“You’ve made that very clear.” He took a step closer. “But we really do need to talk. It’s important. We can do it privately, or we can do it right here—”
Just then Gemma stuck her head around the doorway. “Ian, there you are. Would you be a lamb and carry some supplies to the closet for me? The boxes are quite heavy.”
“Yes, of course.” He gave Gemma a thinly-veiled glance of irritation and turned back to Natalie. “We’ll talk another time, Miss Dashwood.”
Not if I can help it, you smarmy jerk, she thought as she watched him leave.
A few minutes later Gemma returned. “Are those copies ready?” she asked crisply. “I have a few minutes to spare.” Before Natalie could answer, she added in a low voice, “I heard Ian asking you to lunch.”
“He makes my skin crawl.” Natalie shuddered as she gathered up the copies and handed them to Gemma. “And did you notice? He doesn’t wear his wedding ring, the cheating worm.”
“You want to watch him. He’s hit on every woman in the office under thirty — including me.”
“How did you get him to stop?”
Gemma smiled. “The direct method. I kicked him in the balls.”
Natalie gasped, and giggled. “You didn’t.”
“He couldn’t walk properly for a week. It was a month before he spoke to me. But he never bothered me again.”
Gemma turned on the GBC machine and together they worked in companionable silence to assemble the covers and spines for Natalie’s business plan.
Dashwood and James’s tearoom was festooned with birthday banners and balloons as Lady Dashwood blew out the candles on her birthday cake. “This is lovely! Thank you all so much.”
Natalie’s gaze swept over the faces gathered to celebrate her mum’s birthday. She’d arranged for the cake to be brought out on a trolley after lunch. Although her mother complained about the calories, she tucked into her slice with relish.
Natalie took her paper plate and sat next to Sir Richard. “Did you look at my business plan for the re-launch?”
“Yes. Alastair and I were quite impressed. Rhys says you’ve already had some good ideas.”
“Did he? I’m surprised he had anything good to say about me.” She took a bite of her cake, resisting the urge to lick the frosting from her fork.
Sir Richard stirred his tea. “He finds your spending habits deplorable, Natalie, as do I.”
“Oh, grandfather, don’t start!” she groaned. “Let me enjoy my cake without another lecture about fiscal responsibility. I’ve had enough of that from Rhys.” Her mobile rang, and she took it from her purse. “Excuse me.”
“Natalie? Rhys. I need you at the IT meeting in ten minutes. They’ll want suggestions on how to improve the Dashwood and James website; I want your input.”
She bit her lip. Ian designed the company website; he’d certainly be at the meeting. The thought of spending an entire afternoon in a conference room with Ian, a knowing smirk on his face whenever he looked at her, made Natalie’s stomach clench.
I really do need to talk to you. It’s important. We can do it privately, or we can do it right here…
“But I’m just having cake!” Natalie stalled. “I’m at mum’s birthday luncheon.”
His voice warmed a degree. “Tell her I wish her a very happy birthday. Sorry I couldn’t be there.”
Natalie relayed the message; her mother beamed.
“This meeting may drag on,” Rhys warned her. “I have a lot of recommendations. Ian and his staff will be very busy.”
“Actually,” she hedged, anxious to avoid the meeting, “I doubt I’ll make it in time.” She turned away from Sir Richard and added in a low voice, “The tearoom at D&J was booked, so we had to go to…Croydon.”
“No, you didn’t. You’re upstairs; I saw the reservation on the schedule.” He paused. “Natalie, if you don’t get your arse down here in ten minutes,” he added curtly, “your career will be over before it’s begun.” He rang off.
Outraged, she glared at her mobile before thrusting it in her bag. “Prat,” she muttered.
“What’s wrong, darling?” Celia Dashwood asked.
Natalie stood. “I’ve a meeting in ten minutes. I have to run.” She bent down to kiss her mother. “Happy birthday, mum.”
“Thank you, dear. I’ll call you soon.”
Sir Richard smiled as she leaned down and kissed his cheek. “He’s not cutting you any slack, is he?” he murmured.
“No,” Natalie said grimly. “None.”
His eyes twinkled. “Well, we wouldn’t want him to be accused of favoritism, would we?”
“No. We wouldn’t want that.” Natalie waved goodbye and dashed towards the lift.
An hour later, the IT meeting ended, and Rhys stood.
“All right, Clarkson, I’ve seen enough.” Rhys gathered up his notes. “Make the changes we discussed, and we’ll meet again next week. Thanks.” He clapped Ian briefly on the shoulder, glanced at his watch, and left.
Natalie moved to follow him. Relief that the meeting had lasted only an hour washed over her. And Ian hadn’t given her a glance, not with Rhys’s dizzying list of changes to implement—
“What did you think of the website?”
As if her thoughts had summoned him, Natalie looked up to see Ian standing before her. “Well, like anything, it could do with improvement,” she hedged. She realised with sudden unease that they were alone in the conference room.
“How very diplomatic. Your boss hated it.”
“Rhys can be a bit blunt.”
“A bit blunt?” Ian echoed. “He ripped it to shreds. We’ll be working late for a week straight.”
“It’s not personal.” She gathered up her notepad and pen and prepared to leave. “That’s just Rhys’s way. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get back—”
“Don’t rush off!” he chided, and blocked her way. “I thought we might have a drink after work. Have that talk.”
“Talk about what?” she asked, and cast him a wary glance. “We have nothing to say.”
“Oh, I have a lot to say. It concerns
