‘I guess I like to think I’m as efficient as the next person and there seems a lot to be done in this office at the moment. Or perhaps it’s always this busy?’
‘Tom and I work hard, but there’s more to contend with right now than is usual, even for us.’ To move his gaze from her, he shifted it to a photo of an older couple that she’d added to her desk. The woman had curly hair, cut shorter. Her parents …
Was she an only child or did she, like him, have siblings? An intriguing-looking laminated sheet covered the left half of the desk. Much of it had work strewn on top but the bits he could see appeared to be cartoon cuttings.
Her foibles and family history shouldn’t interest him. Another sign of trouble, and yet still he stood here, courting time with her when both their interests would be better served if he didn’t.
‘Will it be a problem for you to work longer hours for the next few days?’ That was what he really needed to know. ‘Is there someone at home who’ll mind?’
Marissa’s answer was only relevant to him in terms of how it impacted here.
Except his body stilled as he waited for her response, and that stillness had little to do with concerns about his working life.
‘Tom has welcomed the longer hours because he and Linda are saving to buy a house.’ The words left his mouth in an explanation he hadn’t intended to give. ‘He’s used to my ways and knows his way around this office. He copes.’
‘I can manage any work Tom would have done.’ She spoke the words with her chin in the air. An answer, but not all the information he had wanted.
‘I don’t doubt that.’ He wanted her to know he thought well of her. Wanted her to … think well of him. The last time he’d experienced this particular care about another’s opinion of him, he’d been twenty years old and convinced he was in love, until the girl had started talking about the future—theirs—and he’d wanted to run a mile.
Just like his father, except Stephen Morgan was in a family and he did his running a little differently. Rick hadn’t even tried for a less than overt approach. He’d got out of that relationship so fast he’d probably left the girl spinning and he’d avoided commitment ever since.
‘I’m not … tied to any home responsibilities.’ Marissa offered this information cautiously, as though she’d prefer not to have given it.
‘Then I won’t worry too much if I do have to ask you to work extra hours.’ Rick stared into the warm brown eyes fixed unerringly on him and the moment stretched out, expanded to encompass not only the words they had exchanged but also what they weren’t saying. The sparkle in the air between them. His awareness of her, hers of him, the denial of both of them.
Sexual attraction. That was all it was, but even so it wasn’t wise and he had to realise that and move them past it. He drew a deep breath. ‘It’s clear you can cope with the workload. You’ve handled yourself very well so far today. I appreciate your efforts.’
‘Th-thank you.’ A pleased expression lifted the corners of her mouth and softened her eyes. ‘I’ve simply done my job.’
Something about that softening brought back the urge he’d had earlier in the lift to kiss her senseless, and he lowered his tone of voice to a low rumble. ‘So I’ve observed.’
‘I can work whatever hours are needed. I’d just appreciate knowing so I can gear my social life accordingly.’ She cleared her throat and couldn’t quite seem to meet his gaze. ‘I cancelled a drink after work today because I figured I wouldn’t be out by five.’
Rick wanted to say there’d be no time whatsoever for her to spend on ‘drinks’. Presumably with some man. He noted at the same time that she must be looking. Looking, but not seriously involved right now.
But women who looked and carried photos of their parents with them did want depth and permanency, and that kind of relationship was not on his agenda.
‘I should get on, if that was all.’ She reached for the pile of letters to be mailed, began to calmly fold them into the window envelopes she had waiting on her desk.
Dismissed by his temporary assistant. Rick gave a snort of amusement and reluctant admiration before he swung away. ‘I’ll be in my office and … er … I promise there won’t be any more correspondence brought out for you to type today. I know your tray is still loaded.’
‘No.’ She didn’t look up. ‘You’ll just hold it over for tomorrow so I won’t get stressed out. I won’t anyway, but that’s okay. I understand the tactic. Gordon does the same thing.’
Now he’d been compared to a fifty-year-old.
Rick disappeared into his office, pushed the door closed so he wouldn’t be tempted to listen to Marissa taking phone calls or watch her as she worked, and decided that it was very different working with her rather than Tom.
That explained his ongoing interest in her. He half convinced himself he believed this. Well, maybe a quarter. He immersed himself in his work.
At twenty minutes to six that evening Marissa stuck her head around his door. ‘Your presence is requested at an emergency conference.’
He’d started to believe they might have nearly caught up on their workload. So much for that idea. ‘Which department heads? What’s the problem?’
She pushed the door open fully and read a spiel of information from her steno pad.
Rick gave a mild curse. ‘Where? Have they assembled already?’
‘Conference Room Two, and yes.’ She had her tote bag on her shoulder and a determined glint in her eyes. Her computer was shut down and her desk cleared. Whatever work she had remaining she had tidied away. ‘I assume you’ll want us to join them immediately. If it ends quickly, we can come back.’
He got to his feet. ‘I’ll secure my office.’
She swept in beside him while he sorted files and locked them away. ‘Anything on screen that needs to be saved before I shut this down?’
‘No. Nothing, but I can do that.’ He locked the final cabinet and swung round.
She’d clicked out of applications as he spoke and she stood there now, bent at the waist, leaning in to press the button on the back of the computer.
Rick’s senses kicked him hard. She would have to possess the most appealing bottom to go with those equally devastating legs, wouldn’t she? And he would have to notice it instead of being completely unaware of her, as he needed to be. He didn’t want to notice her, or be impressed or intrigued by her or find her different or interesting or highly attractive!
If he’d thought it would help, he’d replace her with someone from another department but no other personal secretary had a boss on holiday. He certainly wasn’t about to subject himself to some child from the general pool again. And, for goodness’ sake, he could control this.
He always controlled the way he reacted to women. There was no reason why this situation should be any different. In fact, because she worked for him and he never, ever, mixed work with his social interactions that way, it should be easier still.
