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CHAPTER TWO
HOW long had he been standing there?
‘Yes … Ah … Sophie … ‘ she managed, two stuttering heartbeats later. ‘Sophie Buchanan.’
And, oh … he was gorgeous, from the sun-bleached tips of his dark brown hair to that clean-shaven jaw that looked strong enough to crack rocks on. From the pressed white shirt and charcoal tie to the fresh sandalwood soap scent winding through her senses. She didn’t dare let her gaze wander down the rest of him.
He was the kind of man that made you momentarily forget your own name because you were too busy drawing breath and taking in the view.
For heaven’s sake, you could be in serious trouble here, girl. Focus. She dragged the scattered remnants of her business self together. ‘Good morning … Mr Sanderson … I was just … I’ve brought your agenda … up.’ Then, as if she hadn’t just been hacking into his computer without his knowledge, she walked smartly around from behind his desk, stuck out her hand. Smiled. And, for once, thanked the genes that had bestowed her with a five-feet-ten height advantage—but still it wasn’t enough because this man was at least six feet two. ‘I’m looking forward to working with you today.’
His firm unyielding palm met hers—an instant zap—and she had to force herself not to think about the way he’d palmed her breasts in her dream last night.
Because nothing surer, this was that guy.
And that was bad. Very bad. She didn’t want her dream lover spilling into her working life and she needed every day’s employment she could get. How was she going to face him all day today and not remember how it felt to be made mad, passionate and sizzling love to? And more importantly, not to let it show?
At least he didn’t know. He couldn’t … Or did he? One corner of his mouth stretched into some semblance of a smile but the eyes … there was a lot going on behind those shadowed green eyes.
‘Call me Jared,’ he said, still imprisoning her hand within his large firm grip. ‘We keep things informal around here.’
Yes, very informal. Smile still frozen in place, she tugged her fingers from his grasp, clasped her tingling hand at her side and reminded herself that he hadn’t bothered to introduce himself yesterday. ‘Right. Jared—’ She practically bit off the word and pressed her lips together. She had not just moaned his name the way she had last night, but guilty heat streaked into her cheeks anyway. He was only speaking to her now because she was in his office.
To delete an email from his computer.
The screen of which he was studying, brows lowered. Against her will, her eyes flicked there too, to make sure the file hadn’t somehow popped up again. When she looked back at him he was studying her with that same inscrutable expression.
He seemed to shake it away and said, ‘I apologise for missing you yesterday, I had to rush off. My sister went into labour and her husband was unavoidably detained. I trust Mimi looked after you?’
The receptionist. ‘Yes, she did.’ Sophie instantly forgave him for yesterday’s lapse. How many guys were so involved with their sisters that they’d rush off to be with them during labour? Unlike her brother, who’d not contacted her since he’d escaped the hell that was their home and moved to Melbourne years ago.
‘Did everything go okay?’ she said, relieved to have something other than that dreaded email and the sexual buzz that seemed to surround them to focus on. ‘What did she have?’
His eyes warmed and, oh, my, he had the most disarmingly crooked grin that kind of creased his left cheek and threatened to buckle her knees.
‘Everything went great.’ If he’d been the father he couldn’t have sounded more delighted. ‘It’s a girl. Arabella. Three and a half kilos or seven pounds seven ounces in the old money.’
‘Wonderful. Lovely name.’ She paused. ‘So I guess you were busy last night, then. Celebrating?’ Far too busy to catch up on boring old matters such as emails from the office.
He looked at her with an unsettling directness, as if he’d heard her thoughts. Indeed, as if he knew what she’d been enjoying last night, with him. And more of that blood pumped into her cheeks.
He smiled again, that warmth back in his eyes. ‘Melissa and I had a champagne or two.’
Melissa? He was involved. Sophie felt as if something had jabbed her skin and left her deflating piece by piece. She had to force her shoulders back and stand straight. Pam hadn’t let her in on that little snippet. She’d told her he didn’t have time for relationships, his family took precedence, that women were way down on his list, and, no, he wasn’t gay.
Sophie reminded herself quickly and sternly that it made no difference. In fact it was good. Great. Men were off her agenda for life. And she was going overseas in three weeks and five days.
She lifted her chin to demonstrate a confidence she was far from feeling. ‘I won’t hold you up. I know you have an eight a.m. meeting in Coolangatta.’ Thank heavens. She could—
‘No rush,’ he said in that steel and velvet voice that both startled and enticed.
‘I …’ She watched the way the muscles in his back shifted beneath the smooth white cotton as he sank into his plush leather chair. Held her breath and waited for her heart to stop while she watched his long tanned fingers work the keyboard and … Oh, dear … Remembered those clever fingers working on her body … The sensation peppered her skin with instant goose-bumps.
She shook the fantasy away. More important to worry about how long he’d been watching her at his desk and what he’d seen. From her position, she saw him click off his agenda and bring up his emails. Her stomach tightened. Oh, no.
‘Wouldn’t want to miss anything important.’ He glanced sideways at her, although how a glance could scour your eyes for every secret you’d ever kept and last for eternity—
Prickly heat climbed up her neck and her hand rose unsteadily to play with the button at her throat. ‘I’ll let you get on with it,’ she said, backing away before he decided to open his Deleted Items folder and flash her private thoughts onto the screen and … she’d just die of embarrassment. No, no, she reminded her stunned self, she’d deleted it permanently. She was off the hook—
‘What’s this?’ He stilled, leaning closer to the screen, blocking Sophie’s view and her heart jumped into her mouth again. ‘This is your work, I take it?’ He turned slowly towards her. His eyes seemed darker and there was a gleam there that she was sure hadn’t been there before.
She found herself backing away from his powerful gaze as if pushed by some physical force. Her hands alternately fluttered and clenched in front of her. ‘I can … explain …’
‘No need.’ He leaned back in his chair, a slow smile touching his lips. ‘I left it with Pam but I see you’ve finished it. Everything looks to be in order, you can email it today.’
The Lygon report. A sigh escaped her lips, instantly bitten off when she caught him still watching her, eyes darker than she’d thought. She straightened. ‘I’ll get right on it.’
‘This afternoon will be soon enough.’ He glanced back at the screen, then said, ‘Nothing else here that can’t wait.’
He rose and she almost sagged with relief. Her legs were like jelly and she really, really wanted to escape to her desk and regroup.
But before she could propel herself forward—rather, backward and away—he opened his briefcase, pulled out a few files. ‘Since you’re here and obviously enthusiastic to get on with the day, I’d like you to come with me.’
‘Me?’ To Coolangatta? With him? Her breath caught. ‘But …’
He looked up sharply. ‘Is that a problem?’
Uh oh. A temporary PA’s golden rule: do not irritate the boss no matter how short your stay is. ‘No. Not at all. Absolutely.’ She shook her head, then nodded. Her head spun.
‘Good.’ His eyes pinned hers so directly, so intensely, she felt as if she were being probed, naked, with twin lasers.
She flicked at her collar, lifted her blouse away from her skin, sticky now despite her morning shower, and flashed him a smile. ‘I’ll leave a note for Mimi.’
‘Fine.’ He blinked, then seemed to shake his head, the movement abrupt, and frowned at his watch. ‘Better make that call from the car on the way.’ He handed Sophie the files without looking at her. ‘These need mailing this afternoon.’ His voice was clipped as he snapped his case shut. ‘Bring Pam’s laptop, you can familiarise yourself with the project before we get there. Coffee—Forget it, we don’t have time.’
‘No worries.’ This was more like the Jared Sanderson Pam had talked about. Complained about. Adjusting the files in her arms, she swung around to carry them to her desk. ‘I’ll meet you downstairs in two minutes …’
But he was already out of the door, leaving that spicy fragrance in his wake.
Jared tossed his briefcase and suit jacket onto the back seat of his new pride and joy, his BMW hard-topped convertible, and blew out a strained breath. Took off his cufflinks, slid them into his trouser pocket and rolled his sleeves up—something he never did before meeting a new client. He was a professional and he dressed like one. Every day. He liked routine, the predictability of it.
There was nothing routine about this morning.
Nor was Sophie Buchanan, dream-weaver, what he’d expected. Unlike the brazen and over-endowed vision he’d imagined, she was tall, slim and understated. She wasn’t his usual blonde; her hair was the colour of a mid-winter’s night. Smooth and sleek and shiny.
He hadn’t missed her fragrance on the air when she’d all but leapt off his chair. Not the expensive perfume most women he knew wore, but something light and sparkly, like fresh fruit and summer.
And all he’d been able to see when they’d made eye contact was the disturbing image of her sprawled over his bed wearing nothing but a blackberry-stained smile and dangling a sliver of snakeskin from one finger. It had taken considerable restraint not to yank her against him and find out if the reality was as good as the fantasy she’d described.
She’d deleted the email.
He’d seen the nerves, read the body language and was confident it had been a genuine mistake, not some scheme she’d devised to get his attention.
The devil of it was it had got his attention, and in a big way. Just looking at her and knowing what she’d been dreaming had given him a hard-on and he was still feeling its effects. Not a professional image. And knowing all those intimate details, how was he going to deal with having her right outside his office all day?
So why had he asked her to accompany him to Coolangatta? He couldn’t resist the smile. Maybe because she was here already and his PA usually accompanied him? The smile teased his lips into a full-on grin. Maybe he wasn’t going to change his routine just because Pam was unavailable?
And maybe he wanted to find out more about Sophie Buchanan. Like why this woman had dreamed sexy dreams about him when they hadn’t even met. The trick would be not mixing business and pleasure.
She exited the building, sunshine sparking off her ebony hair as she searched his car out. Unlike her fantasy, her dress code was wishy-washy conservative, but a gust of wind blew the fabric of her blouse against her body, outlining a low-cut bra and subtle yet teasing curves. He leaned across the seat and shoved open the passenger door, slid on his sunglasses and fiddled with his GPS while he waited—hardly courteous, but it was preferable to the alternative of letting her see how she’d affected him.
How her creative writing had affected him.
So he wouldn’t let the way he’d noticed her hips undulate provocatively as she crossed the car park—not to mention those long tanned legs beneath her fitted skirt—distract his thoughts from the upcoming meeting.
She dropped into the passenger seat as if those spectacular legs were about to give out and he grinned to himself. Dying to know if he knew, wasn’t she? But she wasn’t asking, and he wasn’t telling.
‘Been temping long?’ he asked as he swung out of the car park.
‘A few years. But not for much longer.’ He noted she wasted no time opening the laptop.
‘Why’s that?’
She tapped keys, her attention riveted to the screen. ‘I’m going to the UK next month.’
‘Oh? Working or sightseeing?’
‘Both, I hope.’
‘Anything lined up there?’
‘Work-wise, not yet. I’ll take it as it comes.’
They were cruising south along the Gold Coast Highway, negotiating the morning peak-hour traffic, and he wondered for a moment how it would feel to take off across the globe with no responsibilities and only oneself to think about.
‘We’ll be meeting with the building’s owner and the architect to discuss the project brief,’ he informed her. ‘You’ll find the info in the file labelled CoolCm20. Familiarise yourself with it and be prepared to add to it later.’
They followed the bitumen past Burleigh Heads and crossed the bridge where a glimpse of turquoise water met white sand lined with Norfolk pines. Salty air with a whiff of motor fumes blew through the open window, but at this time of day he preferred the fresh morning breeze to air conditioning.
‘So your company offers clients advice on refurbishment projects,’ she said, looking up from the file a short time later.
He nodded, checking his rear-view mirror before changing lanes. ‘Not only advice. We prepare a complete project brief. Should he or she wish to proceed, we initiate contracts and manage the project to completion.’ He glanced her way. ‘So you and Pam know each other?’
She nodded. ‘We go back a long way. As a matter of fact, we’re still neighbours in the same apartment complex.’
‘You’re from Newcastle too, then.’
‘Yes. I moved up here four years ago.’
‘With family?’
She shook her head and looked away towards the side window.
‘Boyfriend? Partner?’ he asked, glancing her way again when she didn’t elaborate. He saw her shoulders tense, her jaw tighten.
‘I needed a change of scenery,’ was all she said.
Obviously it wasn’t only the scenery she’d wanted to change. Someone had hurt her. None of his business, Jared told himself. He didn’t need to know her life history. He was only interested in the Sophie who was sitting beside him right now. The one who smelled as fresh as the morning and dreamed about him.
He couldn’t help the smile that threatened to give him away every time he thought about it. The idea of this quietly professional woman playing out those erotic fantasies with him had grasped him firmly between his thighs and wasn’t about to let go.
Unless he did something about it …
* * *
Change of scenery. If only it had been that simple. Sophie refocused her gaze on the safety of the computer screen. How could she have stayed in Newcastle knowing she might bump into Glen and his new lover—his new pregnant lover? Which was inevitable given their mutual friends and working environments. She hadn’t wanted their pitying glances and platitudes so she’d moved to the Gold Coast and taken a business course.
But recurring childhood nightmares had continued to hound her, screwing with her life, making her ill until she’d had no alternative but to seek professional help. Her counsellor had suggested a dream diary and they’d used it to work through her emotional issues. Her abused childhood, her failure as a woman. Even the fact that she’d sought help was still, to her, a failure.
She’d come a long way since arriving in Surfers but the past still haunted her at the oddest times. A word tossed out and she was back in her childhood purgatory, her disastrous marriage. Nightmares were few and far between these days but she still recorded her dreams. A security thing, she supposed.
At least Jared had taken the hint and not pursued further conversation as the car sped south. It gave her a moment to shake off the bad. The bad was gone, over, done, she reminded herself. As Roma had told her at her final session, good times ahead. And that was what it was all about, right? Refocusing on the present, Sophie resumed her attention to the upcoming meeting.
She reread the document on the screen for the umpteenth time. She couldn’t remember a darn word. It was as if her mind had shut out everything except her awareness of the man beside her. Right now his forearm relaxed on the steering wheel. Suntanned, sprinkled with dark hair and sporting an expensive-looking watch, ropes of sinew shifting as he swung out from behind a truck and changed lanes.
She jerked her eyes back to the screen. This infatuation, or whatever it was, was not going to get her paid at the end of the day. She reminded herself he was unavailable. Involved with someone else. Focused on family and his high-flying career. And most important: she wasn’t interested in getting involved.
It should have been easy to push it aside and if it hadn’t been for that stupid dream this whole attraction thing never would have happened. Would it?
‘No special guy, then?’
The question asked in that deep voice jerked her out of her self-talk and put her immediately on the defensive. She focused her gaze on the road ahead. ‘I don’t see how having a man in my life is relevant to my ability to do my job.’
He was silent for a beat, as if considering her snarky response. Then he said, ‘I generally find women in steady relationships make for more stable employees.’
‘Only women?’ How sexist was that? But she didn’t say it. She’d done enough damage in the past twelve hours. She just wanted to do her job with a minimum of fuss and attention and get paid at the end of the day. Then she never had to see him again.
‘Rest assured, I have a strong and committed work ethic, Mr Sanderson—Jared. And while we’re on the topic, how about women in no relationship?’
And why the heck had she said that? Was her subconscious trying to get her into trouble?
With smooth efficiency, he overtook a shiny red Porsche. ‘Which category do you fall into?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘It might.’
A sharp excitement stabbed through her, followed closely by one of anger. She forgot her decision not to look at him. His profile—his very strong, very masculine profile—betrayed no clue as to what he was thinking. ‘What do you mean “it might”?’
What about Melissa? Did he think she’d forgotten? Not noticed? No matter how gorgeous his looks, no matter what she’d fantasised, she did not play the other woman. She knew how it felt to be left for someone else.
‘I need to know whether you’re expected home this evening,’ he continued as they neared their destination. ‘I missed work yesterday, which means we’ll need to work late tonight to catch up.’
‘Oh.’ The barely audible word escaped her lips as the implication sank in. Just him and her alone in his office. To catch up on work. How ridiculously foolish and pathetic she was, to have assumed he’d had something more on his mind.
‘No one’s expecting me. I live alone.’ She hoped her face wasn’t as pink as it felt. Still, it wouldn’t have mattered since he didn’t even glance her way.
‘You don’t have other plans, I hope.’
‘No.’ And from his tone she rather gathered that she’d have had to cancel if she had. Pam had warned her the man was work-driven and focused and expected the same of his staff.
‘Which reminds me.’ He indicated his phone on the console between them while he adjusted his earpiece. ‘Get Melissa for me, please. She’s on speed dial.’
‘Melissa.’ Her stomach dipped, clenched, but she did as he requested, then turned away and watched the scenery slip by. High-rise apartments and businesses interspersed with strips of green and pandanus trees and now glimpses of blue sea. She wouldn’t allow herself to feel uncomfortable.
‘Lissa, hi, it’s me. I won’t be home for tea, I’m working back.’ Brisk and to the point. Pause. ‘I don’t have time to talk about that now, Liss. I have someone with me.’ He lifted his sunglasses to rub the bridge of his nose. ‘Later. And tell Cryssie I’ll call by the hospital tomorrow for sure. Yeah. Bye.’
Sophie couldn’t pretend she hadn’t heard the conversation. The way that smooth tone had roughened with something that sounded close to exasperation.
‘My sister,’ he muttered.
A tiny shiver danced down her spine and she remained motionless a moment, lips pressed together to stop the smile threatening at the corners of her mouth and trying not to feel ridiculously … what? Pleased? Excited? Delighted?
She shouldn’t be feeling any of those things.
Leather creaked as he shifted in his seat. She saw the movement from the corner of her eye, saw him glance at her as he exhaled an impatient breath through his nostrils. ‘I fail to see the humour. Ever tried reasoning with a seventeen-year-old girl?’
Her smile bubbled over into a laugh and she glanced his way. Clenched jaw. Hands a little tight on the steering wheel. Speedo a little high as they cruised along the esplanade and into Coolangatta. ‘Can’t say I have. But I’ve been one, so I can tell you it does get better.’
He made some non-committal noise as he pulled to a stop outside a four-storey apartment block and switched off the ignition. ‘It can be a challenge at times.’
He spoke as if he were Melissa’s parent rather than her brother. Or maybe it was just that brothers were never meant to get along with their sisters. Yet she knew that wasn’t true. The dysfunctional household she’d been brought up in had tainted and distorted her perception of family life and love.
‘Do you have siblings?’ His voice interrupted her thoughts.
‘A brother. In Melbourne.’
Somewhat surprised by her instant switch from bright and chirpy to gloom and doom, Jared reached for his jacket on the back seat. ‘You’re not close?’
She followed his lead, gathering her bag and laptop. ‘I haven’t seen him in years, so no.’ She peered through the windscreen at the nondescript grey building behind a cyclone fence. ‘This is the place?’
‘Yep.’
Jared had been itching to get another good look at her since they’d left Surfers but the traffic had been snarly and required his full attention. Now he took a moment. The brandy-coloured eyes had lost that desperation he’d seen in his office and he doubted the hint of blush on her high wide cheekbones was make-up—more likely her natural colour. And her lips … they were something else. Full, luscious-looking and caramel glossed … they promised to taste as sweet.
Damn it, not now.
He reminded himself this wasn’t a date, ordered his unruly body to cooperate and forced his attention to the building in front of them while he rolled down his sleeves. ‘You have to think potential, Sophie.’
He’d made his fortune by seeing possibilities and making them happen. He’d been a millionaire at twenty-seven because he dared to dream and didn’t let others tell him it wasn’t possible.
‘I’m afraid I’m not very imaginative.’
His gaze swung back to her just as she turned to him with a stunned tell-me-I-didn’t-say-that expression and their gazes locked and for a beat out of time the spectre of that dream fantasy smouldered in the tiny space between them. ‘I don’t believe that for a moment.’
‘Believe it,’ she muttered, and, pushing out of the car, she started walking.
He shrugged into his jacket, grabbed his briefcase from the back seat and caught up with her along the path. Without further comment she accompanied him to the main door where they met the owner, Sam Trent, and Ben Harbison, an architect who’d worked with Jared on several projects. After a briefing in Sam’s office, they spent half an hour inspecting the premises while Sophie took notes. For the remainder of the meeting, she worked unobtrusively at one end of the table, the only sound the quiet click of her keyboard.