She had assumed he didn’t feel his personal life was any of her business.
‘You’re right to be surprised by our presence here.’ Jarrod’s mother spoke the words through chilly lips. ‘We usually delegate such tasks as shopping, but sometimes they are unavoidable.’
‘We won’t be here long. Just taking care of one essential matter,’ Jarrod’s father added.
‘I rather enjoy the shopping experience.’ Jarrod made the observation in a mild tone, but there were shutters down over his face.
For some reason Molly couldn’t help edging closer to her boss’s side.
‘We’re here on business.’ His mother made the announcement as though it meant everything. ‘We’re to be guests of the king of an island country.’
She named the country, a small but beautiful paradise Molly had only read about and seen in travel documentaries, and went on.
‘We came to collect a gift we’ve had handcrafted. The king may agree to import our Road Ten furnishings into the country. It’s necessary to impress him.’
‘Good luck with that.’ Jarrod said it amenably enough. When Molly shifted slightly at his side, he forced a smile to his face. ‘We’ve been remiss in the introductions. This is my personal assistant, Molly Taylor. Molly, my parents, Stuart and Elspeth Banning.’
‘Hello.’ Molly offered her best professional smile.
Jarrod’s father dipped his head infinitesimally. His mother didn’t even bother with that.
When his parents all but snubbed his PA, a growl came out of Jarrod’s throat before he could stop it.
He would tolerate his parents’ coldness towards him. Hell, that had been his lot since the day he’d been born. But they could be polite to Molly, and if not…
‘Perhaps I should walk on ahead, leave you to say your hellos.’ Molly’s pointy chin went up. Strands of brown hair had escaped her ponytail and blew softly against her neck and cheek in the mild, warm breeze. She chased them with her fingertips.
A girl in clunky shoes and an odd, wraparound top and A-line skirt. He hadn’t liked hearing Allonby’s offer to her. He didn’t like his parents staring through her either. ‘No need, Molly. We’re done here.’
He turned to his parents one last time. ‘You’ll excuse us. Enjoy your time out of the country.’
Before Molly could more than blink, he hustled her away. He’d wondered if his parents had heard the rumours. He might have asked, but somehow he doubted they’d have remained silent on the topic if they knew something. They’d probably been out of the country too much recently to hear anything.
If they did hear something, and dared to raise the topic with him, he would soon set them straight that his business was fine.
He and Molly reached the outside of their office building. He came to a halt. ‘Time for you to get that dress.’
‘Yes.’ She clutched her handbag in her fingers.
Was she worried she might lose the contents? Or lose his account card?
‘When I return I’ll get straight to work on the spreadsheet.’ She hurried off into the crowd.
Jarrod stepped into the building, returned to their office suite and made the obligatory phone calls. They netted exactly the results he had expected—namely none.
It galled him to feel his business was even slightly at the mercy of someone’s whispered words. The sooner he and Molly got out there amongst it to set things to rights, the happier he would be. He would talk up business, while Molly spouted facts and figures and information she stored in vast quantities in that geek-girl head of hers.
On these thoughts, Jarrod immersed himself in investment strategy. If once or twice he paused to wonder how long Molly would be, or what her dress would look like, he quickly pushed the thoughts aside.
* * *
‘I’m back.’ Molly spoke the unnecessary words in a sudden fit of nerves as she reentered her office space almost an hour after leaving Jarrod outside the building. She wished she could ask about his parents, about that chilly meeting earlier, but she doubted Jarrod would welcome any questions.
Maybe the couple warmed up when they weren’t in public. ‘I tried not to take too much time. How did the phone calls go? And has anyone else phoned for appointments or anything?’
He sat behind his desk, an array of printed reports spread before him as he clicked through various screens on his computer. At her words he got to his feet and strode towards her. ‘The phone calls went predictably. No one would reveal anything. There have been no other requests for appointments. You got all you needed?’
His gaze shifted to the bag in her hands, and Molly wished she hadn’t spoken at all. She wanted to forget about tonight until she absolutely had to face it. Maybe by then her nerves would be under control and her defences back in place, as she needed them to be.
What if the event was really swanky and she did or said something stupid—stepped on the hem of someone’s designer gown and ripped it right off, like you saw in the movies?
‘Perhaps there won’t be any more damage from the rumours, and, yes, I got a dress.’ And at a reasonable price that wouldn’t make her cringe too much to know he’d paid for it. ‘Right. Well, the first client isn’t due for fifteen minutes, and I’d best study that phone-system so it can’t spring any more surprises on either of us.’
They’d had enough of accidental eavesdropping for the day. ‘But I’ll do it quickly and then get onto the spreadsheet, unless you have other instructions for me?’ She hovered beside the desk and wished he would go back to his.
‘No other instructions for now.’ Jarrod gestured to the bag in her hand. ‘Would you like to hang up your purchase? I have spare hangers in my dressing-room closet.’
‘No!’ She tried to pull herself together. ‘I mean, no thanks. The dress looks quite crushproof, and, if it isn’t, I’ll iron it tonight.’
She didn’t want to go into the inner sanctum of Jarrod’s dressing room. That would require her to walk through his gym room and past his bathroom, which she had avoided doing for the past three years.
Her boss often came to work early, exercised and showered and dressed right here. Molly knew this from the office’s alarm time-records, and because she had glimpsed the rooms now and then when he had his rear-office door open. She didn’t want to get any closer or more knowledgeable, didn’t want to visualise him working out, or under that spray of water.
She had enough trouble to deal with! ‘I have to get moving. There’s a lot to do this afternoon. Seventy-two pages of PDF manual, the spreadsheet, your appointments, plus any other work you want me to do.’
‘And despite today’s disruptions I have investments to manage, which will result in that handing off in about—’ he glanced at the clock on the wall ‘—an hour from now, if I can have my first appointment back out the door in half that time.
‘Good work, Molly. The dress,
