was one man she wouldn’t touch with a barge pole. And she was out of here, right now.
CHAPTER THREE
‘SO HOW was the dinner party last night? Cassie serve up salmonella along with the main course, or is there another reason why you look like you ought to be in bed this morning?’ Drew’s voice was light but her baby-blue eyes were anxious as she surveyed Robin’s white face.
‘I’m fine, Drew.’ Robyn had just opened the door to her assistant and now she stood aside, waving Drew in as she said, ‘The coffee pot’s on.’
‘Robyn, you look awful.’ Never one to beat about the bush Drew turned to face her after Robyn had shut the door. ‘Go back to bed, I can manage here.’
That was ridiculous and they both knew it. They had a product launch for a cosmetic company the next day and Robyn had fought off some powerful competition to acquire it. Everything had to be faultless and flawless; she had promised a polished launch with maximum flair and that meant working until late evening as it was, and then a six o’clock start on Monday morning.
‘I’m all right, really.’ Robyn managed a fairly normal smile in spite of the fact she hadn’t slept a wink all night and had been downstairs at her desk by five. ‘I just didn’t sleep well, that’s all,’ she added with a fair attempt at nonchalance.
‘Have you eaten breakfast?’ And at Robyn’s shake of the head Drew scolded, ‘And I bet you were up at the crack of dawn too! Honestly, Robyn, sometimes I think you haven’t got the sense you were born with. You can’t work like you do and skip meals. I’ll make some toast and you’ll sit and eat it before you do anything else.’
‘Thanks, Mum.’ But Robyn was laughing now. This was the other side of Drew that few people saw—the fussy, motherly side—and it was a complete antithesis to the dizzy, frivolous image the attractive blonde normally projected. But then, who knew what anyone else was really like? Robyn thought soberly as Drew bustled off upstairs. Certainly Clay didn’t have the faintest idea what or who she was.
And then she caught herself angrily. No more thinking about Clay Lincoln! She’d wasted all the night hours fretting and walking the floor, and who cared what he thought about her anyway. He’d labelled her an empty-headed, amorous little flirt at sixteen who’d been ready and willing to jump into bed with any male, and now she’d risen to a sour, ruthless-minded business woman who wasn’t averse to using her body to get what she wanted.
She ground her teeth, furious with herself because it still rankled. Because it shouldn’t matter. He was nothing. Nothing.
She had left Cass’s immediately after the episode in the kitchen, pleading a headache, and she hadn’t looked at Clay once, not even when she had said goodbye. Even then she had kept her gaze somewhere behind his left ear.
But somehow—and this was the worst thing of all—she couldn’t get the memory of what that kiss had done to her out of her head and her senses. She touched her lips unconsciously, her eyes wide and unseeing. How could she have responded like that to a man she loathed and detested? He was dangerous. He was so, so dangerous. And unprincipled. And base. And—
She was saved from further reflection by Drew calling down to say she was fixing scrambled eggs on toast and Robyn must come now, not a minute, not a second later.
The two women worked non-stop for the rest of the day with just a ten-minute break at lunch for sandwiches and more coffee, and after Robyn had waved Drew off at just gone five o’clock she continued at her desk until her brain was as scrambled as the eggs at breakfast and the sky was pitch black outside.
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