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‘I beg your pardon?’
‘You heard me, Emily. I’m not buying it.’
‘How...how dare you?’
A tidal wave of pure red rushed through her head. The cool, aloof persona—the one that was her constant companion—vanished under the force of her anger. Anger that he had the nerve to think she was lying. Anger at the implied insult that she was just so dull, so boring, that it was inconceivable anyone might want to marry her. Anger that he just couldn’t believe she wasn’t one of those simpering girls who would not have been able to resist the compulsion to blab to her boss about a fiancé in the wings.
The sheer arrogance of the man was unbelievable. But why did that come as any great surprise? Hadn’t she witnessed first-hand just how arrogant he was in his dealings with women? Hadn’t she seen for herself how he treated them? Like playthings to be picked up and then dumped the second their novelty value wore off.
Memories of the past and her own experiences of someone with that same lethal power to destroy hurtled towards her like a rocket with deadly cargo, and she deflected its impact with a little less than her usual practised ease.
‘How dare I what?’
‘How dare you presume to know anything about me?’ Emily bristled. ‘Just because I haven’t mentioned my private life, it does not give you the right to assume that nothing goes on in it!’
‘I’m curious as to the whereabouts of this fiancé of yours when we have spent hours working until all hours of the night—which, incidentally, wasn’t that long ago. In fact...if my memory serves me right...three weeks ago we had a run of several Chinese takeout nights when that Dutch deal was on the verge of completion. I can’t imagine any testosterone-fuelled young man wanting his woman cooped up with her boss into the early hours of the morning... Or maybe those late lie-ins I gave you made up for the inconvenience...?’
He appeared to give this some thought and then shook his head slowly, his dark eyes fixed on her face all the time as his curiosity bloomed into a driving, unstoppable need to know more.
‘No...’ he drawled. ‘You’ve never had any problem with unsocial hours. That would have featured on the menu had this fiancé been on the scene. So...how long has it been going on?’
‘That’s none of your business,’ Emily said through stiff lips.
‘I’m making it my business,’ he responded coolly, ‘in light of the fact that it appears to be influencing your ability to do your job.’
‘It’s not influencing anything...’
‘You’ve already informed me that you have a problem accompanying me to the Caribbean to oversee the end of this project. I’d term that as influencing your ability to do your job... Look, Emily...’ He sighed and raked his fingers through his dark hair. ‘We’ve been working together for almost two years. We’ve had an excellent working partnership—aside, of course, from your simmering resentment about the way I conduct my love-life...’
And where, he wondered, had that come from? Poor experiences in the past with some guy who broke her heart?
‘Is it just so damned inconceivable that I might have a passing interest in something as groundbreaking as your engagement? Forget the fact that you’re going to leave me in the lurch...’
‘I have no intention of leaving you in the lurch. I shall make sure I find a suitable replacement.’
He noticed the way she had clumsily tried to evade his question. Fascinating.
‘Leaving that aside for the moment, how long have you been going out with this mystery man? What’s his name, anyway?’
‘Are these questions still in line with the fact that you’re not buying what I’ve told you?’
‘I’m mystified by the lack of an engagement ring on your finger,’ Leandro said mildly. ‘Perhaps you took it off this morning when you were washing the dishes, but I feel certain I would have remembered seeing it before...’
‘I’m not a great believer in engagement rings,’ Emily mumbled uncomfortably.
‘And yet there must be romance and passion there if you don’t feel comfortable travelling with me for a fortnight to wrap this hotel business up...’
He had never seen her like this before. Her hectic colour brought a liveliness to her face that was captivating. She looked like a different woman. Still beautiful, but animated now, no longer with that impassive mask designed to keep the world at arm’s length.
He had never been into blondes, but interest was kicking in. He wondered whether that was because the lines between their professional relationship and the personal were beginning to blur. Hell, what an inappropriate reaction! The woman had just announced that she was about to tie the knot with some guy and here he was, assessing her in ways he had never done before and allowing his imagination to break its leash and take up residence in entirely unacceptable fantasies that involved him getting down and personal with this new, intriguing creature squirming in front of him.
‘His name is Oliver,’ Emily admitted reluctantly, steering the conversation away from all talk about romance and passion.
The mere notion of those foreign emotions was enough to make her lips curl with cynicism. Romance? Passion? Why not throw love into the mix while he was about it?
Leandro detected the shadow that crossed her face, the way her full lips tightened fractionally. He had never really known what was going on in his secretary’s head and he wondered idly whether she knew just how much of a challenging gauntlet she was throwing down in her evasiveness.
For someone like him—someone to whom women had always been prepared to bare their souls, whatever his response, indeed, who would have been prepared to do anything to net his interest—her obvious reluctance to divulge even the most innocuous of facts about her situation was a compelling reason for him to keep pushing.
Thinking about his varied and changeable love-life made him distractedly recall that fleeting, gone-in-a-heartbeat expression that had crossed her face at the mention of romance and...what else was it he had said...? Passion.
Was this mysterious fiancé less an object of passion than a...a last resort guy? Underneath that controlled exterior, was she just plain scared of ending up on the shelf? Or maybe some experience of someone who hurt her had left her wary of romance? Was that it?
The questions raced through his head and he didn’t bother to fight his curiosity in chasing answers.
A fortnight in the Caribbean, aside from allowing him to be personally on hand to make sure the project was launched smoothly, promised to be an interesting experience.
‘Oliver... Oliver what...?’
‘You wouldn’t have heard of him.’
‘The expression pulling teeth springs to mind...’
‘Camp,’ Emily said through gritted teeth. ‘His name is Oliver Camp.’
‘And Oliver Camp would object to your accompanying me on a business trip, would he?’
‘I’ll come.’
Arrangements might have to be put back a few weeks, but in the long run that would make little difference. They were both keen to tie the knot and get the whole thing over and done with, but sometimes Fate threw a spanner in the works, and in this instance the spanner came in the form of a very large, very muscular and hellishly dynamic guy who effectively had her in his pocket.
At any rate, arguing with him would, in the end, be counter-productive. She had never known him to give anything up without a fight—and a winning fight at that.
‘Wonderful news! So glad you’ve come round to the idea...’
He glanced at his watch and stood up, and Emily reluctantly found herself surreptitiously following the economical fluid movement of his long body. She seemed to have stored up remembered images of him, so that she felt almost familiar with the sight of his strong forearms sprinkled with dark hair, the way he unrolled the sleeves of his white shirt, the length of his fingers...
It alarmed her, and she looked away hurriedly and followed suit, standing up as well.
‘I trust you’ll make all the necessary arrangements first thing in the morning?’ He strolled towards the door and slipped on his jacket.
‘Are you leaving work already?’ Emily directed the question to his broad back and he looked at her over his shoulder.
‘So it would appear.’
He never left work before seven. Even when his diary was free of all meetings or conference calls, as she knew it was now.
‘How come?’ she found herself asking, and instantly regretted her impulsive question.
What on earth was wrong with her? Had some crazy recklessness been unleashed inside her? Was it all downhill from here on in? She had another month of his company! Was she going to work that month trying to put a brake on whatever nonsense her mouth decided to come out with? All her reserve seemed to be unravelling.
‘Come again?’ His dark eyes roved over her flushed face and he raised his eyebrows.
‘I apologise. Of course it’s none of my business when you decide to leave the office. I just thought... I wondered... You usually take the opportunity to consolidate stuff after normal working hours when the phones aren’t ringing quite so much...’
Leandro turned fully to face her and leant indolently against the wall. ‘You’re flustered.’
Was that designed to make her feel even more hot and bothered? If so, it worked. She could feel heat tingling in her cheeks. ‘I’m not at all flustered,’ she lied. ‘I’m merely...merely...’
‘Demonstrating a perfectly natural human curiosity as to an alteration in my usual routine?’
‘It’s...’
‘Absolutely none of your business.’ Leandro shrewdly nailed what she had been about to say again—that the time he chose to walk out of his office was not a matter she was entitled to question. ‘However, as you appear to be in such a rush to leave...for whatever “stuff” you claim you have to do...’ He invited a response to this prompt and was unsurprised when none was forthcoming. He shrugged. ‘I thought I’d call it a day. At any rate, there are things I need to do if I’m to be out of the country for a couple of weeks...’
Emily lowered her eyes. He was currently without a woman. She had dispatched the last hapless member of his harem several weeks previously. The poor woman had not had a very long run, although in fairness her brief appearance in his life had certainly been an expensive one, and she had left the better for several expensive items of jewellery and a red moped which she’d claimed matched her preferred choice of nail colour and was essential for getting around London.
So was there another waiting in the wings? She felt the familiar antipathy towards his life choices rise up into her throat like bile. She knew she shouldn’t. People lived their lives the way they chose to live them, and she should be indifferent and non-judgemental, and yet...
Leandro continued to look at her. He felt as though he were seeing her in 3D for the very first time. At least partially in 3D. Certainly he realised that her pose was very familiar to him, although it had always been one to which he had paid next to no attention. Whenever he had casually asked her to buy a parting gift for a woman she had always lowered her eyes in very much the same way as she was doing now. Her mouth would purse and she would comply with whatever he asked without complaint, but, yes...in the light of what she had told him about her views on his love-life...
Disapproval was stamped on her face. It was running through her head that he was leaving early because he had a hot date with a woman. Leandro decided that he would give her all the freedom she wanted to imagine what she clearly considered the worst interpretation.
‘Right. I’ll see you in the morning, Emily. And...’ He paused, just in case she thought that she might disappear without a backward glance and leave him high and dry. ‘Don’t even consider doing a vanishing act, because if you do I’ll pursue you to the ends of the earth and take you to court for breach of contract. I’ve been an exemplary employer and I expect exemplary service in return—even if it’s only for the duration of a month. Understood?’
‘I wouldn’t dream of vanishing.’ But there would be some loose ends to tie up before she went away with him.
On her way back to the tiny bedsit she rented in South London, she contemplated those loose ends and was frustrated to discover that her mind wasn’t completely on the task at hand.
In fact her wayward thoughts insisted on disappearing around corners, streaking off down blind alleys and generally refusing to be tied down. After that conversation with Leandro, which was not one she had predicted, she found that she couldn’t quite get the man out of her head.
She unlocked her front door and realised that she didn’t quite know where the commute had gone, because she had been so busy playing over that encounter in her head.
Now, looking around her ridiculously small bedsit, she grounded her thoughts by reminding herself that once this matter had been sorted, once this marriage was out of the way, she would no longer have to live in a place that was, frankly, a dump. The paint on the walls was peeling, there were signs of rising damp, and the heating system was so rudimentary that it was preferable to leave it off in winter and just make do with portable heaters.
She wondered what Leandro would think if he were ever to stray accidentally into this part of the world and into her cramped living quarters.
He would be horrified. On the salary she was paid she should have been able to afford somewhere more than halfway decent in a good part of London. But after her money was spent there was precious little left for life’s small indulgences, such as passably comfortable living quarters...
She got on the phone to Oliver before she could begin to wind down, and he picked up on the second ring.
There would be a slight delay in their plans, she told him, and sighed wearily. She perched on the chair in the hall. It was so uncomfortable that she felt her landlord must have redirected it to the house when it had been on its way to the skip to be disposed of, because that was all it was good for.
In her head, she pictured Oliver. The same height as her, fair hair, blue eyes—hardly changed at all from the boy of fifteen she had once dated for the laughably short period of three months, before exam fever had consumed her and before he and his family had sold their mansion and disappeared off to America. They had kept in touch sporadically, but even that had faded after his parents had died in an accident ten years previously.
‘What sort of delay?’
She explained. Two weeks away, and then she would be back and they could progress. She knew that it was a delay barely worth writing home about, but she was desperate to get this whole thing wrapped up—although she made sure to keep that desperation out of her voice.
She spent the rest of the evening in a state of mild panic. Two weeks abroad with Leandro. Two weeks in the sun. Sunshine was synonymous with holidays, with relaxing, and yet she would be on tenterhooks the whole time, guarding herself against...
Against what...?
As she continued to tie up her loose ends—loose ends that needed to be securely tied up before she left—her mind continued to play with that suddenly persistent question.
Guarding against what...?
Unbidden, thoughts of Leandro floated past her walls of resistance, lodged themselves in her head. Thoughts of how he looked, the way he had stared at her with those dark, semi-slumbrous eyes, the soft, silky angle of his questions, the way their conversation had dipped into murky uncharted territory...
There had been no mention of what sort of clothes she should take. She vaguely knew the layout of the resort—knew that it comprised individual cabanas on the beach: sweet little one and two-bedroom huts that looked as though they had been there for time immemorial but which in fact were equipped to the highest possible standard and had only been standing for six months tops.
They formed a charming cluster in front of the main hotel, which itself was small and likewise very organically designed. There was a pool which mimicked a waterfall, plunging into a quirkily laid out lake, but each of the cabanas came with its own plunge pool anyway.
It was the height of luxury and, like it or not, she was not going to be able to pull off her usual uniform of starchy suits and sensible court shoes.
Swimsuits, shorts, sundresses. The sort of clothes she didn’t possess. And she had neither the time nor the inclination to go out on a shopping spree.
* * *
The prospect of facing him the following morning was not a pleasant one, and she made sure to arrive, yet again, shortly before nine. If he interpreted that as some sort of restrained rebellion then so be it.
In fact she arrived to find a message on her desk telling her that he would be out for the day. Judging from the list of instructions for her, it seemed that he had hit the office even earlier than he normally did.
And the number one instruction was for her to sort out flights to the island. As if she were in any danger of forgetting it!
By five Emily was drained, and she was getting ready to leave when the phone rang and she was accosted by the dark timbre of his disembodied voice down the line.
How had she spent so long never being affected by that? How was it that his voice had never made her toes curl the way it was doing now?
In the act of putting on her jacket, she literally had to sit down and control her breathing as he demanded a debrief on the various things he had asked her to do. Had she sent those emails to the Hong Kong subsidiary of the electronics plant he was taking over...? Had she seen the response from the Briggs lawyers...? The Glasgow arm of his telecommunications outfit needed confirmation of price bands for new contracts and—could she make sure to hard copy all the relevant data by the morning...? And, last but not least, had she booked their flights.
* * *
Leandro relaxed back in his chauffeur-driven car. He had spent the day in a buoyant mood. He had one more company under his belt after some hard bargaining, and the following day...
Underneath his annoyance and frank bewilderment at Emily’s decision to resign, his shock at the reason she had given and the uncomfortable sense of betrayal at her short notice and lack of forewarning, there was a tug of intense satisfaction at the prospect of them travelling to the Caribbean.
He had spent a lot of the day thinking of her. He had played over in his mind the conversation they had had, the changing expressions on her face. She had been...shifty. She had answered his questions when pushed, but he had been left with the feeling that her answers only skimmed the surface.
The fact that satisfying his curiosity would ultimately have no bearing on her departure was an irrelevance as far as Leandro was concerned. He got a kick just thinking about travelling down an unpredictable path for once when it came to the opposite sex.
Was he becoming jaded? It was a question he had never asked himself. He was thirty-two years old, in his prime, and he enjoyed a wide-ranging and satisfying love-life. Or so he had always imagined. Now he wondered whether it was quite as satisfying as he’d thought if he could find himself so taken over by the pleasurable novelty of discovering this untapped side of his secretary.
The last woman he had dated had faded from the scene three weeks previously and here he was, becoming fixated by this new vision of Emily Edison—an Emily Edison who was suddenly so much more than the sum total of her parts.
Hell, he had been fantasising about her! Wasn’t that a little bizarre?
Had he reached a stage where novelty was so compelling? He had nothing against marriage, per se. He assumed he would marry eventually. Someone suitable. Someone from an equally wealthy background. He had had a narrow and salutary escape years ago, from a woman who had played the hard to get game to perfection. She had teased him for just the right length of time, convinced him of her shyness and her indifference to his money... Her real agenda had been uncovered only because he had happened to overhear a conversation she’d had on the phone to her mother...
