out the back way. He unlocked the luxury BMW he’d leased yesterday for the time he’d be here, and sat for a few moments, barely seeing the charming row of Paddington’s little terraced houses as Kylie Minogue sang on the stereo.
‘What have you got me into, Bry?’ he said, staring at the darkening clouds. He’d already injected a six-figure lump sum into Bry’s business account a couple of years back. A loan, Bry had said. Where the hell had that money gone?
After collecting the keys from Security at Bryce’s apartment yesterday he’d driven to the office and taken a quick look at the figures. Then wished to blazes he hadn’t. A decision to shut up shop meant six employees would be out of a job, a situation that didn’t sit well with him. After all, turning struggling businesses around was his forte.
The million-dollar question was did he want to spend the time and energy, not to mention yet more of his own capital that the agency would need, here? In Sydney?
He’d grown up here. Lived with his grandmother through most of his adolescence. He’d been a mistake, he’d been told at age five, and he’d never been allowed to forget it. Until Grandma had put her steel-capped foot down and insisted he grow up in a stable environment with her and his father’s younger brother while his parents chased storms around the US.
Eventually they’d stopped coming home altogether. The last time he’d seen them was at his grandmother’s funeral ten years ago. He had no idea where they were now and he cared even less.
That was what he reminded himself as a chill seemed to wrap around his bones despite the car’s warmth. ‘I’d have come back sooner, Bry, if I’d known.’
But they’d never been close. Damon had his own life. If it wasn’t his Internet business it was deciding where his next thrill-seeking BASE jump would take him. Parachuting off buildings, bridges and mountains—the ultimate extreme sport and the only way to live.
So now he’d inherited a business he didn’t want but felt a familial obligation to put right. And an unwanted attraction for a woman who couldn’t stand the sight of him.
Yet she’d been all over him like a red-hot rash on Saturday night. Hadn’t been able to get enough of him. Had the fact that he’d taken a business call instead of engaging in some sort of post-coital conversation done it?
No, her hostility towards him was all about the business. He’d usurped her authority. And she was right—pleasurable as it had been, Saturday night was of no consequence. As she was the centre’s most senior staff member, he needed her support if he was going to keep Aussie Essential. Somehow he had to get Kate the employee onside.
Somewhere away from the office environment might work. A peace offering. Food. Did she like pizza? he wondered.
Kate could see the door from her desk and let out a relieved sigh when she saw Damon Gillespie’s broad shoulders as he exited the room and headed to the rear of the building. Could the day get any worse? She closed her eyes. Yeah, it could have been worse.
He could have recognised her.
Bryce’s nephew.
Perhaps her soon-to-be boss, if his take-charge attitude was any indication. A man she despised for all the right reasons—a selfish jet-setter about to snatch the manager’s job out from under her.
So why did the sight of him melt her insides to butter? Why couldn’t she get over him? The man who’d just taken charge wasn’t the fantasy lover she’d had on Saturday night. Somehow she had to separate her professional and personal life, which had suddenly become hopelessly entangled.
She rubbed a hand over her throbbing head. Despite his lackadaisical lifestyle she had a feeling Damon Gillespie was a very astute man—how long would it be before he discovered who she was?
CHAPTER THREE
KATE was about to microwave last night’s left-over chicken soup for tea, hoping she could somehow manage to put something in her stomach, when her phone rang.
‘Kate.’
‘Yes…’ She couldn’t say anything more because her heart leapt into her throat at the sound of his already familiar voice. It was as if he were right there, murmuring in her ear. She could almost feel his breath on her skin; the heat seemed to shimmer through the connection. What did he want? she thought distractedly. Ah…he’d said he’d be contacting her about the list of people who’d attended the funeral.
‘How’s the cold?’
‘Improving.’ Actually she felt much better after an extra dose of pills and a couple of hours’ nap. She glanced at the clock and her voice held an accusatory tone as she said, ‘It’s half past eight, Mr Gillespie. Work’s over.’
‘I know, I meant to call earlier. I hope you’re hungry.’
Her stomach churned. Surely he wasn’t inviting her out for dinner? She looked down at her worn black tracksuit pants under the oversize orange nightshirt, the fluffy pink slippers she’d meant to replace last winter. ‘No, I’m not. I take it you’re ringing about the list,’ she hurried on. ‘I’ll bring it tomorr—’
‘You have to eat, Kate. Did you have lunch?’
‘No, I…’ She was interrupted—no, saved—by the sound of knocking at her door and breathed a little sigh of relief at the interruption. ‘I have to go, I have a visitor, I’ll ring you back in a bit.’ When it was late and she could lie and say she’d already eaten. If she rang back at all…
She dropped the phone onto its base, hurried through the living room and dragged open the door. ‘Oh…’
Damon Gillespie. With his mobile still attached to his ear. Wearing khaki cargo pants and a white T-shirt tonight and balancing a pizza box and a small package in his spare hand. He disconnected the phone with his thumb, slipped it into his pocket, all without taking his eyes off hers. ‘Hi.’
His gaze flicked down to the fluffy slippers and her toes curled up in embarrassment. And she’d been too distracted to slip something over her nightshirt; her braless breasts—the breasts he’d handled with such expertise—jutted out at him. ‘I wasn’t expecting anyone,’ she muttered.
His eyes flashed with amusement. ‘You were keen enough to answer the door a second or two ago.’
‘No… I thought it was my sister…’ But he saw through her, she just knew it. She didn’t want to share pizza with him, she didn’t want him in her home, checking out her state of dishabille, but what choice did she have? Too late to dive for cover now. She turned away and began heading back to the kitchen. ‘Come in, but I’m telling you now I couldn’t eat pizza if my life depended on it.’
‘Ah, but you haven’t tried Dominic Amigo’s Gourmet Pizza, have you?’
Her brows rose. ‘Have you? I thought you just rolled into town?’
‘Sandy recommended it when I rang this afternoon for your contact details and we got talking about local restaurants. You were with a customer at the time.’
‘Remind me to thank her,’ she murmured as she pulled plates from her cupboard and searched out a spatula. She tried to ignore the pizza’s tempting aroma, but it did smell good and her
