She was too smart.
Lauren had been in critical corporate situations before and recognised desperation, even when well hidden. This man was heading for breakdown. His taut muscles, firm set lips and weary dark eyes all pointed to extreme stress.
And her question had irritated him so he definitely suspected fraud, probably by someone he’d trusted. She certainly wasn’t going to push it now. Not when she’d behaved like the skittish child she’d thought she’d conquered years ago.
‘I won’t make guarantees I might not be able to keep. I can only promise to do my best. Having the straightforward errors already adjusted helps.’
He relaxed a little, and his lips curved at the corners, almost but not quite forming a smile.
‘Thank you.’
He rose to an impressive height, letting his chair roll away, indicating a door to her left.
‘Through here.’
Lauren picked up her shoulder bag and followed, wishing she were one of those women who were comfortable in killer heels all day. And an inch or two taller. Having to tilt her head gave him the advantage. When he suddenly stopped and turned, her throat tightened at the vague familiarity of his cologne. Not the same one, surely? Yet she recognised it, had never forgotten it. And this close, the lines around his mouth and eyes were much more discernible.
‘I apologise. I should have offered you a coffee. Do you—?’
‘No. No, thank you.’ The sooner she was out of his presence, the better. Then she could breathe and regroup. ‘You’re obviously busy.’
His relief at such a minor point enforced her opinion of the strain he was under.
‘Like you wouldn’t believe. Any answers you find will be extremely welcome.’
He opened the door and ushered her in, the light touch of his fingers on her back shooting tingles up and down her spine, spreading heat as they went. Unwarranted yet strangely exciting.
The décor in the much smaller room matched his office, and included two identical armchairs by the window. But the position of the desk was wrong, standing out from the wall facing the door they’d entered. She walked round to check the two desktops and a keyboard, all wired up ready to go. He followed, stopping within touching distance.
‘Your employer asked for the duplication. Easier for comparisons, huh?’
‘Much. What’s the password?’
He told her. While she activated the computer, he removed a blue folder from the drawer, and placed it on the desk.
‘Anything else you require?’
‘I’ll need a copy of the report for highlighting and a writing pad for notes.’
‘Help yourself to anything in the cupboard. The copier is in Joanne’s office off reception.’
‘The blonde lady?’
‘Yes, currently we don’t have a receptionist. If you have any questions regarding your task ask me. If it’s office related Joanne or any one of the other five employees can help.’
He walked out, not giving her a chance to say thank you, leaving his heady sea-spray aroma behind. Did he treat everyone in the same offhand manner?
Lauren felt like pounding the desk. She’d handled ruder employers who’d been under less pressure with poise and conviction. I’m-the-boss males with autocratic, archaic, even on occasion sexist, views were certainly not an endangered species. It didn’t wash with her. They were in a predicament and she was the solution so she made it clear: no respect and she walked.
The personal aspect here had shaken her composure, giving the impression she doubted her abilities. She’d show him. Tomorrow she’d be the perfect detached computer specialist.
She selected stationery from the cupboard, skim-read the printed files, then spent ten minutes perusing the computer data prior to closing down. The few pertinent notes she’d written would save time in the morning.
Carrying the audit reports, she tried the door leading to the corridor. Finding it locked, she went into Matt Dalton’s office. He was standing, sorting papers on his desk. His gaze was less than friendly to someone he’d hired to solve his problems.
‘I’ll copy these then I’ll be leaving. What time is the office open in the morning?’ Polite and stilted, following his lead. The fizz in her stomach could and would be controlled.
‘I’m here from seven. Do you need transport?’
‘I’ll sort that out.’
‘Good.’ He returned to his papers.
She swung away, heat flooding her from head to feet at his dismissive action. All her fantasies came crashing down. Spoilt, rich, I-can-take-what-I-want teenager had become arrogant, treat-hired-staff-with-disdain boss. Was that why people had left without notice? She’d never wished bad karma on anyone, but she was coming close today!
Long deep breaths as she went out helped to settle her stomach and stop the trembling of her hands.
Before re-entering Mr Dalton’s office, printouts in hand, she reinforced her prime rule of contract work. Never, never, ever get involved. Someone always ended up heartbroken.
Swearing the oath was easy. Sticking to it when confronted with those hypnotic blue eyes that invited her to confess her innermost secrets was tougher than she’d expected. Especially when his lips curled into a half-smile as he said goodbye.
She stabbed at the ground-floor button, angry that she’d smiled back, dismayed that even his small polite gesture had weakened her resolve. The thrill of the chase ought to be in his computer files, not in dreaming of—She wouldn’t dream of anything. Especially not midnight-blue eyes, firm jaws or light touches that sent emotions into a frenzy.
MATT STARED AT the open doorway, perplexed by his reactions to a woman so unlike the outgoing, assured females he usually favoured. He raked his fingers through his hair. They were strangers, so why the censure in her alluring eyes when they’d met? It irked. It shouldn’t have affected his attitude but he knew he’d been less than welcoming.
His finding her delicate perfume enchanting was also disconcerting. And she’d stiffened when he’d touched her. Had she felt the zing too? Please not. He had enough complications to deal with already.
Would it make her job easier if she knew the whole story? Loath to reveal family secrets to outsiders, he’d tell her only if it became relevant to her succeeding. Despite his friend’s glowing report, he’d been less than impressed.
Dalton Corporation was in trouble. His only choice was to trust her on the corporate level. He had little reason to trust her, or any other woman, personally. Especially as her manner said she’d judged him for some transgression made by someone else.
Had she suffered the same indignity as he had? The soul-crushing realisation
