Three Blind-Date Brides

There was something different in him tonight when he looked at her, too. She couldn’t pin it down, but he seemed to be weighing her up, or searching for something. He was perhaps softer towards her? More attentive? Interested in a different way?

Some of his examination seemed—she didn’t know—almost empathetic or something? But that made no sense.

What if he was beginning to think of her in a deeper way? Given her determination to steer utterly clear of even noticing him, the thought shouldn’t please her, yet she felt a reciprocal softening towards him.

‘There may be something Fritzer is hiding about his own dealings or standards.’ Rick’s gaze caressed her face and neck as he went on. Did he realise he was doing that? ‘I’ll have a team investigate that possibility before I commit us to any work with the company. I can find out anything I need to know before they get to the stage of an acceptance of our offer of services.’

He hesitated and a combination of unease and knowledge, awareness and that same empathy flared in his eyes again. For a moment Marissa thought he would reach for her, right there in front of the caterer …

‘Is that coffee? Just what’s needed.’ One of the female business delegates strolled inside. ‘Can I help with anything?’

‘I think we have it under control.’ A frown crossed Rick’s face before he lifted the tray of coffees.

Disappointment surged through Marissa and she told herself not to be foolish, forced her attention to the drinks Rick held on the tray.

The lattes bore everything from starfish shapes to mini Harbour Bridges in the foam tops. He thanked the caterer. ‘The rest we can manage for ourselves, if you’re happy to let yourself out?’

The young man scooped up a backpack from the corner of the kitchen. ‘Cheers. It was a pleasure to help you, as always.’ He strode to the apartment’s front door and left.

They returned to the West Australian business delegation of men and women where they sat in big squashy outdoor chairs grouped around low tables.

Rick’s apartment and exclusive terrace took up the entire top level of the building. The formal outdoor dining area seated up to twenty people. They’d eaten there with city views all around them and the lush foliage of the rooftop garden behind them. The sight and scent of flowers and plants and shrubs filled the area. Roses and mint, hardy native shrubs mixed with hydrangeas and mat-rush and Easter cactus.

His home was truly gorgeous and Marissa couldn’t help but appreciate the beauty. He wore his wealth very comfortably here. He’d seemed pleased when she’d first arrived and admired his apartment and surroundings.

It was also a large enough home, and secure enough, that a small family could thrive quite nicely here if necessary. A house with a full garden would be better, of course, but children could enjoy the terrace garden, or be taken to play in the large park right across the road from the building …

Oh, what was she thinking? She had to focus on the business of the evening, not fantasies that were becoming more and more difficult to quash.

‘Well, it’s a lovely evening for a business function and this is the perfect setting for it.’ She caught Rick’s eye and gestured with her hand, but all that did was draw their attention to the fact that darkness had now fallen and, beyond the well-lit terrace, the city lights, Lavender Bay, the Harbour Bridge, and buildings of all shapes and sizes glittered before them.

The setting was romantic. Her hormones had recognised this immediately, even if Marissa had been busy trying not to notice the fact.

Why couldn’t she stop viewing her employer in this way? Stop herself from developing a deeper and deeper interest in him when she knew that doing so was utterly futile? Was it because she felt she knew Rick better now? Somehow, she’d started to trust him as she’d watched him care for his sisters and nieces and saw his business dealings, which were far more frank than Michael Unsworth’s behaviour had been in the workplace, or out of it.

‘Well, here’s the coffee, everyone,’ she called. ‘Actually, it’s coffee art, with thanks to our now departed caterer.’ She pushed the memories of Michael away and tried not to think about her shifting feelings towards her boss. Rick was much more difficult to dismiss than thoughts of Michael, and that knowledge was not comforting.

Rick didn’t want any kind of emotional commitment. He hadn’t said why, but he’d made that fact clear. She suspected it had to do with his father, or his family life generally, but what did it matter in the end? Her boss didn’t want her. Maybe she should simply be grateful he was being honest about that. She started to hand out the drinks.

Rick watched Marissa hostess the small group, chatting as she went, and he thought about her use of the term ‘we,’ as though she felt as invested in the company as he did. He couldn’t forget kissing her, nor reconcile himself to the shift inside him that had somehow been different from anything he had experienced before.

She looked beautiful tonight, all soft curves beneath the golden dress, her hair up and her nape tantalisingly bare. He wanted to press his lips to that soft skin, to somehow pay homage to her.

Thoughts battered at him. She looked right here—in his home. He wanted to keep her here. And other thoughts—of taking her to his bedroom, closing the door on the world and staying there with her until he knew all of her, understood all of her and she’d given all of herself to him. How could he want that when he would never give her the same in return?

Maybe he didn’t want it. Not really. Couldn’t this all be about lust and the confusion of feeling this way towards a woman he was working with and coming to admire in a working environment?

The business talk moved on. Fritzer goaded a little more, and Rick ignored it. He sat at Marissa’s side, his arm stretched across the back of her chair in a gesture he knew was possessive, but he couldn’t make himself stop it. He needed to be near her, close enough to touch even if he didn’t.

Yes. He was in trouble, but he could control it. He must be able to do at least that.

Over coffee, talk turned to what the city had to offer.

One of the women leaned forward. ‘We have half of tomorrow before we leave. I’m wondering what to do with the time.’

‘There’s plenty on offer in terms of entertainment, shopping, whatever you like, really.’ Rick stretched out his legs, stared at the neat crease in the dark trousers. Imagined the gold of Marissa’s dress against the fabric.

All roads led back to it. The fact that he wanted Marissa—still wanted her.

‘You might consider the new animal petting zoo.’ Marissa spoke the words to the other woman. Her gaze met Rick’s and a delicate flush rose in her cheeks as she seemed to wish she hadn’t raised the topic.

She went on, waved her hand. ‘Holding a koala is a unique experience.’

And then he remembered that moment, the trembling of her shoulders and the rush of protective instinct that had coursed through him, had tapped into instincts he’d been ignoring ever since that moment.

‘The koalas smell of eucalyptus oil, don’t they, Marissa?’ Keep it light. That’s all it can be. ‘Did you manage to wash the scent out of that cardigan?’

‘I did get the cardigan clean, and I imagine our overseas visitors probably made good use of a dry-cleaner’s after that visit.’ Marissa lowered her gaze to her coffee cup. ‘We’ve had some interesting moments during my brief time filling in as your assistant.’

Maybe she wanted to remind them both that this wouldn’t last. That soon she would go back to her regular job and he wouldn’t see more of her than a glimpse in a corridor from time to time. Maybe he should be glad she wanted to remind him of that.

Instead, a kaleidoscope of images and moments spent with her bombarded his mind and his senses. Marissa with a hard hat squashed over her curly hair that day on the bridge. Presenting him with a laminated certificate for his niece for completing her swimming lessons. Cursing at the photocopier beneath her breath when she thought he couldn’t hear her.

He wanted Tom back on his feet but the thought of Marissa easing back to the periphery of his working life didn’t sit well with him.

‘We should go.’

‘Yes, it’s been a productive evening.’

‘We’ll take a vote with the full group and you’ll hear from us.’

One by one their guests stood. It took another few minutes for Rick to see them completely out and away.

When Rick closed the door finally on the guests, Marissa moved to the terrace to collect the empty cups and return them to the kitchen. She turned as he joined her.

‘I’ll get the biscotti tray.’ And then she needed to leave, to forget this glimpse into yet another side to her boss.

‘Leave it for now.’ He poured two glasses of liqueur, passed one to her and led her to the edge of the terrace with his hand on her arm.

‘I guess we deserve five minutes to celebrate this evening’s hard work. To enjoy the view now it’s quiet and there’s time to focus on it.’ She couldn’t help the observation that followed. ‘Somehow I’d expected your apartment to be all chrome and black and sharp lines with the view carefully shut outside through long planes of plate glass. The terrace entertainment area surprised me. It’s lovely.’

‘I’m pleased you like it.’ His gaze darkened on her, again seemed to search inside her.

Would he be as pleased to know she’d imagined it being a home to a family? No. He wouldn’t, would he? She lifted the glass and inhaled the aroma of the drink. ‘I smell spices and tea and rum. And vanilla?’

‘It’s Voyant Chai Cream. I think you’ll like it.’ He watched her over the rim of his glass as they sipped.

‘Very smooth.’ She sipped again. Savoured. Tried hard not to think about the war going on inside her body that shouldn’t be going on at all, and especially not where Rick was concerned.

For the first time in her life Marissa was subjected to forces of her own nature, her own hidden needs, which she had never even considered she might struggle to control. She couldn’t seem to stop herself from associating some of those desires with her boss. She forced her attention back to the drink in her hand. ‘It’s delicious.’

‘Yes.’ The single word seemed to wrap around her, be meant for her. All he did was match her sip for sip before he finally set his glass down, tucked his hands in his pockets and looked out over the harbour, and yet she felt his desire for her as though he’d spoken it aloud.

‘It was a good night, don’t you think?’ He glanced at her, the heat in his eyes partially concealed, but very much there. Talked business as they should be doing. ‘Despite that bit of goading, I expect they’ll sign with us for their project.’

‘It was—yes. I believe it was a successful evening.’ She set her glass down with trembling fingers.

The softness of the city night cast his face in clarity and shadows. Just like the man. She had to pull herself together, to play this out the safe way, to keep her focus on their working relationship and not these odd, nebulous things she wanted that she didn’t even know if she could ever have.

She should put herself to sleep or something until she’d passed her birthday, get it behind her so she could realise it hadn’t changed anything, that she was the same inside and she didn’t have to pine for a family of her own.

‘In part, that success is thanks to you.’ He let his gaze roam over her face. ‘I think you captured all of them.’ His hands fell to his sides. She thought he murmured, ‘You captivated me.’

A long beat of silence followed as she fought with herself. Finally she spoke. ‘I should go. Tomorrow is another working day.’ Maybe if she reminded herself of that she wouldn’t respond to him quite so much.

Marissa moved away from the view, from the sparkle of city lights. They stepped inside and she collected her bag from the kitchen. ‘I’ll get the doorman to organise me a cab straight off the rank downstairs.’

‘I’ll take you down.’

‘There’s no need.’ She drew a breath as they paused before his door. ‘Goodnight, Rick. I’m glad I could help. I hope your sister gets the job promotion. I got the impression it would mean a lot if she did.’

‘Darla deserves the break. She’s worked hard for that company for many years, first as a part-timer and working up to full-time once Kirrilea started school.’

‘You’re proud of her. Of your niece, too.’ She faced him before the closed door, searched his eyes.

‘They’re easy people to be proud of.’ Rick reached past her to open the door. His fingers wrapped around the doorknob.

And the tension wrapped right around them, too.

‘Back away from me, Marissa. Tell me not to mess with a perfectly good working relationship. Tell me not to mess with you.’

‘You’ve been different tonight.’ She whispered the words and he braced his feet and drew her into the V of his body.

Her hand lifted to his chest and he kissed her. Pressed his mouth to hers and his body to hers, and pleasure and a feeling rightness swept through her.

‘More.’ He whispered the word.

Marissa lost herself so thoroughly in Rick’s kiss, lost senses and feelings and responses and, yes, emotions, in him. When his lips left hers to trail over her ear to the sensitive cord of her neck, she closed her eyes and let the feel of his body against hers, his hands cupping her head, her shoulders so sweetly, sweep through her.

Could a man’s touch communicate straight to the heart of not only a woman’s senses, but also her soul? It seemed so.

She clasped her hands on his shoulders, curled her fingers around his upper arms and held on. When he skirted his hands up from her waist, over her back, to where her shoulders were bared by the wide cowl neck of the dress, she shivered.

A strained, needy sound passed through his lips. It was the last thing she consciously registered for long moments as they stood by his door, their bodies tightly entwined, her resistance and grand plans in shambles. Her bag lay at her feet. She had no idea when it had landed there.

‘Say my name.’ The words were harsh and possessive, demanding and enervating. ‘I want to hear it. I don’t want you to be thinking of him—’

What did he mean? A chill rushed over her skin and all through her body. She wrenched away from him. ‘What do you know? What have you heard? About that fake engagement I believed was real? About Michael—’

‘Ah, I didn’t mean to say that.’ He pushed a hand through his hair. ‘I had to know why you left your last job, Marissa.’ His eyes were dark and turbulent. ‘The information about your personal life—I didn’t ask for it, I stopped the man when I realised where he was headed with the conversation but by then it was too late.’

‘Right. I see. So you phoned my old company to investigate why I left, and you found out things about me at that time.’ If his gaze softened into pity she would die right there, and now it all made sense. This. This was the empathy he’d displayed earlier.

‘Without meaning to find those things out, yes.’ He seemed to search for words.

Apology. Regret.

Yes, she heard them in his tone but, most of all, she heard that he knew of that embarrassment. He now probably thought she was desperate and on a manhunt. What if he thought she’d set out to hunt him? Mortification, shame and anger crashed through her. She clutched at the anger because the others were too awful to bear.

‘That call. I knew I recognised the voice.’ And Rick had closed his office door and talked about her. ‘I don’t care if you say it was business.’ Her voice shook. ‘I’d started to trust you. I can’t believe I did. What did the man tell you? That Michael Unsworth made a fool of me? What does that have to do with my good record at Morgan’s?’

‘Nothing. I didn’t want that information. I didn’t ask for it.’ He reached for her hand but she drew back.

He went on in a low voice, ‘I’m sorry he hurt you, Marissa.’

‘Well, don’t be sorry because I am totally over the way Michael treated me. I learned from it and I moved on. Was that what this kiss was about? Pity? Tell me!’

He drew a harsh breath into his lungs. ‘You know better than that. I want you in my bed and I have from the first day I had you up on that excuse for a bridge with me. Maybe you should pity me, because I can’t seem to get that desire for you out of my system, no matter what I do.’

Rick’s admission stunned Marissa into silence. More, perhaps, because of the flash of something deeper than desire that burned for a moment in his gaze before he masked it.

Oh, will you listen to yourself, Marissa? Do you want to fall for Mr Corporate a second time?

Rick had just proved his ruthlessness to her!

But he’d also apologised and seemed as though he meant it.

She scooped her bag from the floor. ‘I just want us to work together and get along and I want to follow my well thought out plans for my life in peace. Is that so much to want?’

‘It isn’t. It isn’t too much to want.’ He took a step towards her as she wrenched open the door. ‘Marissa—’

But she didn’t wait to hear what he might have said.

She left.

CHAPTER NINE

To: Sanfrandani, Englishcrumpet

From: Kangagirl

One last thing to tell you both. I spoke to Mum on the phone early this morning. We had a good talk and I let her know I’d rather spend a weekend with her and Dad a bit down the track after my birthday, that I’m really busy at the moment and don’t want a party of any kind.

From: Englishcrumpet

I’m sure your mum will understand.

From: Sanfrandani

You can throw a big party when you’re ready.

From: Englishcrumpet

Or not.

From: Kangagirl

People make a big deal out of the thirtieth birthday, but really, it’s just another day on the calendar. I probably won’t even think much about it at all.

Grace had instant messaged a little after that, a message Marissa caught on her way out the door to go to work. She’d asked whether Marissa was in denial about her thirtieth birthday.

Marissa hadn’t had time to respond. And right now she was focused on other things. Rick Morgan things, to be precise. Work things. Marissa barrelled along the corridor towards Rick’s suite of offices.

Anyway, she had to come to terms with that looming birthday. It wasn’t denial to say it wasn’t significant, it was the power of positive statement. Say it enough times and she’d come to believe it.

If she could apply the same outlook to her relationship with Rick—her working only relationship—that would be a great help.

As a mature professional, she could work with Rick until his secretary returned. She only had to survive that long and then she could forget him, forget what he knew about her. All she needed to do was hold her head up and he’d soon realise he had no reason to pity her.

Dani and Grace had blamed last night’s kiss on too much alcohol or maybe an overload of successful business-related feeling when Marissa had calmly and casually discussed the topic with them via two separate Instant Message sessions last night and this morning—before she’d sent that later message about Mum and avoiding a birthday party.

You mean when you buzzed them, desperate for some support because you were scared stiff you’d let yourself fall for the boss only to find out he’d invaded your privacy?

She had not fallen for the boss, nor did she intend to. And he had invaded her privacy.

He’s head of a multi-million dollar company and you’ve been working directly for him, handling some very sensitive material. He exercised his right to enquire about your past employment and he said he only wanted to know about that. You know the department head who spoke to him is a big gossip.

Marissa had worked out the identity of the caller, of course. It had only taken the jolt of discovering that Rick had gone after the information for her to remember the owner of that somehow familiar voice.

Okay, fine, there was that. But she still didn’t have to like it or feel comfortable. Rick did know her secret.

Perhaps he hadn’t acted inappropriately, and he had seemed to truly regret the outcome. And she knew one of his secrets. That he wanted to make love to her, had desired her from Day One.

That knowledge did not thrill or tempt her. She couldn’t let it!

Her initial IM sessions with Dani and Grace hadn’t been the result of a desperate buzzing, either. More of a, Hello, if you’re there a talk might be nice but no problem if you’re not kind of buzzing. An, I don’t need help or anything. Just felt like chatting sort of buzzing.

They were all friends. Grace had already confessed that she was concerned about her daughter Daisy going off on her gap year backpacking around Europe and Dani had admitted she had financial pressures and was worried about paying off her student loans from college and graduate school.

Marissa had owed it to them to contribute her share to the confidence stakes, and so she had admitted that she might be having a teensy tiny issue with awareness of her boss. Nothing dramatic. Certainly nothing to worry about. She could put it to rights.

Grace had been the voice of reason, had encouraged Marissa not to blame Rick too much for his accidental knowledge of her past. Dani had been a little silent on the subject, but certainly sympathetic. They’d swapped mailing addresses and phone numbers after their chats, and Marissa had visited the early opening post shop this morning and sent them both some gifts.

Chocolate. Australian chocolate, to be exact, because chocolate lifted your spirits and gave you confidence.

Because her friends might enjoy it, and Marissa did not need courage to face Rick again, even if she had eaten a chocolate bar this morning while mailing the others. All in all, she was dealing very well with her life right now.

She hadn’t even thought about that knitting idea for the past couple of days. Not really. Other than to look at the wool, wondering about the exact blend of lemon and pink and blue of the variegated strands …

Marissa shoved open the door to the office suite.

‘Good morning, Rick.’ She spoke his name in a firm, even, totally in control and not at all kissed senseless or embarrassed or overwrought tone as she crossed the office space at a fast clip.

Stride in. Purposefully get to work. Keep it impersonal and he would soon see she was not at all carrying any scars from the past.

No? So why did you let that past dictate the kind of man you want in your future?

Because she’d learned from her mistake!

‘Thank you, Collins. I appreciate you bringing that to my attention.’ Rick’s voice was pitched in a businesslike tone that had absolutely nothing to do with Marissa’s greeting or, indeed, with her at all.

Because he wasn’t alone, was he? How unprofessional of her to just storm in and start yammering away without even looking. Well, she’d only said good morning, but even so …

Concentrate, Marissa. If professionalism at all times is going to be your motto, you might start with attention to detail. Such as—who might be with your boss when you enter the office.

She hurried to her desk as Rick and the other man headed out of Rick’s room. Right. Marissa set about sorting her in-tray’s contents into ‘Get it done early’, ‘Can wait until later this morning’ and ‘Yeah, sure she’d really get to this today. Not!’ piles on her desk. The laminate covered in cartoons quickly disappeared beneath the piles of work. She wasn’t in the mood to be amused anyway.

Rick saw his visitor out. The man gave Marissa a nod in passing. And then Rick turned to her and yanked at his tie and a wealth of regret showed in his eyes as he seemed to search for words.