Slip of the tongue.”
“Watch it,” he advised darkly. “I want my P.A. to impress the man we’re going to meet.”
“What’s his name?”
“Ted Durkin of Durkin and Harris. Big property dealers.”
The name meant nothing to her but clearly it was well known to Jake. The elevator opened onto the re-ception area before she had time to question him. Jake steered her out and pointed her to the stairwell that led down to the back of the building where he parked his car in a private yard reserved for himself and clients.
“Kate,” he called to his front woman, “we’re out of the office. Take messages.”
“When will you be back?”
“Don’t know. If it’s anything urgent I can be reached on my mobile.”
He hurried Amy down the stairs and outside, using the remote button on his key to unlock the BMW M3 supercar which he currently fancied. Amy headed for the passenger side of the two-door coupe. Haste precluded courtesy. They both took their seats and Jake handed her a folded piece of notepaper as he switched on the ignition.
“What’s this?”
“Where we’re going. Better get out the Gregory’s Street Directory and navigate for me. Haven’t got time for wrong turns. I’m right to Military Road. After that, you direct me.”
She extracted the guide book from the glove box and settled back for the ride. The scribbled list on the notepaper did not enlighten her as to their destination. In fact, it looked as though Jake had picked up the wrong sheet. What was written appeared to be information about a woman.
Her mouth curled. It seemed he did research on them, as well. “This says, ‘Estelle, 26, 8, no smoking, no pets, no WP…”’
“Wild parties,” Jake elaborated. “The address is 26 Estelle Road, Balmoral. Apartment 8. The rest are the conditions for rental.”
Amy’s sardonic humour dried up. Her heart per-formed a double loop. She waited until it settled back into seminormal rhythm, counting to ten in the meantime. “I take it this is for me,” she said as calmly as she could.
“If you like it and if we can swing it.”
“Jake, this is not your business.” He’d been en-croaching on her private life all morning. She had to put a stop to it before it got completely out of hand.
“I said I’d look into it for you,” he replied, unshaken from his purpose.
“You said you’d make some calls, not escort me to view places during business hours. I cannot accept…”
“It’s almost the lunch hour,” he reasoned. “You’re always obliging about working overtime in emergencies. The least I can do is this small favour in return.”
“This is not an emergency, Jake,” she argued, barely holding on to her temper. “I can look for an apartment—if I want to move from the one at Bondi—in my own time.”
He frowned at her. “Why are you nit-picking? There’s no harm in looking at a place you might like. It could be the ideal change for you.”
Amy stubbornly stuck to her guns. “You could have given me the address and…”
“No good! You need me with you for this one. I’m your reference. I pressured Ted into showing it to you ahead of his listing it and he’s on his way there now to meet us. He’s a handy business contact, Amy. I wouldn’t like to waste his time.”
She heaved an exasperated sigh, accepting she’d been outmanoeuvred. He was her boss. It would be wrong for her to mess with his contacts. But a stand had to be taken. She didn’t want him pulling strings on her behalf, entangling her in them without her knowledge or permission.
“You should have discussed it with me first. I haven’t made up my mind on this.” And she hated the feeling of being steam-rollered by Jake.
“There’s no obligation to take it. Sounded like a great deal for you, though. Worth seeing if it’s as good as Ted says. And I might add, he’s proved spot-on in his advice to me in the past.”
“What’s so great about it?” she demanded tersely.
“Location for a start. Ted reckoned it was a pearl for the rent being asked.”
“How much?”
He rolled out a sum that was only marginally lower than the rent for the Bondi apartment. Even with her new salary, it would take a bigger chunk of her income than she felt was reasonable for her.
“Ted told me it could command a much higher rent,” Jake burbled on. “But the owner’s fussy about getting the right tenant in and has scaled the rent to suit. The apartment was recently purchased and is in the process of being refurbished. The owner doesn’t want any damage to it, so…”
“No smoking, no pets, no wild parties.” Amy looked at the list again. “What does ‘SCW’ stand for?”
“Single career woman. Someone who respects property and has a tidy mind.” Jake flashed her a teasing smile. “I said you fitted the bill. Never met a woman more intent on keeping things in order.”
Including you, Amy thought darkly. He was such a tempting devil, too attractive for his own good, and he thought he could charm his way into anything. Not my life, she fiercely resolved. It was bad enough being dumped by Steve. If she let Jake get too close to her, she had a terrible suspicion he had the power to steal her soul. Then where would she be?
Every self-protective instinct screamed alarm in his presence and today the scream was louder than ever. Raw and vulnerable from the weekend’s revelations, Amy admitted to herself she was frightened of Jake slipping past her guard, frightened of the consequences. She fretted over the knowledge he now shared that Steve couldn’t be used as a barrier between them anymore.
Though that wasn’t entirely right.
Steve had been much more to her than a barrier against Jake.
Much more, she insisted to herself.
She opened the Gregory’s Street Directory and started plotting their course to Estelle Street, trying her utmost to ignore the man beside her. His power was threatening to swamp her; powerful masculinity, powerful car, powerful friends, and they were all being used on her. Or so it felt.
We’ve got Amy Taylor right where we want her.
Not precisely.
A bit of manoeuvring.
The provocative words clicked through her mind again, conjuring up another scenario. An apartment in Balmoral was Jake’s idea. He’d given her a raise in salary so she could afford it. He’d found one for her, supposedly to order. He’d tricked her into his car so he could take her there, pressured her with the importance of a business contact.
Was it some kind of put-up job between him and his friendly property dealer, Ted Durkin?
But
