big for my boots, I know where to come to be whipped back into shape.’
She gave him a quelling look. ‘You’ve come to see Michael. Just follow me into his office.’
The devil danced in his eyes. ‘Only if you swish your tail at me.’
She glared back. ‘Stop playing with me. I’m not going there with you. Not ever,’ she added emphatically.
He was totally unabashed. ‘All work, no play—got to say you’re safe with Mickey on that score.’
Safe? The word niggled at Elizabeth’s mind as she carried the tray to Michael’s door. Why was Harry so sure she was safe with his brother? She didn’t want to be safe. She wanted to be desired so much, there would be no distance left between them.
Harry bounded past her, opened the door and commanded his brother’s attention. ‘Hi, Mickey! I held up the coffee train to have one made for myself. Have a few things to discuss with you. Here’s Elizabeth with it now.’
‘No problem,’ Michael answered, smiling at her as she sailed in with the tray.
She hugged the smile to her heart. Michael was the man of true gold. Harry was all glitter. And she hated him calling his brother Mickey. It was rotten, schoolboy stuff—Mickey Finn—linking him to a spiked drink, and totally inappropriate for the position he now held. No dignity in it at all. No respect.
‘Thanks, Elizabeth,’ Michael said warmly as she unloaded the tray, setting out the two coffees and muffin on his desk. ‘Table booked?’
‘Yes.’
‘What table?’ Harry asked, instantly putting her on edge again.
‘It’s Elizabeth’s birthday. I’m taking her out to lunch.’
‘A … ha!’
Her spine crawled at the wealth of significance she heard in Harry’s voice. If he was about to make fun of the situation … She picked up the emptied tray and swung around to shoot him a killing look.
He lifted his hand in a salute, pretending to plead for a truce between them but his eyes glittered with mocking amusement. ‘Happy birthday, dear Elizabeth.’
‘Thank you,’ she grated out, and swiftly left the two men together for their discussions, closing the door to give them absolute privacy and herself protection from that man.
It was difficult to concentrate on work. She tried, but the clock kept ticking on—eleven o’clock, eleven-thirty, twelve. Lucy hadn’t dropped in and Harry was still with Michael. Anything could have happened with Lucy. It frequently did. She might not make it into the office at all, which would be a relief, no chance of a meeting with Michael. Harry was the main problem. She wouldn’t put it past him to invite himself to her birthday lunch. If he did, would Michael put him off?
He had to.
No way could a romantic mood develop between them if Harry was present. He would spoil everything.
A knock on her door cut off her inner angst. Elizabeth looked up to see the door opening and Lucy’s head poking around it.
‘Okay to come in?’
Her stomach cramped with nervous tension at the late visit but it was impossible to say anything but ‘Yes.’
Lucy bounced in, exuding effervescence as she always did. Today she was dressed in a white broderie anglaise outfit: a little frilly skirt that barely reached midthigh, an off-the-shoulder peasant blouse, a wide tan belt slung around her hips, lots of wooden beads dangling from her neck, wooden bangles travelling up one forearm and tan sandals that were strapped up to mid-calf. Her long blond hair was piled up on top of her head with loose strands escaping everywhere. She looked like a trendy model who could put anything together and look good.
‘Ooh … I love the hair, Ellie,’ she cooed, hitching herself onto the edge of Elizabeth’s desk, just as Harry had, which instantly provoked the thought they would make a good pair.
‘It’s very sexy,’ Lucy raved on. ‘Gives you that just-out-of-bed tumbled look and the colour really, really suits you. It complements the clothes I picked out for you brilliantly. I have to say you look absolutely marvellous.’ Her lovely sherry-brown eyes twinkled with delight. ‘Now tell me you feel marvellous, too.’
Lucy’s smile was so infectious, she had to smile back. ‘I’m glad I made the change. How was your weekend?’
‘Oh, so-so.’ She waved her hand airily then pulled a woeful grimace. ‘But I’ve had the most terrible morning.’
Out of the corner of her eye Elizabeth caught the opening of the door to Michael’s office. Tension whipped along her nerves. Was it Harry coming out or both men?
Lucy rattled out her list of woes, her hands making a host of dramatic gestures. ‘A body was buried in the wrong plot and I had to deal with that. Then a call came in that someone was interfering with a grave. I had to go out to the cemetery and investigate, but that wasn’t too bad. It was only a bereaved husband digging a hole on top of the grave to put in potting soil so he could plant his wife’s favourite rose. Nice, really. The worst thing was a dog running amok in the memorial garden and knocking off some of the angels’ heads. I had to collect them, load them into the van, and now I have to find someone who can stick them back on again. You wouldn’t believe how heavy those angels’ heads are.’
‘Angels’ heads …’ It was Michael’s voice, sounding totally stunned.
It jerked Lucy’s attention to him. ‘Oh, wow!’ she said, looking Michael up and down, totally uninhibited about showing how impressed she was with him.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath.
‘Are you Ellie’s boss?’ The question popped out with barely a pause.
Elizabeth opened her eyes again to see Michael shaking his head as though bringing himself out of a daze, and Harry behind his shoulder, looking straight at her with a sharp intensity in his bedroom blue eyes she had never seen before. It gave her the weird feeling he was tunnelling into her mind. She quickly dropped her gaze.
‘Yes. Yes, I am,’ Michael finally answered. ‘And you are?’
‘Lucy Flippence. Ellie’s sister. I work in cemetery administration so I often have to deal with angels.’
‘I see,’ he said, looking at Lucy as though she was a heavenly apparition.
She hopped off her perch on the desk and crossed the floor to him with her hand extended. ‘Pleased to meet you. Okay if I call you Michael?’
‘Delighted,’ he said, taking her hand and holding on to it as he slowly turned to make the last introduction. ‘This is my brother, Harry.’
Elizabeth fiercely willed Lucy to find Harry more attractive. No such luck! Her hand was left in Michael’s snug grasp. She raised her other in blithe greeting. ‘Hi, Harry!’ It was tossed at him in a kind of bubbly dismissal, which meant in Lucy’s mind he didn’t really count.
‘Charmed,’ Harry purred at her.
It
