of the gentlemen.
‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘She is.’
‘Better than Dickie’s secretary. More intelligent. More stylish, too. I hope you’re paying her well. You wouldn’t want to lose her.’
‘I’m afraid that might not be my call. Kathryn’s engaged to be married.’
‘So? Married women work all the time. She doesn’t look the type to stay home and play happy families. She has too much chutzpah!’
Too much of everything, Hugh wanted to say as he stared at her once more.
‘Really, Max?’ he said instead, somewhat impatiently. ‘How can you possibly glean the measure of a woman’s chutzpah from across the room?’
‘I was talking to her earlier and happened to make some critical remark about the recent rise in interest rates. She took me to task and told me in no uncertain terms that if I thought the reserve bank was wrong, I didn’t understand the effects of inflation on the economy. She didn’t pander to my position, my sex or my age. She said it as it is, without fear or favour.’
‘Kathryn does have a tendency to speak her mind,’ Hugh said drily.
Max chuckled in his beard. ‘Sounds like just what the doctor ordered for you, young man.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning I would imagine that the majority of the opposite sex panders to you something rotten.’
‘That is a burden I have to bear,’ Hugh remarked in droll tones. ‘If you’ll excuse me, Max, I really should mingle.’
It was a full hour later before Hugh accompanied the last of the directors to the lifts. When he returned to the reception room, the caterers had almost finished cleaning up and Kathryn was frowning down at the screen on her mobile phone.
‘That’s just so typical,’ she muttered.
‘Something wrong?’ he asked.
Her head whipped up, her eyes showing a most uncharacteristic consternation at finding him there.
‘No, not really. Daryl was going to take me out to dinner tonight. But…um…something has come up and he can’t.’
Hugh couldn’t imagine anything making him break a dinner date with Kathryn. Not if he was assured of having her for afters. Which her fiancé was. They did live together, after all.
‘In that case, why don’t I take you out to dinner?’ he said, whilst thinking he was a masochistic fool.
Her eyes rounded as her finely arched brows lifted sky-wards.
Hugh could appreciate her surprise. He’d never offered to take her to dinner before. Or even lunch. The occasional coffee break in the café on the ground floor was the extent of their socialising outside the office. Other than last year’s Christmas party, of course, which had been held in the ballroom of the Regency Hotel.
What a wretchedly frustrating night that had been. He could not stand seeing Kathryn with that good-looking smoothie she was engaged to. In the end, he’d zeroed in on the second sexiest girl in the room, the newest in the stable of attractive female lawyers his father invariably hired. He’d left the party earlier than he should have and taken Kandi— a name more suited to a hooker than a lawyer, in his opinion— to a room upstairs for the night.
And, whilst Kandi had proved to him that she would probably be a success in either profession, Hugh had not asked her out again.
That was the norm with him these days. One date per woman was all he could tolerate, his rampant desire for Kathryn having temporarily spoiled him for any other female.
‘Don’t tell me you’re not hungry,’ he jumped in before she could make some feeble excuse. ‘You didn’t eat a single bite of finger food that I could see.’
She shrugged. ‘I’m not much into finger food.’
‘I have to agree with you on that score. I prefer to eat sitting down. Come on. I’ll take you to Neptune’s.’
‘Neptune’s! But that’s one of the most expensive restaurants in Sydney.’
His smile was wry. ‘I think I can afford it, Kathryn.’
‘But don’t you have to book in advance? I’ve heard it’s very difficult to get a table there.’
‘Not so difficult on a Thursday night. And not if I ring now. It’s only half-past six.’ He didn’t like to say that the maître d’ at Neptune’s would find him a table at any hour on any night, a perk of being a billionaire.
Which he was already, courtesy of his paternal grandmother, who, not impressed with her own son’s string of wives, had willed her personal fortune in a trust for her grandson. By the time Hugh gained control of this trust at the age of thirty, his grandmother’s superbly invested millions had more than quadrupled. Since then, under his own management, and despite some years of economic upheaval in the stock market, his personal fortune had increased, which gave him considerable satisfaction.
Hugh knew people thought him lazy. But he wasn’t. He could work hard, when required. He worked very hard at doing things he enjoyed, like golf and sailing and, yes, sex.
Or he had, till recently.
It frustrated him to death that his extremely enjoyable lifestyle was being ruined by one very irritating female who couldn’t even be persuaded to go to dinner with him!
Because she was going to say no. He could see it in her eyes.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, confirming his guess. ‘But I don’t think that’s a good idea.’
Damn it, but he really wanted her to say yes to him. Just this once! Even if it was only for a meal.
‘It’s not unusual for a grateful boss to take his PA to dinner, Kathryn,’ he said in a brisk, businesslike fashion. ‘I’m sure your fiancé wouldn’t mind.’
Oh, yes, he would, Kathryn thought.
But she didn’t like to say as much, didn’t like to confess that Daryl had this jealous thing about her working for Hugh.
Kathryn was tempted to go, seriously tempted.
Neptune’s! She’d never been there. She’d never dream of going to somewhere so expensive; eating in five-star restaurants had never fitted into her budget. Daryl knew better than to take her to a restaurant which wasn’t bring-your-own, with reasonably priced meals. Tonight, they’d been planning to go to their local Chinese.
Kathryn suspected that Daryl’s last-minute letting her down to go out drinking with his mates was a kind of punishment for her coming home late last night. He could be petty at times. And quite vindictive. It was a trait that worried her sometimes.
What would he do if she actually went to dinner with her boss, to a place like Neptune’s? He probably wouldn’t talk to her for a week. Or make love to her. He’d give her the cold-shoulder treatment, knowing full well how
