Three Blind-Date Brides: Nine-to-Five Bride

CHAPTER SIX

From: Englishcrumpet

Just let Tony down gently.

From: Sanfrandani

Better to tell the man so he knows where he stands.

From: Kangagirl

I know you’re both right. I don’t want to hurt his feelings, that’s all. Tony is a really nice guy. Maybe I shouldn’t have met with him twice so close together. We had lunch the day after I found my boss giving his niece a swimming lesson on the top floor of our work building, and then we had dinner tonight. If I’d given myself more time between …

From: Englishcrumpet

Do you really think seeing Tony this Saturday or next would have made any difference? What exactly did you say was wrong with him, anyway?

From: Sanfrandani

No spark, wasn’t it?

From: Kangagirl

Yes, and that’s enough about me and my evening. Tell me about your dating efforts.

‘This is a very tall building.’ The words passed through Marissa’s lips despite herself as they travelled up the outside of the building-in-progress in a cage lift.

It was Monday morning. She’d survived the disappointment of yet again finding ‘no spark’ during that second date with Tony, had also survived an entire week of working for Rick Morgan.

Had survived by the skin of her self-control, actually, and, really scarily tall buildings should be the least of her concerns.

For the real challenge, try genuinely not noticing the boss who’d taken her to the scary tall building in the first place, rather than merely pretending not to notice him. He superimposed himself on the Blinddatebrides men’s profile pictures when she viewed them, took over her brain space during her dating efforts. Marissa felt a spark all right—towards completely the wrong man!

Her fingers tightened their death grip on the handrail inside the cage. ‘And the lift is very fast.’

Dizzyingly so now she’d made the mistake of watching things whizz past. She’d thought that might save her from looking at Rick.

‘We’re quite secure, despite the fact you can see everything around you.’ He took her elbow to help her off as the lift stopped. Held on while she came to terms with the height. Held on and her skin tingled while his expression deepened because of their nearness. ‘Don’t worry.’ His voice seemed to come from deep in his chest as he placed his body between hers and the outside of the construction so she only saw him. ‘I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.’

She’d been half okay until he said that. Now she had to add chivalry to his list of attributes.

‘Thank you, but I’m sure I’ll be quite fine now.’ She forced herself to step away from him, did her best to ignore the ache that doing so left behind.

Rick’s hand dropped slowly to his side as though he too hadn’t been ready to lose that contact.

Had touching her jolted him the same way? The answer was in the lock of his muscles, the tightness of his jaw and the way his lids lowered as his gaze drifted from her eyes to her mouth.

Then suddenly he turned to greet the site manager and the construction boss led them over every inch of the building.

Marissa composed herself and gave the tour her determined attention. This was a genuine meeting, the kind that should happen, not the sort where a man went on about turning a bridge into something completely made-over when that simply wasn’t possible.

She took pages of notes of specifications that Rick would expect her to incorporate when he worked on his department memos after the visit and decided she was okay with this. She had it all under control now. All she needed to do was keep her attention on her work, not look at her boss any more than she had to and not think about him at all.

Yes. And that worked really well when they were in constant communication at point blank range, didn’t it?

‘Overall, the project looks good at this stage.’ Rick nodded his approval as they finished their discussion at ground level almost an hour later.

‘I’m happy enough with things so far.’ The site boss pushed his hard hat back off his head. ‘But we have two more days of work, maximum, before we need that shipment of materials from the Melbourne supplier. If we don’t get it by then, we’re stalled and that’s going to cost us in time and wages.’

‘And you think the reason for the delay is related to underlying union issues at their end?’ Rick nodded. ‘Let me look into this. I’ll see if I can get things moving for you. Do you have a copy of the order?’

‘Right here.’ The site boss removed it from his clipboard.

Rick took it, glanced at it and passed it to Marissa. ‘At least you won’t have to note all this down.’

Their fingers brushed. His words brushed across her senses at the same time. Just words, but his gaze searched her face, took her in as though he didn’t realise he was doing it. As though he couldn’t stop himself from doing it.

‘I hope we can get back to the office soon.’ She needed the security of her desk and at least some semblance of routine. She needed Tom to get better fast and come back to work so she could hide in Gordon’s office.

More than that, she needed to stamp the words ‘dating website’ on her forehead so she remembered what she was supposed to be doing.

Not supposed to. Wanted to. Must do. Was doing! ‘So I can get to work on this transcribing.’

They made their way back to work with Rick dictating on the way. Once at the office, Marissa worked on his department memos and, because they were so pushed for time, they ate lunch at their desks. The busy afternoon that followed shouldn’t have allowed time to feel anything but the strain of hours of hard work, and yet she felt a great deal of other strain.

Marissa wished that strain away as she made yet another phone call for her boss. ‘This is Marissa Warren. I’m filling in as Rick Morgan’s secretary and need you to supply me with a list of names of all the people who’ve worked on the Chartrel project.’ She clasped the phone against her ear and smelled Rick’s scent on it from when he’d taken a call at her desk minutes earlier.

Marissa closed her eyes and inhaled before she could stop herself. When she lifted her lids again, Rick’s gaze rested on her from the other room, deep grey eyes honed on her.

She forced her attention back to her work, buried herself in it. Maybe she should never emerge again. That might fix things. When Rick came to her desk an hour later, she knew it hadn’t fixed anything at all.

‘I need you to take these to the departments personally, Marissa.’ He held out several signed memos. ‘I know we’re busy, but I want you to wait for their responses.’

‘All right.’ She agreed without hesitation. Eager to please him. No. She wasn’t overly compliant or willing to go the extra mile. She certainly didn’t think they were equals in this and would both be rewarded at the end. The roles were clear. Hers and his. This wasn’t the same as the past.

Rick wasn’t using her to try to make himself look bigger or better.

Maybe not, but he was still using her in his own way. He’d swept her into working for him without giving her a choice.

Your employment contract states: ‘and other duties as required’. He didn’t ask you to do anything you’re not obliged to do.

Fine. The man had every right to commandeer her. He was still too similar to Michael—all business orientation and focused on his work goals. Marissa held the thought up like a shield, and added another. She wanted to find a safe man, an ordinary man, and yes, okay, maybe she did want to get married and fulfil the promise of the Blinddatebrides.com website.

She was almost thirty. Surely a desire for genuine commitment was acceptable at that age? Her mother had been married a decade by then, with a child—what if Marissa could only have one baby, like Mum had?

Didn’t it make sense that Marissa might be thinking of getting started on that? That was nothing more than a logistics thing.

She wheeled about. ‘When I get back, I’ll do something about the explosion out here that was once my … that is … Tom’s desk.’

Not her desk.

Tom’s desk.

Tom’s chair.

She was keeping it all warm for Tom and nothing more. On this fortifying reminder, she left. Graciously and calmly, as befitted someone totally in control of her life, her hopes, her dreams and herself.

By the middle of the afternoon it was raining—a drenching fall that obscured the skyline and turned the water in the harbour choppy. Marissa stared at the dismal view before she turned back to the photocopier.

‘Deep breath,’ she muttered. This was an irritation, after all, not a major problem. She eased open the three side doors on the machine, the one at the back, and pulled out both paper drawers and hit the spring catch on the feed cover so she could see in there as well.

Paper jams happened and, yes, there would now be pages missing from the report and she’d have to figure out what she’d lost, but that was fine.

The printer had needed a new ink cartridge an hour ago. One of the computer applications had quit mid-keystroke and she’d lost a few minutes of work. The phone continued to ring hot and there’d been more people from other departments through the door today than in the entirety of last week. She had enough typing sitting on her desk to take her the rest of the day by itself.

Rick was also busy. He was deep in phone talks about some crisis or another right now and it was clear from the content of the several tapes he’d asked her to work on ‘urgently’ that he was handling the equivalent of photocopier breakdown times about a thousand from his desk.

The corporate shark was doing his thing with a great deal of style today, controlling his world, working through problems, making it all come together despite the difficulties and … thriving on it and being cheerful about it as he went along. Marissa did not find this at all stimulating, and it did not show her a different side of her boss, making it exponentially more difficult for her to keep viewing him as a corporate danger zone.

‘Let’s go. We’re finished with this for today.’ The day had felt interminable to Rick. From that trip up the building construction, when he’d wanted to protect Marissa, keep her safe, never let anything happen to her, through the rainy afternoon and on into this evening, Rick had struggled with his attraction to her.

She was amazing, the way she got down to work without a word of complaint, no matter what was thrown at her. And he … found that too appealing about her.

Maybe that explained this current madness, because not only was he determined to take her out of the office and feed her, he had no intention of letting her refuse. He took her bag from the desk drawer and pressed it into her hands, and drew her out of her chair.

Well, it was no big deal. Marissa deserved a reward for working so hard. As her boss, he wanted to give her that reward. He’d done the same for Tom countless times.

But this wasn’t Tom and, the moment Rick touched Marissa, desire buzzed through his system and threatened to overwhelm him. Well, he would control that desire by the force of his will—maybe he needed to show himself he could do that.

‘Wait. What are you doing? I have work up on the computer and I’m nowhere near finished.’ She dug her shoes into the carpet, her eyes wide and startled as surprise and uncertainty and the same fire he fought in his bloodstream all bloomed in her gaze.

‘We’re going to eat and then go to our respective homes to get some rest.’ That sounded suitably businesslike. A pity he ruined it by adding, ‘The office can wait until tomorrow.’

Not only had he not intended to downplay the importance of his work, but his voice had mellowed as his gaze roved over her, over the hair sticking out from the times she’d whipped the transcription headset on and off, and bent over the photocopier cursing.

She had trousers on today. Pale tan trousers and a black cashmere top that hugged her curves, and soft leather lace-up shoes she hadn’t needed to change for their fieldwork.

Though the clothing screamed ‘comfortable’ and ‘sensible’ it also lovingly displayed every curve. He’d believed himself beyond reacting to those curves now.

Fooled yourself, you mean.

Well, it was too late to back out of this dinner now. Instead, he scooped everything on her desk into the tray and locked it away while she gasped. Then he shut down her computer and hustled her to the door.

‘We’re eating.’ As colleagues. An hour in her company outside of working hours might take care of his inexplicable interest in her in any case. What did he know of her, after all, personally? She might bore him to tears. He might do the same to her. ‘Don’t argue. There are shadows under your eyes. And if there’s too much work for you we’ll farm some out to the general staff.’

This was not an option that had ever occurred to him before. That it did now shocked him into a silence that lasted the entire ride in the lift to the underground parking area.

As he helped her into his big car, she spoke.

‘I’m not overwhelmed by the workload and it’s kind of you to want to feed me but I assure you I’m not faint or anything.’ She turned her head to face him. ‘I’ve taken care to eat snacks regularly since that incident the first day.’

‘I know.’ He’d been watching, had checked on her though she wouldn’t have realised he was doing it. And, because that knowledge of himself made him feel exposed, he reiterated, ‘This is not a kindness. It’s a reward for efforts rendered, for both of us, that’s all. And I’m pleased to hear it about the workload because, in truth, I don’t really like the idea of handing work out of my office.’

They passed the rest of the trip in silence. He figured it was just as well since the words coming out of his mouth didn’t seem to be much under his control.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Rick settled Marissa at the table in the same way he seemed to manage everything. With care and courtesy and without any hint of being the user and taker Michael Unsworth was.

‘Thank you.’ How could Marissa keep up her shield against her boss when he behaved this way? Right now she didn’t want to, and that was a dangerous attitude. ‘I’ve finally managed to take a breath for the first time today. I guess … I’m glad you thought of this, of us catching a quick meal on the way home.’

Marissa toyed with her water glass and tried not to think how nice it was to be seated opposite Rick in the tiny restaurant tucked away in a side street only about a ten minute drive from his offices.

Bilbie’s @ Eighty-Eight sported just a handful of dining tables, spaced far apart and lit individually with a fat red candle on a chipped saucer in the centre of each.

Rain stung the darkened windows and the street lights and car headlights blurred out there, but inside all was quiet and calm.

Well, except for the tension she felt as she finally lifted her gaze and looked into Rick’s eyes. Because it was a tension that had nothing to do with residual work stresses, that had an intimacy to it that just wouldn’t seem to leave them.

Despite Rick’s assertion this was nothing more than a reward for hard work. Despite her need to be attracted to someone other than him.

The latter wasn’t working out very well right now.

So why hadn’t she declined this meal with him?

Good manners. It might have seemed churlish if she’d refused.

Sure, Marissa. That’s what it is.

Rick tore a piece of dense crusty bread from the loaf and dipped it in the herbed dressing and held it out to her. ‘It would take as long for you to go home and prepare something for your dinner.’

‘Thank you. I didn’t realise what I was missing. Here. With this restaurant. It’s … a nice setting. You know, for colleagues to visit briefly on a one-off basis. I don’t find it romantic at all. I’m sure you don’t either. Overall, I’d say the place is homely.’ She popped the bread in her mouth before she could say anything else.

The taste and texture of the food enticed a soft sigh from her. The sight of his intent expression as he watched her did the same again. ‘The bread … the … er … the bread is delicious.’

‘The décor could do with a facelift.’ In the candlelight the grey of his eyes darkened as his gaze focused on her. His lashes cast shadows over the strong slash of his cheeks. ‘I don’t particularly like the colour red either. I prefer autumn tones, like your—’ He frowned. ‘Like the season.’

Like her hair and the clothing she chose to wear most often? Marissa felt warmed despite herself.

Was she so foolish that she couldn’t avoid falling for this kind of man again? For her ex-fiancé’s kind of man? Because Rick was corporate to the core. He wouldn’t care about building a family or doing any of the things she wanted …

‘Feta on warm salad.’ A waiter deposited the entrées and whisked a bottle of white wine forward, poured and left the rest of the bottle on the table. Disappeared again.

Rick drew a deep breath. ‘Eat.’ He gestured to the food, lifted his fork and seemed determined to back the tension off. Back it right off and keep it backed off.

Marissa wanted that too. To assist in that endeavour, she said a little desperately, ‘You said you’re a skilled diver. Is that something you’ve done for long?’

Small talk. Surely if she smothered them in small talk it would have the desired effect?

‘I started diving in my twenties after my sister Darla … For leisure.’ He sipped his wine and something in his face seemed to close up. ‘I’ve dived coastal reefs and other places but nowadays I mostly work locally on some endangered species projects.’

‘Your niece really is in good hands with her swimming lessons, then.’ A flash of that day, of him bare-chested and off-centre as he’d made up excuses for those swimming lessons, did something warm and tingly to her insides. It softened her emotions and made it difficult to remember him as the highflying boss, a man very much out of her emotional league.

‘Your family—’

‘I’d rather hear about you.’ He didn’t bark the words, but the closed door was clear just the same. ‘About your interests. We probably don’t have a lot in common.’

No. They probably didn’t, and she should appreciate that he wanted them both to accept that.

Rick let his gaze slide to his hands for a moment as he asked, ‘So. What are your hobbies?’

What hadn’t she tried might be easier to answer. But here was her chance to bore him rigid.

Marissa realised they’d eaten their way through the food and she hadn’t even noticed. Well, she was focused now.

‘I’ve tried motorcycle riding. I was eighteen and had a boyfriend at the Milberry further education college that year. He had tattoos and really long hair.’ Was that enough boredom factor? ‘I also tried my hand as a jillaroo on an outback station for twelve months but I guess that’s a career, not a hobby. Does it count as a hobby if you just tested it out to see how it fit?’

She’d missed her parents a lot during that twelve months. And she was fighting to try to be boring. This wasn’t supposed to be a cheerful reminiscence session.

His eyes gleamed with interest that he probably didn’t want to feel either. ‘I can’t imagine you roping calves or whatever girl station hands do.’

Maybe if she went on some more he’d reach that stage of boredom they both wanted.

‘I can ride a horse, though I’d only had pony club lessons before I went outback.’ Her parents had found the money to give her those childhood lessons. They’d been filled with pride the first time she’d taken her little borrowed pony once around the walking ring all by herself. ‘The jillaroo thing didn’t really work out. I found I didn’t like dust and big open spaces all that much.’

Instead of questioning her lack of intrepidity or yawning, he laughed. A deep, rich sound that rippled over her skin and made her catch her breath, and made him look years younger even as his laugh faded abruptly.

Their main courses arrived. Fillet of sole for her on a bed of spiced lentil mash, salmon steak for him with green beans and wild rice.

Marissa though he might leave the discussion there, or change the topic. Or simply let the silence grow as its own demonstration of his complete lack of interest in the minutiae of her life.

Instead, he caught her glance again and said, almost desperately, ‘What else have you done with your time?’

‘I went through a craft phase that lasted several years.’ Surely he would find that very ordinary. She sipped her wine and a part of her registered the wonderful fruity tartness against her tongue before she went on. ‘I crocheted a throw rug, made one patchwork quilt—a very small one. Tried out bag beading and made a tissue box cover, created my own calendar out of photos.’

Bought baby wool and hid it in the bottom drawer of my dresser, even though I know it’s there and there’s a part of me that wants to get it out and buy a knitting pattern for tiny little booties and work out how to make them.

Why did she have to feel this way? Why did she suddenly want all these things with an ever-increasing fierceness? Was it just because she was soon to turn thirty? Well, whatever the reason, it was highly inconvenient and she wished she didn’t feel this way, and it was really not conducive to her peace of mind to have such thoughts in Rick’s presence!

‘And you’ve made a laminated desk cover of cartoons. I glanced at some of them. You’ve gathered some good material.’ Though his words were bland, the look in his eyes was anything but.

‘I’ve tried out a lot of different things. I’m not like that about work, though,’ she hastened to add. ‘I’m perfectly happy at Morgan’s and hope to stay with the company for a very long time.’

‘You’ve worked with us about six months, haven’t you?’ As easily as the conversation had rambled through her hobbies, it shifted to ground she didn’t want to visit. ‘What about before that? There’s a stretch of time between those early things and now.’ And now he looked interested in quite a different way.

Marissa tried not to let her body stiffen but she so didn’t want to answer his question. She shouldn’t have let the conversation head in this direction at all. ‘I worked as a secretary in marketing for a number of years before … before I moved into my lovely position working for Gordon. I also like my apartment here better than the old one.’