it gospel and verse.’ She turned to Liz. ‘You’re far too lovely to be just a secretary, my dear, and in his own way Cam’s not bad either. It is what makes the world go round. But anyway—’ she turned back to Cam ‘—how’s Archie?’
‘A nervous wreck. Wenonah’s puppies are due any day.’
Narelle Hastings chuckled. ‘Give him my love. Oh! Excuse me! Some more latecomers. And don’t forget,’ she said to Liz, ‘life wasn’t meant to be all work and no play, so enjoy yourself with Cam while you can!’ And she wandered off.
‘Don’t tell me how to look,’ Liz warned him.
‘Wouldn’t dream of it. Uh—Narelle can be a little eccentric.’
‘Even so, I knew this wasn’t a good idea,’ she added darkly.
He studied her, then shrugged. ‘I don’t see it as a matter of great importance.’
Liz glanced sideways at him, as if to say you wouldn’t! But that was a mistake, because she was suddenly conscious again of just how dangerously attractive Cameron Hillier was. Tall and dark, with that fine-tuned physique, he effortlessly drew the eyes of many of the women around them. Was it so far off the mark to imagine him being mobbed? No, that was ridiculous…
‘It’s not your reputation that’s at stake,’ she retorted finally. ‘That was probably…’ She paused.
‘Ruined years ago?’ he suggested.
Liz grimaced and looked away, thinking again, belatedly, of black marks on her record. Did not actually come to blows with temporary employer, but did insult him by suggesting he had a questionable reputation…
‘This place is quite amazing,’ she said, switching to a conversational tone, and she took a sip of champagne. ‘Is the party in aid of any special event?’
Cam Hillier raised his eyebrows in some surprise at this change of pace on her part, then looked amused. ‘Uh—probably not. Narelle never needs an excuse to throw a party. She’s a pillar of the social scene.’
‘How…interesting,’ Liz said politely.
‘You don’t agree with holding a party just for the sake of it?’ he queried.
‘Did I say that? If you can afford it—’ She broke off and shrugged.
‘You didn’t say it, but I got the feeling you were thinking it. By the way, she happens to be my great-aunt.’
Liz looked rueful and took another sip of champagne. ‘Thanks.’
He looked a question at her.
‘For telling me that. I #x2026;sometimes I have a problem with…with speaking my mind,’ she admitted. ‘But I would never say anything less than complimentary about someone’s great-aunt.’
This time Cam Hillier did more than flash that crooked grin; he laughed.
‘What’s funny about that?’
‘I’m not sure,’ he returned, still looking amused. ‘Confirmation of what I suspected? That you can be outspoken to a fault. Or the fact that you regard great-aunts as somehow sacred?’
Liz grimaced. ‘I guess it did sound a bit odd, but you know what I mean. In general I don’t like to get personal.’
He looked sceptical, but chose not to explain why. He said, ‘Narelle can look after herself better than most. But how come you appear to handle a position that requires great diplomacy with ease when you have a problem with outspokenness?’
‘Yes, well, it’s been a bit of a mystery to me at times,’ she conceded. ‘Although I have been told it can be quite refreshing. But of course I do try to rein it in.’
‘Not with me, though?’ he suggested.
Liz studied her glass and took another sip. ‘To be honest, Mr Hillier, I’ve never before been told to pass on the message that my employer’s…um…date would rather consort with a two-timing snake than go to a party with him.’
Cam Hillier whistled softly. ‘She must have been steamed up about something!’
‘Yes—you. Then there was your own assertion that to go to a party alone would leave you open to being mobbed by women—I had a bit of difficulty with that—’
‘It’s my money,’ he broke in.
‘Uh-huh? Like your great-aunt, I won’t take that one as gospel and verse either,’ Liz said with considerable irony, and flinched as a flashlight went off. ‘Add to that the distinct possibility that we could be now tagged as an item, and throw into the mix that death-defying drive through the back streets of Sydney, is it any wonder I’m having trouble holding my tongue?’
‘Probably not,’ he conceded. ‘Would you like to leave the job forthwith?’
‘Ah,’ Liz said, and studied her glass, a little surprised to see that it was half empty, before raising her blue eyes to his. ‘Actually, no. I need the money. So if we could just get back to office hours, and the more usual kind of insanity that goes with a diary secretary’s position, I’d appreciate it.’
He considered for a moment. ‘How old are you, and how did you get this job—with the agency, I mean?’
‘I’m twenty-four, and I have a degree in Business Management. I topped the class, which you may find hard to believe—but it’s true.’
He narrowed his gaze. ‘I don’t. I realised you were as bright as a tack from the way you handled yourself in the first few hours of our relationship—our working relationship,’ he said as she looked set to take issue with him.
‘Oh?’ Liz looked surprised. ‘How so?’
‘Remember the Fortune proposal—the seafood marketing one? I virtually tossed it in your lap the first day, because it was incomplete, and told you to fix it?’
Liz nodded. ‘I do,’ she said dryly.
He smiled. ‘Throwing you in at the deep end and not what you were employed for anyway? Possibly. But I saw you study it, and then I happened to hear you on the phone to Fortune with your summation of it and what needed to be done to fix it. I was impressed.’
Liz took another sip of champagne. ‘Well, thanks.’
‘And Molly tells me you’re a bit of an IT whiz.’
‘Not really—but I do like computers and software,’ she responded.
‘It does lead me to wonder why you’re temping rather than carving out a career for yourself,’ he said meditatively.
Liz looked around.
A few couples had started to dance, and she was suddenly consumed by a desire to be free to do what she liked—which at this moment was to surrender herself to the African beat, the call of the drums and the wild. To be free of problems…To have a partner to dance with, to talk to, to share things with. Someone
