despite what you said to the contrary, you couldn’t help wondering if I had something else in mind?’
Alex smiled suddenly. ‘If you had known my Mother Superior, you would also know that “penthouses” and “after hours” are all things sensible girls should avoid like the plague. I guess that habit of suspicion becomes a bit engrained. I really am over it now, though—I’ll come.’ She held out her hand, quite unaware of the startled look in Margaret Winston’s eyes, then the small smile of approval that good lady allowed herself before she left.
But it was when he took her hand and shook it that Alex discovered something curiously mesmerizing about Max Goodwin. Was it pure animal magnetism? she wondered. A heady assault on the senses because, even if he was arrogant and incredibly high-handed, he was also good-looking and impressive with those broad shoulders and narrow hips so that he wore his beautifully tailored suit to perfection?
Was it the sneaking suspicion that, despite those blue eyes and the suit, he’d be quite capable of throwing you across the back of his horse like a disobedient squaw and cantering off with you?
Don’t be ridiculous, Alex, she chided herself immediately…
But it wasn’t only that tantalizingly dangerous appeal to him, she reflected. There was a vitality to him that was hard to resist. There was the fact that she might despise his ways and means, but she found him an interesting, worthy opponent to cross swords with.
There was that wary little feeling she’d experienced earlier that he’d crossed some boundary into the personal with her—was that really why she’d been a bit dubious about this after-hours meeting in the penthouse?
On the other hand—and this took her by surprise and shook her a little as she reclaimed her hand—there was the curiously fascinating detail that she came up to just above his shoulder height…
CHAPTER TWO
AT FIVE minutes to six that evening, Alex barrelled into the foyer of Goodwin House with her hair and scarf flying and a variety of shopping bags hanging from her arms.
She looked around breathlessly for the penthouse buzzer and was intercepted by the commissionaire. She gave him her name and told him who she needed to see. He looked doubtful for a moment but led her to the penthouse lift—he had the grace to look apologetic when her name was received in the affirmative and the lift doors opened on cue.
‘Thirty-fifth floor is what you need, ma’am. Have a good evening!’
Alex pressed thirty-five and prepared to part company with her stomach—she didn’t like lifts, but this one turned out to be painless. And on the thirty-fifth floor it opened directly into Max Goodwin’s penthouse.
It wasn’t Max who greeted her, however, it was a man of about forty who said pleasantly, ‘Miss Hill, I believe? I’m Max’s domestic co-ordinator, Jake Frost. I’m afraid he’s running a few minutes late. Would you care to come through to the lounge and may I get you a drink? Oh—I’ll take the shopping bags.’
‘Thank you, thank you.’ She also divested herself of her jacket and scarf. ‘And just a soft drink would be nice—shopping can be exhausting and thirst-making.’
‘It would appear you’ve done quite a bit of it,’ Jake remarked as he relieved her of the carrier bags.
‘It’s not for me,’ Alex assured him. ‘I mean, it is, but I’ll be giving it all back. It’s not as if I’m ruinously spendthrift or anything like that.’ Her eyes twinkled suddenly behind her glasses. ‘Oh, dear. Does it really matter what people think of me?’
Jake Frost took a moment to take a more personal, less professional look at the new interpreter. He’d been told about her and not thought much one way or the other about it. Now he decided she was charming even if she was not at all the kind of woman Max Goodwin usually…
But what am I thinking? he wondered. This is business.
All the same it was with a genuine smile that he said, ‘I think it would be a shame not to enjoy it just a little bit, even if you are giving them all back.’
A few minutes later, Alex had a tall, frosted glass in her hand as she admired the view from Max Goodwin’s penthouse. It was a beautiful view over the river and the city in the last of the daylight as lights started to twinkle on and she identified some of the landmarks.
The lounge behind her was spacious and absolutely eye-catching. The carpet was sea green, the couches were covered in apricot cut velvet with poppy-red cushions and the occasional tables were enamelled black.
A magnificent Chinese cabinet in black-and-gold lacquer dominated one wall and on another a marvellous, almost full-length abstract painting took pride of place and brought a bouquet of beautiful, swirling colours to the room.
‘Hello, Alex,’ a voice said behind her, and she turned to see Max Goodwin stroll into the lounge.
He’d obviously just showered, his hair was still damp, and he was now wearing jeans and a sweater. He walked over to the bar and poured himself a drink.
‘Do sit down,’ he invited.
Jake came in as she took a seat. ‘I’ve rung ahead to say you might be a little late, Max. I’ve put the wine in a cooler bag for you—’ he indicated the bag on the bar ‘—and here are the flowers.’ He picked up a bunch and laid them back again. ‘So I’ll get going, if you don’t mind.’
‘Sure. Cheers!’ Max Goodwin saluted his domestic co-ordinator and sat down opposite Alex. ‘Well, how did you get on this afternoon?’
‘Fine,’ Alex said. ‘I think. But look, Mr Goodwin, if you’re running late again maybe we could find some other time for this?’
‘No, it doesn’t matter if I’m a bit late, there is no other time, and I’m determined to enjoy this drink.’
Alex shrugged. ‘I just wouldn’t like to make you late for your date.’
He looked amused. ‘My date, as you put it with a certain amount of disapproval, Miss Hill, is with my grandmother. She’s in a nursing home at the moment so the wine and the flowers are to cheer her up.’
‘Oh.’ Alex took her glasses off and polished them. Had she sounded disapproving and if so why? Had the subconscious impression been growing in her that Max Goodwin was something of a playboy? Helped along no doubt by the wine and the flowers, those good looks and that impressive physique and the fact that he wasn’t married. Along with, of course, that unexplained little trill of wariness she’d experienced at the interview this morning.
But assuming she’d misread that, wasn’t all the rest of it akin to judging a book by its cover?
‘I’m sorry,’ she said and smiled suddenly at him, ‘if I sounded disapproving. I, well, it seems one of my impressions of you is that you could be a bit of a playboy but I don’t really have any concrete evidence so I shall discard it.’
For a long moment he was speechless.
Alex glanced at her watch. ‘Should we begin the briefing?’ she suggested, her eyes a serious hazel behind her repositioned glasses, but with her lips still quirking.
Max
