idly to the large picture window at the other end of his office. It gave a splendid view of the Sydney Harbour Bridge and he spotted a group of climbers making their way to the top of the great coathanger arch for the view from up there. They had a great morning for it—blue sky, bright sunshine, no smog. Something he should do one day, Jake thought—climb every mountain…
The tune of the old song hummed through his mind. He’d mention it to the boffins in the back rooms later this morning—get the disc jockeys and the sound mixers listening to it for application possibilities. There had to be a recording of it in their music library. Could be some part of it they could work up for the older generations who didn’t like weird sound patterns for the call-tune on their cell-phones.
Now that he thought of it, that song came from the most popular musical of all time—The Sound of Music by Rodgers and Hammerstein. Big favourite with the oldies. Signature Sounds needed much more penetration on that market. Lot of spending power there not being tapped. Problem was, older people didn’t use the Internet as readily as the kids, and that was where the sales were made. But if they could be reached through the kids…he had to get his computer guys thinking laterally.
Yep—got to climb every mountain.
Julie Andrews, who played the nun-nanny in the movie, was dancing around in his mind when the knock on his office door came and Mel waltzed in. She halted and stared at his shoes on the desk, just as Julie Andrews would have undoubtedly done when she played Mary Poppins, nose turning up in disdain at such an offence to proper standards of behaviour.
Respect, respect, respect, he silently chanted as he lifted his feet and swung them in a slow arc to the floor, grinning at Mel as he did so. She might act like a nanny but she sure didn’t look like a nun! In fact, Julie Andrews was comprehensively wiped from his mind as the vision in front of him took instant priority.
‘Ve…ry nice!’ he remarked, taking in the artful combination of colours, the in-your-face display of feminine curves, and the tantalising eroticism of the long, swirling, almost see-through skirt. Very hot, he was thinking, but if he said that to Mel, she’d probably regard it as some form of sexual harassment and take him to the cleaners.
‘Good morning, Jake,’ she said primly, ignoring his comment on her new outfit.
She was probably ticking off in her mind that she’d met the image standard once again. Miss Efficiency never failed. But Jake had a challenge for her today.
‘It is, indeed, a good morning, Mel,’ he rolled out cheerfully. ‘I’ve had some ideas. Got your notebook with you?’ She was holding it in front of her like a shield, but Jake was just as good as she was at ignoring what he didn’t want to acknowledge.
‘Yes,’ she answered, refusing to be baited, as usual.
Always being correct was a shield, too. Jake dearly wanted to blow that shield apart and get to some really vulnerable part of Mel Rossi—revelations of the woman within. ‘Take a seat,’ he invited with relish.
Only bucket armchairs in blue-grey leather were available so she had to settle in one of them. Jake suspected she would have preferred a straight-backed wooden kitchen chair. Instead of relaxing into the chair, she perched on the front of the seat and crossed her legs so she could prop her notebook on her uppermost knee.
The fullness of her skirt fell on either side, and Jake discovered, with satisfaction, that he actually could see her legs through the floaty floral fabric. Not that he’d never seen them before. It was simply more alluring to view them this way.
‘I’m ready,’ she declared—a warning that he should stop looking at her legs and get on with business.
Jake lifted his gaze to hers and smiled. ‘Of course you are,’ he almost sang, overflowing with good humour. ‘Ready, willing and waiting for the challenges I’m about to put to you today.’
And his smile grew into a huge grin.
I hate him.
The thought burned through Merlina’s mind.
Jake Devila was never going to take her seriously as a person, or as a woman, or even as another human being who had feelings to be considered. He didn’t care about her. He simply amused himself playing with her.
It was just plain crazy to be sitting here with her heart thumping like mad and her stomach all gooey because he had looked her over with very male appreciation, and his dimples were winking at her. That grin on his face was a sure sign he had diabolical mischief on his mind.
He rolled his chair forwards and lay his forearms on the desk, leaning towards her, his eyes twinkling, and she waited like a besotted fool to hear his brilliant ideas, then ran around like a maniac to meet whatever challenges he threw at her today.
I’m just a puppet on a string dancing to his tune, she told herself. Which probably wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t the only tune in her life but it was. And she had to move on from it. Her sense of self-worth insisted it was the only way to survive as an individual. But right now he had her locked into this moment, almost breathless with anticipation for what would come next.
‘We need a think-tank meeting later this morning,’ he said. ‘All departments to attend. I want to throw around ideas for targeting the older market.’
It was a relief to hear him talking business. ‘What time for the meeting will I put on the memo?’ she asked matter-of-factly.
‘Eleven-fifteen. After morning coffee to get their brains active and before lunch so they can then chew over what’s been discussed,’ came the prompt reply.
‘Right!’ she said, making a note of the time.
‘Get that memo out first, Mel.’
‘Will do. Anything else before I attend to it?’
‘Yes. Yes, there is,’ he drawled, a wicked gleam in his eyes.
She concentrated on keeping her composure while waiting for him to elaborate.
He sat back in his chair, waving one hand casually as he said, ‘My grandfather’s birthday is coming up.’
So is mine, she thought.
‘He’ll be eighty.’
I’ll be thirty.
‘I want to do something special for him.’
He paused, watching her like a hawk, waiting to see which way its prey would jump.
Merlina patiently returned his gaze with limpid eyes, deliberately emptied of all emotion. She wasn’t going to let him feed off her this morning! However, he paused for so long, she finally said, ‘Are you asking me for suggestions?’
He laughed. ‘Oh, I doubt very much you’d be tuned into what entertains my grandfather, Mel. He still drinks champagne at breakfast. In fact, when I was a little boy, he told me to call him Pop instead of Grandpa because he was such an expert at popping corks.’
Her tightly guarded mind had a malfunction and lost control of her tongue, letting wayward words roll off it. ‘Perhaps you also have an equally pertinent reason for calling me Mel instead of Merlina.’
‘Lethal
