growing up in a large, noisy family, she supposed. ‘Shall I make us some coffee first?’ she asked eagerly.
His look was repressive. ‘Not for me—I’ve only just eaten breakfast.’
‘Oh. Right. Well, look what arrived in the post this morning.’ She held the plump pink envelope aloft.
‘Mmm?’ he said absently.
‘A letter.’
He paused in the act of hanging his jacket up and gave it a flicker of a glance, but she saw his features tighten. ‘Yes, I can see what it is!’
‘Another one,’ she emphasised deliberately.
‘Just put it in my tray, would you?’
Megan felt a stab of concern. Someone had clearly gone to a lot of trouble with this letter—surely he owed it more than that rather dismissive glance? ‘Aren’t you going to read it?’
Dan turned around, irritation sparking the dark grey eyes. She sounded just like his mother! ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Well, it’s just that I noticed several other envelopes which looked like this—’
‘And?’ he snapped.
‘And you haven’t even bothered to read them,’ she finished.
‘Oh, no—’ Dan shook his head and glowered. ‘To say that I haven’t “bothered” to read them implies that I’ve been either careless or neglectful. I chose not to read them.’
Megan’s curiosity was stirred, wondering who in their right mind could resist a handwritten envelope. ‘May I ask why?’
She was treated to an impatient glance.
‘No, you may not ask why! You’re paid to assist me—not interrogate me! So refresh my mind by telling me what’s on the agenda for this morning, will you, Megan? And put the letter in my tray like I asked you to. There’s a good girl.’
The patronising term annoyed her, but she didn’t show it. Reminding herself that the salary Softshare paid her was worth withstanding the occasional moody outburst, Megan gritted her teeth behind her most patient smile. ‘Certainly. There were two messages on your voice mail from Japan. Oh, and another call from the Czech Republic. Someone in the government there needs to talk to you and wondered if you could get back to them as soon as possible?’
‘Yep. Sure.’ He wandered over to the window and looked down onto the car park where a dozen powerful cars, including his own, glittered in the morning sunshine. ‘What else?’
‘You’re meeting Sam Tenbury to discuss the possibility of Softshare sponsoring a tennis tournament. You’re having lunch together—’
‘Where?’
Megan smiled confidently. She had asked one of the executive assistants for the name of the best local restaurant. And even the pernickety Dan McKnight surely couldn’t find fault with her choice. ‘I’ve booked that riverside restaurant—’
‘Change it.’
‘But—’
‘Change it,’ he repeated on a growl, meeting the be-mused question in her eyes. ‘I’m much too busy to have my time wasted by waiters who think that offering me an oversized pepper pot should be greeted with laughter and loud applause!’
Megan frowned. She had briefly gone out with a waiter while she was still at secretarial college and knew what long hours they put in for what amounted to little more than a meagre pittance. ‘But they’re only doing their job, Dan—’
‘Yes, I know they are,’ he said, with a quick, impatient smile. ‘I just don’t want it to interfere with mine! And it’s the kind of restaurant where men take their mistresses—’
Megan looked up quickly. It was a very old-fashioned word for him to have used, she thought. And not a particularly flattering one. ‘How do you work that one out—is there a sign on the door or something?’
‘You’ve obviously never been there.’
‘Well, I certainly wouldn’t admit to it now—even if I had! What’s wrong with it?’
‘I just don’t think it deserves its reputation as being the best place to eat locally. It’s badly lit with corny music—the food is mediocre and it’s overpriced. I don’t want to browse through a menu of encyclopaedic length or have my wineglass filled every other second so that by the end of the meal I’m on my knees. I’m not planning a long, slow seduction—’
‘Gosh! Sam Tenbury will be relieved!’ she joked.
Dan sent her a glimmer of disapproval as he bit his words out. ‘I just want to eat and then talk business.’
‘Right.’ Megan stared at him—all health and vitality in that grey suit which made his eyes look like glittering slate in comparison. ‘Well, I really don’t know any other restaurants in the area. Any suggestions? “
Dan plugged in his laptop. ‘Why don’t we eat here?’
Megan conjured up a vision of herself flitting in and out, carrying plates of sandwiches. Did he expect her to make them as well? ‘What—in the office?’
He gave her the type of look he reserved for people who were being especially dense. ‘No, Megan, not here in the office,’ he answered sarcastically. ‘I don’t want crumbs in my keyboard! I meant the staff canteen.’
‘Oh,’ she said.
He heard the doubt in her voice. ‘The food is good—and there’s no chance of alcohol clouding our judgement, since the strongest liquid on sale is root beer!’
Poor old Sam Tenbury, thought Megan. If he thought he was about to have an extravagant time with one of the dynamic directors of Softshare he was about to be very disappointed! ‘Right,’ she said briskly. ‘I’ll cancel the table. Let’s hope Sam wasn’t expecting you to push the boat out!’
Dan looked at her with a faint air of disapproval. ‘Why should he? You must know the company philosophy by now, Megan—how long have you been here? A month, is it?’
‘Nearly three months actually,’ she corrected pithily, wondering if he had deliberately cultivated the knack of making a woman feel completely invisible.
‘And…’ He sat down behind his desk and stretched his long legs out in front of him. ‘What have you learned so far?’
Megan felt like a child asked to recite their times-tables in front of the teacher! ‘That frugality is the name of the game,’ she told him earnestly. ‘That Softshare directors fly economy class. That you don’t make your offices into palaces.’
‘And why not?’ he asked softly.
‘Because you plough all the profits back into keeping ahead of your competitors,’ she answered obediently.
‘Mmm. Very good, Megan,’ he said, looking closely at the screen in front of
