‘flu. I suppose you’ll get it next,’ he snapped accusingly, before going into his office and closing the door firmly behind him.
Considering he had more or less told her she was incompetent she was surprised that the prospect of her being off work should bother him. What a bad-tempered old man he was!
Tears filled her eyes, and she buried her face in her hands as she wept. She had been trying so hard to please him, had thought she was succeeding, and with a few biting words he had shown her exactly what he thought of her efforts.
‘Is there anything wrong?’
She looked up with a start, to find herself looking straight at Gideon Maitland, the dark brown suit and cream shirt he wore seeming to make his tan appear even darker. She gulped as he came into the office, reaching frantically into her handbag for a tissue to blow her nose, wiping away the telltale tears at the same time.
‘ ‘Flu?’ he enquired softly, his voice as rich and deep as she remembered.
He was all just as she remembered him, every virile inch of him!
And once again she was making an idiot of herself. Why couldn’t she just act normally about him for once? ‘I—er—no.’ She took her compact out of her bag, viewing her reflection in the mirror with distaste. Heavens, no wonder he thought she had a cold, with her puffed eyes and red nose that was exactly what it looked like! She hastily closed the compact, knowing she couldn’t make the necessary repairs to her face in front of this man. ‘I think I must have had something in my eye,’ she invented.
Gideon Maitland’s mouth twisted, as if he knew very well that the ‘something’ had been tears. ‘Is James back from lunch yet?’
She nodded, glad he didn’t pursue the subject of her tears. ‘He came back several minutes ago,’ she confirmed.
‘I see.’ He pursed his lips. ‘And would he be the—er—reason you had something in your eye?’ Dark eyebrows rose over light grey eyes.
Colour flooded her cheeks. ‘I—er—Yes.’ The question came as too much of a surprise for her to prevaricate.
His handsome mouth twisted with humour. ‘His lunch obviously didn’t sweeten his temper.’
Laura licked her lips nervously. What was she supposed to say to a comment like that! ‘I wouldn’t know, Mr Maitland,’ she replied demurely.
He didn’t seem surprised that she knew his name; he leaned back easily against her desk, his arms folded across his chest. ‘That’s very loyal of you,’ he drawled. ‘Your lunch obviously agreed with you.’
‘I didn’t—–’ She bit her lip, her lashes fluttering up, only to lower quickly again as her green eyes clashed with clear grey ones.
‘Didn’t what?’ Gideon Maitland probed sharply.
‘Nothing,’ she shook her head. ‘I’ll tell Mr Courtney you’re here,’ and she moved to press the intercom.
Long tapered fingers came out to stop her. ‘Didn’t what?’ Gideon Maitland requested firmly.
Laura extracted her hand from his, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest from the contact. ‘I—I haven’t had time for lunch. You see—–’
He stood up. ‘Go and have some now,’ he ordered briskly.
‘There’s really no need—–’
‘There’s every need, Miss Jamieson,’ he told her coldly. ‘Lack of food is apt to lower your resistance to infection. The last thing James needs is to have no secretary at all.’
That put her firmly in her place—even an incompetent secretary was better than none at all! ‘I’ll go now,’ she said jerkily. ‘If you’ll just explain to Mr Courtney …’
He nodded curtly and moved impatiently to the door that connected her office to James Courtney’s. ‘I’ll do that,’ he told her abruptly.
She grabbed her handbag and almost ran out of the office, having once again found Gideon Maitland completely overwhelming.
Her hand trembled as she sat alone in the canteen drinking her coffee. There had been a coldness about him, a bitter twist to his beautiful mouth. And no wonder, he probably still missed his wife very much.
And Petra Wilde? Well, he was a man, she shrugged, and men had—appetites, especially if they had been married. Her cheeks coloured delicately as she realised her thoughts had taken her to Gideon Maitland’s bed. A shiver of delight ran down her spine as she imagined those strong, sensitive hands making love to her.
Heavens, she was acting like an infatuated adolescent, fantasising about the latest pop or film-star! But it was more than that, she knew it was. She felt so attracted to him, so aware of him, as if she had always been waiting for such a man. A pity he hadn’t always been waiting for a redheaded, green-eyed nineteen-year-old!
It was good that she could still laugh at herself, as no doubt Gideon Maitland was laughing at her. He was experienced enough with women to know what her reaction to him meant. If only she could stop this childish trembling every time he came near her, and the way she stuttered and stumbled over her words was so juvenile.
She didn’t even know if he was still in with James Courtney when she returned from eating her sandwich lunch, as the walls of the inner office were soundproofed. Her own office still contained the aroma of the cheroot he had been smoking, and the tangy smell was pleasant to the senses, his aftershave masculine and spicy.
Was there nothing she disliked about the man! Yes, of course there was, she told herself crossly, she just didn’t know him well enough to say what they were. His eyes were cold, for one thing, cold and assessing, and he had a cynical twist to his lips constantly, mockery or boredom seeming to be his two main expressions.
She shouldn’t be thinking about him now, she should be thinking of the work she still had to do before she could go home tonight. And goodness knows, there was enough of it!
She was pounding away on her typewriter when the communicating door opened and Gideon Maitland strolled out of the main office. Laura sighed heavily as she hit the wrong key. Her typing teacher would have a fit if she could see the mess she was making of her work today—first James Courtney unnerving her and now Gideon Maitland! She back-spaced and corrected her mistake, half listening to the two men’s conversation without really meaning to. But when Gideon Maitland mentioned her name she found herself more than half listening.
‘I’ll see your Miss Jamieson on Monday morning, then,’ he drawled.
‘First thing,’ the other man nodded.
That perfect mouth twisted derisively. ‘I’m sure Miss Jamieson is never late.’
Chilling blue eyes swept over her rigid figure as she could only make a pretence of typing. ‘Are you, Gideon?’ James Courtney clipped. ‘I can’t say keeping an eye on Miss Jamieson’s timekeeping has exactly occupied any of my thoughts.’
Her mouth tightened as the two men seemed to taunt her without actually talking to her directly. And what did Gideon Maitland mean, she would see him on Monday morning?
‘I’m
