to see X-rays of their teeth? Hip span measurements? To hear their views on plastic surgery and liposuction for possible future reference? I can arrange all that, and more. Maybe if she remained flippant she wouldn’t be tempted to cry.
‘What particular attributes are you looking for?’
‘No.’ The solitary word cut across her questions. ‘Let me explain the rest.’
He paused. In anyone else Claire might have believed it was a glint of vulnerability that flashed through the sharp hazel eyes, and as quickly disappeared. But Nicholas Monroe? Vulnerable? The idea was ludicrous. He simply wouldn’t suffer from that kind of weakening attack. He wouldn’t allow it.
The object of her thoughts cleared his throat. ‘The thing is, I don’t believe in romance. I’ve observed a lot of relationships, and I’ve seen what happens when people think they’re in love. Their personalities alter. They go from sensible to irrational, seemingly overnight.’
‘I see.’ Beyond those two words she didn’t know how to respond. Couldn’t imagine anything that she could possibly say that would be even mildly appropriate. He was discussing love. Disparaging it, in fact. How did one respond when one’s boss did that?
‘Yes.’ He laced his fingers together on top of her file. The gesture looked almost possessive, but Claire rejected this thought as soon as it formed. She was becoming fanciful. Imagine how much her boss would dislike that!
‘When people believe they’re in love,’ Nicholas went on, ‘every sane thought goes out of their heads. Simple matters become the most complicated on earth. If their partner wakes up grumpy one morning, they worry it’s the end of the relationship. They tell lies because they’re afraid the other person will fall out of love with them if they’re too truthful.’
Claire’s heart thunked into her shoes for a second, before she reminded herself this wasn’t about her. She wasn’t a liar, anyway. Keeping your own counsel about your problems was another thing entirely. But how could he feel like that?
‘All right. I guess you obviously don’t want those sorts of complications in your life.’ She hoped her tone was sufficiently bland that he wouldn’t guess that his attitude had shocked her.
‘Correct. What I want is someone sensible, who won’t be swayed by silly emotional ups and downs. Someone I’ll be able to tolerate at my side for decades to come. A woman who respects, as I do, that the concept of being in love is an illusion.’
‘Tolerate. Yes, right. And no being in love.’ This was more like the man she knew and worked for. The vulnerability angle summarily banished, she wrote the words ‘Must be able to tolerate husband who does not love her’ at the top of her notepad.
With effort, she held off from adding anything about liposuction or teeth. Then, with a confidence that was born purely of blind hope, she added, ‘We’ll find someone appropriate for you. Don’t worry.’
Claire could do this. It wasn’t as if she really cared about Nicholas.
‘I’ve already found her.’
Who is she? I’ll rip her throat out. Claire’s pencil drew a deep, squiggly line across the page and tore through to the pages below. She forced her hand to stop, and looked up, feigning a calm expression she didn’t feel. ‘You have?’
‘Indeed.’ He seemed quite pleased about it, too. ‘You understand, Claire, that I’ve been very impressed with your work performance?’
They were back to that again. ‘I appreciate it.’
‘We’ve tested our ability to get along with each other.’ Abandoning his connection with her file, he unravelled his long, lean fingers and began to tick points off on them. ‘At times we’ve disagreed on subjects, solutions to problems, ways to move on a matter.’
The first time that had happened Claire had worried for a whole day that she might have blown her job. She conjured up what she hoped was an agreeable sort of smile. ‘We have. But we’ve always managed to work things out.’
‘Exactly.’ He carried on with his points. ‘Sometimes I’ve been short with you. At other times you’ve been frustrated with me. We’ve weathered the crises, the deadlines, the days when everything went sour. We’ve coped well because we’re both straightforward people, and particularly because neither of us has brought our emotions into the working relationship. I admire that about you, Claire.’
‘You do?’ She tried to clear the croak out of her throat. ‘Um, that is, you do?’
He nodded. ‘You keep a cool head. You look at things in a sensible manner. Business partnerships thrive on sensible, unemotional standards, and so will the kind of marriage I have in mind.’
‘I’m…glad…you feel that way.’ I’m stunned you feel that way. That you have such a cynical view of love. That you believe people devalue themselves somehow if they allow their emotions to come into play. ‘I’m sure you’ll be very comfortable in the kind of relationship you have in mind.’ With whatever poor woman you believe will fit your criteria. Claire was beginning to believe that she, herself, really would be better off out of it.
‘Then perhaps it’s time I told you exactly who I have in mind for this relationship.’
She unconsciously straightened. ‘Please do.’
‘You, Claire,’ he said, ‘happen to be the only woman I can imagine filling the role of my wife.’
The words did pass through her eardrums. It was just that her brain would only absorb them to a certain degree. All she knew was he wanted to get married and he already had the woman picked out. He hadn’t needed to mention any of this to her, and make her heart break out in chilblains, let alone make her think she would have to measure hip spans.
A spark of anger flared. So what? She didn’t even care. ‘I’m sure that would be exactly—What?’
Did she have wax in her ears? Claire could think of no other explanation for mishearing him so completely.
‘Pardon me, but I thought you just said that I—’
‘I said it.’ He lowered his head and proceeded to stare her down through the lock of thick black hair that had flopped over onto his high, intelligent forehead. Waiting. Expectantly. For her to say something.
She did. And she hardly had to work at all to keep her hand from reaching for that errant lock and smoothing it in one long, sensual, inviting sweep. The man had asked her to marry him.
How wonderful! To marry the boss, the man of her dreams. Her stomach did a backflip. Panic stirred to life somewhere at the centre of her psyche and threatened to shut down all systems permanently. She couldn’t comprehend this.
‘Right. I see. You think I would be the best choice for the position of Mrs Nicholas Anthony Monroe, now that you’ve decided there should be one? A Mrs Monroe, I mean.’
Even as she spoke she expected him to laugh and tell her this was all some sort of joke or something. He had to laugh, right? But he didn’t. Her boss really had just asked her to marry him.
Her lungs did their best to fold in on themselves, but Claire forced herself to breathe deeply and slowly through her nose. She could deal with this.
