no doubt thought he was being considerate, allaying a sweet innocent nobody’s fears of seduction at the hands of her boss. When it was already too late for that. Much too late.
All he’d done was insult her. Making love with Cleopatra was one thing but making love with Philly Summers was never going to happen.
How reassuring! He’d made it clear that the man she couldn’t stop fantasising about had her pegged around at the level of the woman least likely. How flattering—and yet here she was, supposed to feel relieved.
And all he’d done was to reinforce her resolve not to reveal her secret. Given his attitude he would be less impressed with the revelation. Clearly he would be embarrassed at the thought—probably even humiliated. Well, she would save them both that. She would forget it had ever happened. He need never know.
But if she became pregnant?
She shivered. She didn’t want to go down that path. It was altogether too exciting and yet too terrifying. And the chances were so slim. How many couples got pregnant the first time they had unprotected sex anyway? It was hardly likely to be a consideration.
She sighed, fed up with both shopping and with the direction her thoughts were going. Spending two days in Damien’s company would be bad enough. But to spend one night away—that could only be worse. She would have to do her best to remain cool, aloof and totally professional and with any luck he’d treat her with his usual professional disregard. Then in two weeks she’d have her period and there’d never be a reason she’d have to reveal a thing to him.
And in time she might even forget about what had happened in the boardroom, might stop thinking about the way his body had rippled in the slatted moonlight as he’d driven into her, the way he’d felt inside, possessing her.
Forget that night?
That was a laugh. There was no way she was ever going to be able to forget that.
She was late. The plane was due to take off in less than half an hour and she was nowhere to be seen. She couldn’t have changed her mind—he’d arranged everything. The last time he’d spoken to her she’d even admitted that the live-in nurse Enid had organised was wonderful and that her mother was totally relaxed about the whole arrangement.
Not so Ms Summers. He could still see the nervous pinch to her lips, the strain in her face so evident whenever they’d discussed the upcoming trip. What was really bothering her? She couldn’t be worried about him coming on to her. Hadn’t he assured her this was purely a business trip? She wasn’t his type for a start. Sure, she was great at her job but he had no more intention of seducing her than he would ask someone to marry him. It just wasn’t going to happen.
In any event, he preferred his women lush, sexy and temporary, like that woman on Saturday night—her outfit accommodating, her attitude willing.
Though she’d proved far too temporary for his liking.
Who the hell was she anyway? Two days of scouring staff lists and making discreet enquiries had got him absolutely nowhere. His mystery woman remained that, a mystery. All he had was the memory of her, her fingers clutched behind his head, her tight breasts spilling out and her body open to him. His body responded to the images in his mind and he cursed low and rough as he helped himself to a cup of espresso.
He hadn’t had enough of her, not by a long shot, but thinking about her now wasn’t going to help him.
He lifted his head, scouring the airline club lounge once more as he emptied a stick of sugar into his cup but there was no sign of a sandy-coloured ponytail, no thick tortoiseshell glasses in evidence anywhere.
Damn, where the hell could she be?
A blonde in a pale green trouser suit approached the coffee station and he moved away to make room for her.
‘I was wondering when you were going to get here.’
He swung back, coffee sloshing over the side of his cup. He steadied it with his other hand. His brain wasn’t so easy to get a handle on. Ms Summers?
Sure enough it was her hazel eyes staring up at him, but they looked different. She looked different. He blinked.
‘I booked one of the offices so we could go over the paperwork—just this way.’
He followed her into the small office, wondering just what had happened to his little brown mouse. She still smelled the same, the now familiar apricot scent wafting freshly in her wake. It was her looks that had changed. The long-line jacket sat over a fitted white shell top and seemingly floated behind her as she walked in matching trousers that weren’t tight yet still hinted at womanly curves below.
Her hair, uncharacteristically worn down, was shoulder-length and feathered at the ends and it didn’t look the colour of sand any more. It looked more like honey, honey sprinkled with crystals of sugar, the ends swishing and flicking with her motion. And what had she done with her glasses?
He was seated at the desk before he could talk. ‘You look—different,’ he said at last.
She smiled, almost as if self-conscious, as her gaze flicked over the outfit. ‘I hope it’s appropriate. I know business is a little more relaxed up in Queensland.’
He nodded his approval as his eyes slowly moved up her body. She fingered the ends of her hair and caught him looking. ‘Oh, that. I was due for a cut so I let them talk me into something extra this time. But I didn’t use your money. I paid for the hair myself.’
‘What happened to your glasses?’
‘Contact lenses. I lost one and had to get a new prescription made up. Still, I don’t wear them as much as I should…’ She hesitated. ‘What’s wrong?’
He realised he was staring. He coughed as he pulled his eyes away, lifting his laptop case to the table. ‘Nothing,’ he said with a shake of his head. ‘We’ll be boarding soon. We’d better get on with it.’
It was time well spent on the ground and in the air. By the time they’d arrived at Coolangatta Airport they’d thoroughly reviewed their potential client’s specifications and finessed their plan of attack. Damien was feeling more and more confident even though he knew there was still a mountain of work ahead and a myriad of meetings with Palmcorp, their lawyers and financiers. But they could do it. He’d made the right choice in bringing her. They made a good team.
This was Damien at his best. In the large meeting room at Palmcorp’s offices on the Gold Coast, Philly listened to his spiel, watched him charm, tease and manoeuvre the two directors and get them thinking his way. It was like watching a master at work.
No wonder he’d built his business to be the success it was. When he spoke he made you believe, the passion for his work and his products coming to the fore.
He held them in the palm of his hand.
It was a new side to Damien, one she hadn’t witnessed before. Now his obsession with perfection, with driving his staff hard, made some sort of sense. He couldn’t be that passionate about his business if the people who worked for him gave him less than their best.
His strong, deep voice flowed over the assembled group, his expressive hands adding gestures for emphasis where required, addressing them at their level, not preaching, not patronising, but
