a backwards glance she swept from the department.
* * *
It had been an interesting morning. Gabe was well aware that he had been well and truly sized up, tested and judged. What the verdict was he had no idea.
Nor, truth be told, was he that interested. He had his own weighing up to do.
Tough, but not as tough as she thought. Surprisingly stylish for someone who lived and breathed work; the sharp little suit she was wearing would pass muster in the most exclusive streets in Paris—unusual for an Englishwoman. He liked how she wasn’t afraid of her height, accentuating it with heels, the blonde hair swept up into a knot adding an extra couple of centimetres.
And she wasn’t going to give him an inch. The solution to the offices was masterful. It was going to be fun working with her.
He loved a good game.
Gabe strode through the foyer, smiling at Rachel as she looked up with a blush. Maybe he should have gone a little easier on the flirting. He wouldn’t make that mistake with his own assistant—he would request a guy or, even better, a motherly woman who would keep all unwanted callers away and feed him home-made cake. He made a note to keep an eye on the ‘interests’ section of any applicants’ CVs.
He opened the door to Polly’s office without knocking; after all they were sharing it.
‘This is going to be fun,’ he said as Polly looked up from her computer screen, trying unsuccessfully to hide her irritation at the interruption. ‘Roomies, housemates. We should take a road trip too, complete the set.’
Bed mates would really make it a full hand but he wasn’t going to suggest that. Totally inappropriate. But, despite himself, his eyes wandered over her face, skimming over the smattering of freckles high on her cheeks, the wide mouth, the pointed little chin. She kissed like she spoke—with passion and purpose—but there was none of the coolness and poise. No, there was heat simmering away behind that cool façade.
Heat he was better off pretending he knew nothing about.
‘I’ll let you have a lift in the company car. Will that do?’ She looked unamused. ‘Did you decide on office furniture? There’s a temporary desk for you there.’ She nodded over towards the wall where a second desk had already been set up, a monitor and phone installed on its gleaming surface.
‘I’ll be here a week or two at the most according to Building Services and then you’re free of me.’
‘Hardly,’ she muttered so low he could barely make out her words then spoke out in her usual crisp tones. ‘Are you available to talk now?’
‘Certainement, if you need me to be.’ He didn’t mean to let his voice drop or to drawl the words out quite so suggestively but the colour rising swiftly in her cheeks showed their effect all too clearly. ‘It would be good to start again, properly,’ he clarified.
‘Good.’ Polly waited until he had taken his seat at his new desk. It wasn’t quite as good a position as hers, which faced the incredible windows. When Gabe had sat there absorbed in his work he would look absently up every so often, only to be struck anew by the light, the simple artistry of the stylised floral design.
Now his view was the bookshelves that lined the opposite wall—and Polly, her desk directly in his eyeline. She swivelled her chair towards him, a notepad and pen poised in her hand, her legs crossed.
The only way this was going to work was if he behaved himself in thought and deed. But he was a mere man after all and better souls than him would find it hard to stop their gaze skimming over the long willowy figure and the neatly crossed legs. Incredibly long, ridiculously shapely legs. Of course they were.
‘You’ve got a pretty impressive CV,’ she said finally. ‘Why Rafferty’s?’
‘That means a lot coming from you,’ he said honestly. ‘Oh, come on,’ as her brows rose in surprise. ‘Polly Rafferty, you set the standard, you must know that. I came here to work with you.’
‘With me?’
‘Don’t misunderstand me, there’s a lot you can learn from me as well. In some ways Rafferty’s is stuck in the Dark Ages, especially digitally. But, you have done some great things here over the last few years. I have no problem admitting there are still things I need to learn if I am going to be a CEO by the time I’m thirty...’
‘Here?’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Would you let me?’
‘You’d have to kill me first.’ She shook her head, her colour high.
‘That’s what I thought. No, maybe a start-up, or even my own business. I’ll see nearer the time.’
‘You’re ambitious. It took me until I was thirty-one to make it.’ Her eyes met his coolly, the blue of her eyes dark.
‘I know.’ He grinned. ‘A little competition keeps me focused.’ He shrugged. ‘Rafferty’s is possibly the most famous store in Europe if not the world. It’s the missing piece in my experience—and I have a lot to offer you as well. It’s a win-win situation.’
She leant back. ‘Prove it. What would you change?’
He grinned. ‘Are you ready for it? You only just got back.’
The corners of her mouth turned up, the smallest of smiles. ‘Don’t pull your punches. I can take it.’
‘Okay then.’ He jumped out of the chair and began to pace up and down the room. It was always easier to think on his feet; those months of being confined to bed had left him with a horror of inaction.
‘Your social media lacks identity and your online advertising is practically non-existent—it’s untargeted and unplanned, effectively just a redesign of your print advertising. I suggest you employ a digital marketing consultant to train your existing staff. Emily is very capable. She just needs guidance and some confidence.’
He looked across for a reaction but she was busy scribbling notes. Gabe rolled his eyes. ‘This is part of the problem. You’re what? Writing longhand?’
‘I think better with paper and pen. I’ll type them up later.’ Her voice was defensive.
‘Non, the whole company needs to think digitally. The sales force need tablets so they can check sizes and styles at the touch of a button, mix and match styles.’
‘We have a personal touch here. We don’t need to rely on tablets...’
‘You need both,’ he said flatly. ‘But what you really need is a new website.’
There was a long moment of incredulous silence. ‘But it’s only three years old. Do you know how much we spent on it?’
Polly was no longer leaning back. She was ramrod-straight, her eyes sparkling, more in anger than excitement, Gabe thought. ‘Too much and it’s obsolete. Come on, Polly.’ His words tumbled over each other, his accent thickened in his effort to convince her.
‘Do you want a website that’s fine and gets the job done or do you want one that’s a window
