for who knew how long, repeating everything he said. That would feel far too intim—uncomfortable. ‘It’ll be more efficient.’
‘Then let’s see what we can do about cementing the positive outcomes that are riding on this morning’s earlier visits.’ He set the car in motion while she prepared herself—a man with power and achievement on his mind.
Michael Unsworth had been all about those things too, in the most arrogant of ways, though it had taken her way too long to see that, to see beyond his surface charm. He’d led her on, taken credit for all her hard work for him as though he’d done it all himself and, when she’d called him on that, he’d dumped her, had claimed their secret engagement had never existed. She was more than over all that, of course. It had happened months ago and she’d told him what a snake he was at the time.
Yes. Totally moved on. Her ongoing tendency to occasionally blare raging I don’t need a man style music in her apartment at night notwithstanding.
She happened to like the musical accompaniments to some of those particular songs, and if she truly felt that way she wouldn’t be trying to find a man she liked on a dating site, would she?
And you don’t think you’re so keen to find a man because Michael dumped you and your birthday will be the anniversary of the day you believed you and he became ‘secretly’ engaged as well as making you officially ‘old’? You’re not out to prove something? Several somethings, in fact?
She was simply out to do something positive and proactive about her future. She didn’t even care if she found a man before she turned thirty. The dating site was a way to look around. If nothing eventuated, no big deal.
And this awareness of her boss … Well, it would go away. He might be somewhat nice, but that didn’t change his corporate status. She would ignore her consciousness of him until it disappeared.
‘Yes.’ She was ready, under control and safe from the temptation of a corporate boss with power on her mind. Marissa clutched her pencil and hoped that was true!
CHAPTER TWO
RICK turned his car into the traffic and started to dictate. First came the report for Cartwright’s committee meeting. Then a bunch of short memos to be emailed to various department heads regarding the other projects he had visited this morning. Marissa’s pencil flew across the pages while she remained utterly conscious of his presence at her side.
In the confines of the big car she registered each breath and movement as he managed the congested traffic conditions with ease. Maybe joining a dating site had raised her overall awareness of men in a general sense?
That might explain this sudden inconvenient fixation on Rick.
He paused, glanced at her. ‘All right? Are you keeping up?’
‘Yes.’ She waved the hand with the pencil in it and didn’t let on for a moment that it ached somewhat from the thorough workout. ‘Gordon always dictates when we’re out on site work.’
Which had been all of three or four times since she’d started with her middle-aged boss six months ago, and Gordon always paused to ponder between each sentence.
‘Take this list down then, please.’ Rick went on to give a prioritised outline of workaday items—phone calls to be made, documentation to be lifted from files and information to be gathered from other departments within the company.
He had crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. They crinkled when he scrunched his face in thought or gave that slight smile, and made him look even better. Gorgeous, with character.
Whereas Marissa had spent over a hundred dollars on a miracle fine line facial cream last week, an action that had puzzled the younger of her Blinddatebrides friends Dani, and made Grace laugh, albeit rather wryly.
When Rick wound up his dictation, she gestured at the steno pad now crammed with instructions. ‘Someone’s going to be busy. There’s also a BlackBerry in the pack Tom gave me. Do you want me to read you the day’s list?’
In case he’d missed something in the estimated ten hours of straight work he’d just hammered out for whoever got the job of replacing Tom in his absence? She pitied those girls in the general pool on the first floor. Maybe he’d take two of them. Not her problem, in any case.
After this trip, Marissa would take her fine line wrinkles and go back to Gordon’s office.
Rick probably wouldn’t be in a good mood about the first floor help, though, given his last temp from there had booked an appointment for him to go out on a matter someone else should have handled.
‘Yes, check through and see what I’ve missed, would you?’ He signalled, slowed and turned and she realised with a start that they were back at their North Sydney office building. The city pulsed with busyness around them before he took the car underground, but she could only focus on his busyness.
Note to self about go-getter busyness, Marissa: it is not an endearing or invigorating trait.
She quickly pulled the electronic organiser from Tom’s travel pack in her tote. Scanned. Read. Tried not to acknowledge the burst of irrational disappointment that swept through her.
‘There’s a notation of “Julia” for twelve-thirty.’ He wouldn’t hear the slight uneven edge in her tone, would he? How silly to care that he was seeing someone. She should have realised that would be the case. It shouldn’t matter to her that he was! ‘That’s the only thing listed that you haven’t brought up.’
Of course the listing could be for any reason. Hairdresser appointment. An hour with his gym trainer. Or a pet schnauzer he walked faithfully once a day.
Dream on, Marissa.
‘Ah, yes.’ His face softened for a moment before he turned into his parking space and opened his door.
A go-getting corporate shark who had no business noticing the help if he was already involved. Probably with some sophisticated woman, maybe the daughter of a fellow businessman, or a corporate high-flyer herself. She’d be stunningly beautiful and her face cream would work like a charm, if she needed it at all.
You’re being ridiculous. He barely noticed you in passing and he certainly didn’t seem thrilled once he realised he had. Nor do you want to be thrilled or notice him.
Marissa released her seat belt, shoved the PDA back into her tote bag and drew out her work shoes.
With her head bent removing the joggers, she said in what she felt was a perfectly neutral tone, ‘Feel free to go on ahead. I can either stop by the first floor general pool for you and ask them to send someone up, or bring the PDA and my notes to whoever you’ve chosen to replace Tom. You can pre-lock this monster so I just have to shut the door, I assume?’
‘Thanks for the kind offer.’ Rick watched as Marissa Warren pushed a second trim foot into a shapely shoe. She had beautiful ankles. And legs. And a sweetness in her face that had tugged unexpectedly at something deep inside him from the moment he’d seen her up close for the first time this morning.
He’d noticed her in the office, of course. He noticed all the staff. As owner and manager, it was part of his job to remain aware about who worked for him, though the company was so big nowadays and employed so many people that he didn’t always have anything specific to do with some of the workers.
In any case Marissa was completely unsuitable as a woman he should notice, legs or not. He wasn’t prepared to risk commitment and the failure that could go with it, and he didn’t tangle with the kind of women who might want it. Marissa struck him as a woman who would want all sorts of pieces of a man that Rick might not have the ability to give. Not that he’d ever wanted to.
