Bella Bucannon – A Bride For The Brooding Boss (страница 7)
‘And he remembered the girl who worked here, though not her name.’
‘He would.’ The bitterness in his voice shook her and she jerked back, receiving a half-smile in apology as he continued.
‘I was told her departure a few months ago was acrimonious to say the least. There were others who left because of his behaviour too, but replacements have to wait until you succeed and we sort everything out.’
She’d go and new staff would come. There’d be another woman at her desk, chosen by him...what was she thinking? This was not a valid reason to be depressed. Did he prefer blondes or brunettes?
Must. Stop. Thinking like this.
She snapped herself out of it and went to stand. ‘On that note, I’d better get back to my task.’
He stood, and held out his hand to help her. The warmth from his touch spread up her arm, radiating to every part of her. She doubted even ice-cold water would cool her down. She prayed he couldn’t detect her tremor and didn’t demur as he kept hold.
‘I am truly grateful, Lauren. I owe you big time and I never forget a debt.’
The message in his smouldering dark blue eyes painted a graphic picture of the form his gratitude might take, scrambling every coherent thought in her brain. Her throat dried, butterflies stirred in her stomach and it felt as if fluttering wings were brushing against every cell on her skin.
His grip tightened. Her lips parted. He leant closer.
The phone on his desk shattered the moment, and he glowered at it as he moved back, and reluctantly released her. She caught the arm of the chair to avoid collapsing into it.
His rasping, ‘We’ll talk again later,’ proved she wasn’t the only one affected.
As he picked up the handset he added, ‘Alan’s my cousin, family.’
The instant he answered the call he was in corporate mode. That irked because she needed time to compose herself, cool her skin, but he clearly didn’t. When she returned from the ensuite, he was leaning on his desk, phone to his ear, watching for her. His engaging smile and quick but thorough appraisal from her face to her feet and back threatened to undo her freshen up. Not so calm and composed after all, just better at covering it up.
* * *
Lauren closed down early, allowing time for the ride to the airport, loath to suspend her search for four days. She had an inkling of an idea she’d heard somewhere but couldn’t remember where or when. There’d be plenty of time to dwell on it in Melbourne.
Collecting her luggage, she took her report to Matt, whose stunned face and glance at his watch proved he’d forgotten her early departure.
‘That late already? Have you ordered a taxi?’
‘I’ll be fine. I’ve noticed they always seem to be driving past.’
He grinned. ‘Unless you need one. I’ll finish this page and drive you.’
‘There’s no—’
‘Humour me.’
* * *
Lauren’s knowledge of cars was limited—there wasn’t a necessity to own one in Sydney—but she recognised the Holden emblem on the grill. Matt’s quiet assurance as he eased into the traffic didn’t surprise her.
‘Did you drive in Europe?’
‘Yes, rarely in London, a lot through the country. Nowhere is too far if you can put up with dense traffic and miles of freeways. So different from Australia. Driving in Paris was a unique experience. Have you travelled?’
‘A week in Bali with friends two years ago. We’re planning a trip for this year if we can decide on a destination.’
She was aware of him glancing at her, but she kept her focus on the road where his should be.
‘You mentioned family in Melbourne. Do you visit often?’
‘Three or four times a year. This is my niece’s first Easter.’
Matt willed her to look his way. She didn’t. The ten-to-fifteen-minute drive in heavy traffic was hardly conducive to a meaningful discussion. That would have to wait until she returned.
‘Why did you move to Sydney?’ Why did he want to know? Why the long silent pause as she considered his question?
‘Why did you go to London?’
Because I couldn’t stand the sight of my parents feigning a happy marriage when it was a complete sham.
Because even moving into a rented house with friends in another suburb hadn’t given him sufficient distance.
‘Rite of passage to fly the nest and try to climb the corporate ladder without favour from associates of my father.’
‘And you succeeded. It’ll all be waiting for you when you’ve got Dalton Corporation back on track. Your family must be glad to have you home even under sad circumstances. I’m sure they’ve missed you.’
Matt picked up on the nuance in her voice, but didn’t respond as he flicked on his indicator and turned into the airport road. So she had an issue with family as well. She’d rather not go.
He pulled into a clear space at the drop-off zone and switched off the engine. Before he had a chance to walk round and assist her, Lauren had unlatched her seat belt and jumped out.
He wiped his hand across his jaw, fighting the urge to reassure her, feeling he’d left so much unsaid today. He’d make time when she came back. She was coming back, and that pleased him.
She let him lift her luggage from the boot, and seemed reluctant to say goodbye.
‘Thank you for the lift, Mr Dalton. I’ll see you on Tuesday.’
‘My pleasure. Enjoy your long weekend.’
I don’t understand why, but I’ll miss you.
DRIVING BACK, MATT felt like laughing out loud at the incongruity of the situation. They could have spent time together during the four-day break, working alone, sharing lunches, maybe even dinner. Learning more about each other. Instead they’d be in different states paying lip service to family traditions.
With a complete turnaround, he wondered what the hell he was thinking. This was insane. Lauren Taylor was a temporary employee. Not his type at all. Yet he’d been so close to kissing her today in the office. The action and location were both bad ideas. So why did he wish that call hadn’t come at that moment?
And how the hell had she managed to avoid answering his question?
* * *
Lauren closed her novel, and stared at the landscape rushing by then disappearing as the plane gained height. How could she concentrate on spine-thrilling action when her mind was in turmoil because of a man? She had male friends, a few of them treasured and platonic with whom she felt completely comfortable and totally at ease.
There were none who made her forget to breathe, who created fire in her core and sent her pulse into an erratic drumbeat. The thought of the magic those now skilful lips might evoke had her quivering with anticipation, earning her an anxious mutter from the older woman in the adjacent seat.
She gave her a reassuring smile, and turned back to the window. The fantasies she’d concocted for the last ten years had been childish daydreams based on teenage romance. The two relationships she’d drifted into had been more from affable proximity than passion. That they’d remained friends to this day proved how little anyone’s heart had been involved.
No way would any woman accept friendship after an affair with Matt Dalton. His touch created electrical fissions on her skin, turned her veins into a racecourse and curled her toes. If they ever made it to the bedroom... She gulped in air, imagining the tanned, hot muscles he hid under expensive executive shirts.
‘Are you sure you’re okay?’
Her head swung round to meet a concerned gaze.
‘Yes, thank you. I’m fine.’
Opening her book, she pretended to read, flipped pages and didn’t take in a solitary word.
* * *
Late on Saturday night Lauren curled into the pillows in the guest bedroom, wondering what Matt was doing. She almost wished she’d gone with her parents and the grandchildren to visit friends. Her brothers were having the inevitable barbecue in the back garden.
She’d spent a great day with friends from university, who had insisted on driving her home, dropping her off at the corner because of all the cars parked in the street. Deciding to try to be more sociable, she’d attempted to join in with her brothers’ party.
She’d lasted ten minutes among the raucous crowd, with whom she had little in common, then she’d finished her sausage sandwich, drained the soft drink can and said goodnight. A chorus of, ‘Night, little sister!’ had followed her into the house, most of it slurred.
She’d gone slowly up the stairs, reappraising her attitude to her upbringing. Had she been the one to pull away, uneasy with the openness of the rest of her family? Had she taken their leave-her-in-peace approach for indifference?
Not understanding why she’d begun to analyse her relationships, she’d shaken it away. She had a good life, a great job and supportive friends. Maybe she’d talk it through with them when she went home.
Putting on headphones and turning her music up loud, she’d logged into her computer and accessed her favourite game, which necessitated super concentration, blocking everything else out.
Now it was quiet except for an occasional passing vehicle. Was Matt asleep? Did he live alone or with his parents? Did he have siblings? There were so many questions that might never be answered.