on the back of her office door. She ought never to have let Sue persuade her to wear it. The black one would have been so much more suitable.
In the close intimacy of his car Peta felt his presence as if she never had before. She could feel every one of her nerve-ends skittering simply because she was sitting close to him, the skin on her bones tightening, and the most damning heat invading her body.
‘What’s wrong?’
My heart’s thumping so loud it hurts, that’s what’s wrong, she thought. And it was complete and utter madness. She lifted her chin and dared to look at him. In profile, he was the essence of autocratic arrogance. A high forehead, a Roman nose, full lips, a firm chin. And, what she hadn’t noticed before, long, thick eyelashes.
He turned to look at her. ‘Well?’
‘Nothing.’
‘You’re uptight about nothing?’ he demanded crisply.
‘Maybe because I don’t think I’ll live up to your expectations, Mr Papadakis.’ Dammit, she hadn’t meant to say that. She wanted him to think that she was Miss Efficiency. But something had made her say it; probably a need to point him away from the real reason that she was on edge.
‘All you need to do is make notes. We talked about it earlier; I thought you understood. You haven’t let me down so far. I have every faith in you.’ Adding after a slight pause, ‘I’d prefer it if you called me Andreas when we’re alone.’
Peta only just stopped her mouth from falling open. Progress indeed! Not many people on the company, she was sure, called him Andreas. It was always Mr Papadakis, even from his most senior staff. His attitude didn’t invite familiarity. ‘Very well,’ she agreed, but somehow she couldn’t see herself doing it.
‘That’s good, Peta.’
She rather liked the way her name rolled off his tongue. He made it sound beautiful and exotic.
‘So no more nerves, hey?’ he asked as they pulled up on the hotel forecourt. And his smile did the most nerve-chilling things to her body. This wasn’t the Andreas Papadakis she knew, and she didn’t want him turning into anything else. She had grown used to his harshness. She could handle it. If he turned all soft on her she would end up a mushy mess.
But once the conference got under way she need not have worried. This was her employer at his most efficient. He was chairing the meeting, and every now and then when some pertinent point was made his eyes darted in her direction to make sure she had made a note of it. He need not have worried either. She was writing everything down.
Each delegate wore a name badge, so she knew exactly who was saying what, and she soon found herself either agreeing or disagreeing with the various statements. Once she almost jumped up to argue with a guy who said that the reason the shipping industry was going into decline was due to apathy on behalf of the ship owners.
It was Andreas himself who slapped him down. Peta found him fascinating to watch. In a dark grey cashmere suit, white silk shirt and a discreet red and grey tie, he was the epitome of a successful businessman. He was clearly respected and his points of view always carefully listened to. She saw several heads nod whenever he made a point; rarely did anyone disagree with him.
But she also saw Andreas the man, the incredibly sexy man. She was able to look at him without fear. She was able to look at those liquid brown eyes with their long curling lashes, at the sensuality of firm, full lips, and she even allowed herself to wonder what it would be like to be kissed by him.
With horror she realised that she had let her mind drift, that she hadn’t heard what had just been said, and Andreas Papadakis’s eyes were shooting daggers. The man never missed a thing! But thankfully he asked Peter Miller to repeat what he had said, as though he himself hadn’t fully heard. And after that Peta was careful not to let her mind wander.
So much was said, so much discussed, that Peta knew it would take her hours to type up the notes. Hours she didn’t have. Unless, of course, she could wangle a laptop out of him and take it home. It would solve the problem of asking Marnie to look after Ben and she would be able to spend precious hours with her son.
The afternoon fled and it was soon time for dinner; time to change into the dress that filled her with horror whenever she thought about it. Andreas had booked her a room and she was able to shower and take a short rest before making up her face and doing her hair.
Peta rarely wore much make-up but this evening she felt that she needed some protective armour, something to make her feel good in the dark green dress. And so on went the foundation and the blusher, the eye shadow and mascara, and a much deeper-pink lipstick than she normally used.
Finally she was ready, and at almost the same time her employer tapped on the door. Peta awaited his reaction, dreading it, not surprised when he slowly and carefully eyed her up and down. It sent a whole gamut of emotions rushing through her as she stood there and suffered his appraisal, notwithstanding the fact that he looked totally devastating in his dinner suit.
He missed nothing. Not the way the satin material defined the curve of her hips, the flatness of her stomach, or the soft roundness of her breasts. It had been horrendously expensive, according to Sue, and made Peta look taller and extremely elegant. And yet all she was aware of was how low the neckline dipped and the way Andreas Papadakis’s eyes had lingered there.
She even caught a glimpse of desire, gone in an instant, and she might have imagined it because all he did was slowly nod his head in approval. ‘Let’s join the others,’ he said crisply.
The more she thought about it the surer Peta was that she’d been mistaken. He didn’t even compliment her, which was the least he could have done, considering the way she’d put herself out for him.
Nevertheless she drew admiring glances from the other delegates, which went some way to appeasing her, and although conversation over the meal still rested on business it was far less formal and there was no need for her to take any notes.
She was extremely conscious of sitting by Andreas’s side and wished he had placed her somewhere else. She was the only female present—obviously the other men had seen no reason to bring their secretaries—and it was only sheer stubbornness that made her get through the evening without feeling uncomfortable.
Andreas, to give him his due, didn’t ignore her. He included her in all conversations, surprising her sometimes by asking her opinion, listening attentively when she spoke. Peta had worked for the company long enough to have formed her own ideas, and was able to contribute successfully.
The only problem was sitting close to Andreas. He had an indefinable charisma, which she was sure even the men must feel, although not in the same way as she did. He was capable of controlling a room full of people with a word and a look, but she couldn’t control the tingle of her senses. It had begun faintly and grown with every passing minute until her veins fairly sizzled.
It was idiotic of her to feel such a response, and yet there was nothing she could do to stop it. She had never for one moment expected, when she was summoned to work for him, that he would evoke such feelings in her. They were contrary to every thought she had, contrary and undesirable. Sex had never played an important part in her life, not after Joe, and she couldn’t understand why this man aroused her baser instincts now.
By the end of the evening she wished that she’d never come, and when he offered to take her home Peta shook her head. ‘It’s all right, I’ll get a taxi.’ In the
