- -
- 100%
- +
If she didn’t take the job, she knew Paul might never forgive her. But it was more than that—when it came to Zane Lorenson, Gail couldn’t say no.
‘Well?’ There was the merest hint of impatience in Zane’s voice.
Still she hesitated. If she said no, she would be free and Paul need never know that she had had the chance and turned it down.
Sorely tempted, she battled with her conscience. Her conscience won.
There was no way she could deceive the man she loved and was going to marry. It would be like living a lie…
Looking up and meeting Zane Lorenson’s green eyes was like walking into a plate glass window.
She was still mentally reeling when he said silkily, ‘You seem to be having a great deal of difficulty deciding.’
‘Yes,’ she stammered. ‘Yes, I want it.’
She saw what appeared to be a look of almost savage relief and satisfaction cross his face.
It was gone instantly and she knew she must have been mistaken. He wouldn’t care one way or the other whether or not she took the job. If she didn’t take it, no doubt the next girl he interviewed would.
‘Very well,’ he said, his tone businesslike, ‘it’s yours for a three month trial period. I’ll let my secretary know what’s happening and get her to deal with all the details.
‘I understand from Mrs Rogers that you’re free to start at once?’
She nodded, though in truth she didn’t want to start at all. The second the words, ‘Yes, I want it,’ had been spoken she had regretted them.
‘How did you get here?’
Momentarily thrown, she echoed, ‘Get here?’
‘Did you come by bus? Tube?’
After a brief hesitation, she answered, ‘Taxi.’
‘You have a current passport?’
She frowned, unsure where this conversation was heading. ‘Yes.’
‘Good. How long will it take you to pack a bag?’
‘P-pack a bag? You mean to travel?’
‘My, but you’re quick,’ he said with a hint of sarcasm.
She flushed. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just a bit sudden.’
Though Paul had warned her,‘Lorenson has a massive office complex in Manhattan and he likes his Personal Assistant to be free and unencumbered, to be available to travel to his New York offices with him at the drop of a hat,’ she hadn’t expected to be going quite this soon.
‘So how long?’
‘Fifteen minutes.’
‘Right. Let’s get on our way. My private jet’s waiting at the airport.’ A hand beneath her elbow, he hurried her to the door.
Wits scattered by his touch, and feeling as though she had been caught up and swept along by a tidal wave, Gail found herself escorted to the lift.
As it carried them swiftly downwards, he said, ‘I need to discuss something with my secretary, so perhaps you can get a taxi home to pick up your passport and luggage, then go on to meet me at the airport?’
‘Of course.’ She could always ask the driver to wait while she slipped inside for some money.
And this way, she thought with relief, she would have a breathing space, time to talk to Paul and let him know the score.
If she told him how Zane Lorenson had treated her, he might be concerned enough to forbid her to take the job…
She was warming herself with that small flicker of hope when—as though her companion knew exactly what was in her mind and was determined to thwart her—he said, ‘On second thoughts, I’ll only be with Claire for a short time so I might as well take you.’
Apart from needing to speak to Paul, she didn’t like the idea of Zane Lorenson going anywhere near her flat. His knowing her address was one thing, his actually ending up on her doorstep another.
Just the thought made her feel vulnerable, exposed.
Biting back the panic, she said as levelly as possible, ‘There’s really no need for you to go to all that trouble. I can easily—’
‘It isn’t any trouble,’ he told her crisply as the lift doors slid to behind them and they made their way down the corridor, ‘and it makes more sense for us to go together.’
‘Oh, but—’
‘If you took a taxi to the airport you might have some difficulty finding me, so it’ll save time in the long run.’
Knowing she couldn’t keep arguing, she relapsed into silence, her teeth biting into her lower lip.
‘Something wrong?’ he queried, giving her a sidelong glance.
Damn the man, he never missed a thing. ‘No, nothing,’ she assured him.
‘Quite sure? We don’t want to start our relationship with any undisclosed issues or problems. I know it’s the friction in the oyster that makes the pearl, but now you’re my PA I’d like there to be harmony, complete trust and confidence between us.’
She was saved from having to answer by the office door opening and Mrs Bancroft appearing, a sheaf of papers in her hand.
‘Ah, Claire, before we start for the airport, I need a minute or two of your time.’
‘Of course, Mr Lorenson.’ Turning on her heel, she led the way back inside.
Gail found herself shepherded into the office and given a seat.
Her thoughts busy, she paid scant attention while, quickly and precisely, Zane Lorenson issued his orders, ending, ‘I may be gone for a couple of weeks, but I intend to remain incommunicado.
‘If anything really urgent crops up that Dave can’t handle, you know how to get hold of me. Otherwise, I don’t want to be disturbed while I’m away.’
‘I understand, Mr Lorenson.’
‘Good. Then we’ll be off. Perhaps you’ll ask John to bring the car round?’
‘Certainly, Mr Lorenson.’ She lifted the phone. ‘Shall I ask him to pick up your luggage?’
‘It’s already in the boot, thanks.’ Turning to Gail, he queried, ‘Ready to go, Miss North?’
The brisk question scattering Gail’s thoughts like a gunshot scattered starlings, she got to her feet.
They went down in the lift without a word being spoken, but she was uncomfortably aware that he never took his eyes off her face.
As, his hand at her waist, they made their way across the foyer, the pretty blonde behind the reception desk smiled brightly and called an eager, ‘Good morning, Mr Lorenson.’
‘Morning, Miss Johnson,’ he responded pleasantly. ‘Settling in all right?’
‘Very well, thank you, Mr Lorenson.’ She gave him another sparkling smile and shot Gail a glance that was frankly envious.
Judging by the way this attractive girl was practically drooling over him, Gail could quite believe he had no trouble getting a woman to warm his bed whenever he wanted one.
Outside the impressive entrance a stylish black limousine was just drawing up. A moment later the uniformed chauffeur had jumped out and was standing by to open the door.
As they approached, he said, ‘Good morning, Mr Lorenson,’ with a respectful salute.
‘Morning, John… On the way to the airport, will you stop at Delafield House, Rolchester Square? It’s just off the West Brackensfield Road.’
‘Certainly, sir.’
‘How’s the wife keeping?’
‘Very well, considering, thank you, sir. The twins are due any day now.’
‘Know what they’re going to be?’
As Gail got into the luxurious car, she heard the middle-aged chauffeur answer proudly, ‘A boy and a girl, sir.’
‘Lucky man. When they arrive, I dare say your wife will be only too glad of some help, so take a couple of weeks paid leave. I’ll be away, so you won’t be needed here.’
‘Why, thank you, sir,’ the chauffeur exclaimed gladly. ‘Jenny will be grateful. She’s been wondering how she’d cope. But I told her, there’s no need to worry, Mr Lorenson won’t see us in a mess…’
Gail frowned. Though as far as she was concerned he’d been anything but easy to deal with, his consideration for his chauffeur didn’t match the cold, uncaring image Paul had painted.
The thought of Paul made her wonder how she was going to manage to phone him. If Zane Lorenson stayed in the car while she went in to pack, it wouldn’t be a problem. But if he decided to come in…
‘You’re looking worried,’ he observed gravely, sliding in beside her and reaching over to fasten her seat belt. ‘Something wrong?’
Feeling flustered by his nearness, the firm thigh pressing against hers, she moved away as inconspicuously as possible and said jerkily, ‘No. No, nothing at all.’
The ironic glance he gave her confirmed that he had noticed her instinctive reaction to his closeness, but he merely observed, ‘I thought you might have changed your mind about working for me.’
She longed to say that she had, but dared not until she had talked to Paul and got his blessing.
Instead she answered with what conviction she could muster, ‘No, of course not, Mr Lorenson.’
‘As I said, when we’re away from the office I like a friendly, informal atmosphere, so make it Zane, and I’ll call you Abigail.’
‘I prefer Gail,’ she said quickly.
‘Then Gail it is.’
Very conscious of the fact that he was studying her profile, and struggling to keep her composure, she turned to look at him, remarking steadily, ‘Yours is an unusual name.’
His white teeth gleamed in a smile before he told her wryly, ‘I used to curse my father—who had a regrettable taste for Westerns and read a lot of stories by Zane Grey—until I discovered that my mother would have called me Tarquin.’
In spite of herself, Gail smiled. ‘Yes, I see what you mean.’
His eyes on her face, he said softly, ‘You’re quite beautiful when you smile.’
If it had been his intention to destroy her hard won composure, he succeeded. Completely thrown by both by his words and his close scrutiny, she found herself blushing hotly.
A moment later she heard his quiet, satisfied chuckle, before he said with mock repentance, ‘Dear me, now I’ve embarrassed you. I’m afraid I hadn’t realized that some women are still capable of being embarrassed by a compliment.’
Gail sat as if turned to stone as he added caustically, ‘Or anything else for that matter. Most of the females I’ve met, even as young as sixteen or seventeen, are able to throw themselves at a man without so much as a blush…’
Even as young as sixteen or seventeen… Oh, dear God, why had he said that unless he knew?
As she waited in an agony of fear and humiliation for the axe to fall, he went on, ‘It’s quite refreshing to meet a woman in her twenties who obviously doesn’t belong in that category.’ So he didn’t know. She released the breath she had been unconsciously holding. It was her own sense of guilt and shame that had turned a general reference into a specific incident.
Too wrung out to make any further attempt at conversation and wishing herself anywhere but where she was, she stared blindly ahead and made an effort to at least appear relaxed.
But while she remained taut as a drawn bow string she was well aware that her companion—who was leaning back, his long legs stretched negligently, his feet crossed neatly at the ankles—was completely at ease.
Nothing more was said until they turned into Rolchester Square and drew up outside the modern block of flats.
When the chauffeur opened the car door, as nonchalantly as possible, Gail told the man beside her, ‘I’ll be as quick as I can,’ and hastily scrambled out.
She thought for a split second that she had succeeded in leaving him behind, but Zane followed on her heels, saying coolly, ‘If you can rustle up a cup of coffee, I could certainly use one.’
‘Of course,’ she agreed hollowly.
It would be no use attempting to phone Paul now. The internal walls of the flat were paper-thin. Even if she spoke quietly, Zane was bound to realize she was talking to someone.
She could use her mobile to send a text, of course. But if Paul was busy he might not bother to pick up a text message until lunch time, and that would be far too late.
A second or two’s thought convinced her that it would be better to wait until she reached the airport. Then she could slip into the Ladies’ and phone him from there.
If he was willing to let her back out, she could tell Zane that she had had second thoughts and get a taxi home.
Feeling a shade happier, she fished in her bag for the key and let them both into her ground floor flat which, though small, was as pleasant as the two girls could make it.
Dropping her bag on the coffee table and indicating one of the linen-covered armchairs, she asked, ‘Won’t you sit down?’
But, ignoring the polite invitation, Zane followed her through to the tiny kitchen and leaned idly against one of the work surfaces while she put the kettle on and spooned coffee into the cafetière.
Feeling all thumbs because he was watching her, she said, ‘I’m afraid we’ve only got milk. My flatmate’s trying to lose weight and she refused to put cream on the shopping list.’
‘Don’t worry, I’m quite happy with it black.’
Seeing her get out, and fill, a single cup, he queried, ‘Aren’t you going to join me?’
Anxious to bring an end to this nerve-racking situation, she shook her head. ‘I need to write a note for my flatmate before I start packing.’
If her appeal to Paul was successful, she could always tear the note up when she got back. If it wasn’t—and that didn’t bear thinking about—Lynne would need to know what was happening.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.