didn’t give two hoots about what I thought.’
She thought through this and a slow tide of pink coloured her cheeks again as she wished fervently she could assure him she didn’t. But of course it was too late for that. She bit her lip.
‘I—’ she began tentatively. ‘That is…look—’ she gestured frustratedly ‘—it must be a “girl” thing. I mean, it must be the one area where I really don’t know what I’m doing.’ She paused and gathered composure. ‘I couldn’t help wondering if I’d ended up looking completely wrong,’ she told him tentatively.
‘No. The opposite.’
Alex gazed at him wordlessly for a long moment. She’d never thought much about men’s tailoring before and was not to know his suit was made from the finest wool/cashmere blend, but anyone could see it fitted perfectly. The smooth charcoal-grey fabric was beautifully stitched along the lapels and he wore a white shirt with a broad stone stripe and a tie with tiny emerald hexagon motifs. Gold cufflinks glinted at his wrists.
His shoes simply looked as if they had cost a fortune. And add to the whole his dark good looks…
Talk about stealing the show, she thought suddenly. Max Goodwin could be the one to do it. So why wasn’t he married? Why had he eluded it until his middle thirties and why was he not amused to discover he had a son?
‘Ms Hill?’
Alex came out of her thoughts with a little start. ‘Sorry. You said?’
‘I said nothing. You were looking at me as if I were—I’m not quite sure.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘Reprehensible? Or some kind of specimen that was completely foreign to you?’
Alex chuckled involuntarily, a little breath of sound. ‘That could be it. But—look, do you want me to race home and change?’
He took his time about replying, studying her a little askance as if he was going to take issue with what she’d said first, then he glanced at his watch and shook his head. ‘We don’t have the time anyway. We shall have to make do. Just ignore any excessive adulation that comes your way and—’
Alex broke in, ‘I am not a silly, impressionable young girl, Mr Goodwin!’
‘No. But you may never have appeared in public as if you could grace the cover of Vogue. Plus, it is only human nature for people to wonder if I’m bedding you as well as employing you!’ He looked irritated again. ‘What was I saying? Ah. Just ignore the adulation and don’t leave my side. By the way—’ he frowned as if at a sudden thought ‘—did you say you were a restraining influence?’
Alex nodded after a moment with just the hint of a smile in her eyes. ‘There was a much shorter skirt I could have had with this top.’
‘And Margaret would have been happy with it?’
Alex narrowed her eyes, suddenly sensing dangerous ground for some reason. ‘I can’t remember. I did try on an awful lot of clothes. Does it matter?’
‘No,’ Max Goodwin said somewhat grimly at the same time as he thought, I don’t believe you, Ms Hill. And what game is Margaret playing at? Pairing me off with this girl?
He paused his thoughts as it suddenly struck him that this Alex Hill was not only drop-dead gorgeous, she was refreshingly different and unusually engaging and in any other circumstances he would be intrigued by her on a different level altogether. A physical, personal level that had much more to do with those stunning legs and eyes, that lovely slim body rather than her fluency in Mandarin…
He shook his head and broke off that train of thought abruptly.
‘Oh.’ Alex swung her small bag on its long chain off her shoulder and opened it to produce Simon’s badge. ‘This should help.’ She pinned it onto her blouse. ‘Surely I look like part of the staff now?’
Max didn’t reply.
The cocktail party lasted for two hours.
Alex didn’t once leave Max Goodwin’s side and was happy not to do so because, as he’d predicted, she did attract some attention.
People, mostly men at first, were anxious to be introduced to her and were taken aback to discover she was actually working. Then, as she spoke her fluent Mandarin, many of the wives were also intrigued and struck up conversations with her.
After the first shock of it, she managed to handle it as briefly and courteously as possible and for the most part she clung stringently to her role and concentrated fiercely.
The one occasion that nearly tripped her up was, gallingly for Alex, exactly what Max had predicted might happen.
Paul O’Hara was introduced to her as an intern working in Max Goodwin’s office as part of his pursuit of a Master’s degree in Business Management. And, Max Goodwin had revealed with a grin, he was a cousin. He was about twenty-five, fair and pleasant-looking with humorous grey eyes. He also took one look at her and the stunned admiration that gripped him was all too clear to see.
But then—Max Goodwin had turned away by this time—a frown filled those grey eyes as Paul O’Hara looked from Alex to Max’s back, and his gaze came back to her with a clear question along the lines of, Are you his property?
Alex blushed and her lips parted, but how could you refute something like that in the middle of a cocktail party when you were working? What had it to do with a man she’d just been introduced to anyway?
So she tilted her chin imperiously and turned away.
It took an effort of will, though, to gather her concentration, but, fortunately, this first social event was less formal than what was to come and there were no welcome speeches, no ‘meaningful conversations outside the conference room’ for her to deal with.
It was mostly introductions as the South Pacific background enchanted many of the guests and obviously melted a lot of constraints. So it was a success, the opening cocktail party, a lively throng that was a blend of Chinese businessmen and the top management echelon from Goodwin Minerals, also, in many cases, accompanied by their stylish wives.
But as the last guests departed Alex looked wordlessly at Max Goodwin and drew a deep breath she let out very, very slowly.
His eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘That was quite a performance, Ms Hill. I salute you. But would I be right in thinking you’re exhausted?’
‘I feel as if I’ve been through a wringer,’ she said candidly.
‘Then go through to the green room,’ he instructed. ‘I’ll bring a restorative.’
Alex hesitated. ‘I should be going home.’
‘In a while. Here we go.’ He scooped two glasses of champagne from a passing waitress. ‘After you.’
She hesitated a moment longer, then did as she was told. This time, her second visit to the green room, she sat down on a settee and removed her shoes with a genuine sigh of relief. ‘Sorry,’ she murmured as she arched her feet and accepted her glass from him. ‘New shoes.’ She studied her feet, then lifted her head to him. ‘That was quite a party. I guess it’s going to take some deconstructing.’
‘Margaret
