as it’s a family resort. Preferably a married man. Of course, that’s just the word on the street—they’d never say as much officially.’
‘Of course.’ Cormac injected a dry note into his voice. ‘Presumably that’s why I haven’t heard of it.’
‘Exactly,’ Eric agreed, laughing. ‘You’re not on the short-list, Cormac.’
‘Not yet.’
‘What are you thinking of? A trip to Gretna Green?’
Cormac knew Eric was joking so he chuckled along with him. ‘Not a bad idea.’
‘You know your own reputation,’ Eric said with a careless laugh. ‘But I didn’t think you were quite that ruthless.’
After the telephone call Cormac had spent a long time staring out at the gloomy skies, the crawl of cars intent on avoiding the traffic of the Old Town.
He imagined the short-list Jan Hassell would have compiled: smug married architects with their happy home lives and uninspired designs.
It was absurd that the Hassells wanted a married man to design the resort. Family values had no effect—at least no positive effect—on one’s work. He should know. His work was his life, his breath. And as for family…
He stifled a curse, one hand balling into a frustrated fist. He wanted that commission. It was a fantastic opportunity, but it was more than that. It was a chance to prove who he was…and who he wasn’t.
He was the best man for the job, could be the best man if given the chance, if he grabbed it.
He wasn’t married.
A few hours after the call from Eric, Cormac had made some calls of his own and finally connected with Jan Hassell. After faxing his CV and some designs to Jan, he’d been invited to a weekend house party on Sint Rimbert, along with two other architects. It was a stone’s throw from complete success and now all he needed was a wife on his arm, an ornament to prove he had all those damn family values.
To get the commission.
To seize it.
He glanced at some letters on his desk which his secretary had left for him to sign and irritably pulled them towards him. He was just scrawling his name on the bottom of the first page when he stopped. Smiled.
Considered.
He had the perfect idea. The perfect wife.
She just didn’t know it yet.
‘I’m glad you’re doing so well, Dani,’ Lizzie said into the phone. She swallowed past the lump which had risen suddenly—stupidly—in her throat. It was ridiculous to feel sad. Dani was happy, enjoying life at university, doing all the things an eighteen-year-old should do.
This was what she’d always wanted for her sister. Always.
There was a low rumble of male laughter from the end of the line and Dani said, ‘I ought to go, some friends are coming over…’
‘It’s only five o’clock,’ Lizzie found herself protesting, aware of the prissy censure in her voice.
‘It’s Thursday, Lizzie!’ Dani laughed. ‘Weekends at university always start early.’ Another male laugh sounded in the background and she asked a bit guiltily, ‘Do you have plans for the weekend? Your first weekend alone!’
‘Yes.’ Lizzie tried to inject some enthusiasm into her voice and failed. ‘Yes, I’m going to…’ Her mind went blank. Read a book. Take a bath. Go to bed.
‘Paint the town red?’ If there was any mockery in Dani’s voice, it was gentle, but it still stung. ‘You should go for it, Lizzie. You’ve spent too much of your life looking after me as it is. Seize life! Or at least a man.’ She giggled. ‘Anyway, someone’s calling me, so I’d better go…’ Giggling again, at someone other than Lizzie, she hung up the phone.
Seize life. Dani’s reckless advice rang in Lizzie’s ears as she replaced the receiver. It was easy for her sister to seize things; she was carefree, young, thoughtless. She didn’t have responsibilities, concerns, bills weighing her down.
Lizzie sighed. She didn’t want to think badly of Dani. Hadn’t she worked so hard—sacrificed her own dreams—so Dani could have hers?
And now she had them. Lizzie knew she should be thrilled.
And she was. She was.
Determinedly, she rose from her desk. Perhaps she would paint the town, if not red, then a light pink. She could go to a wine bar on Rose Street, see if anyone from work was going…There was an associate architect she vaguely fancied—John something. Of course, he didn’t even know her name.
No one did.
And even as these plans half-formed in her mind, Lizzie knew she would never carry them out. Didn’t know how. Didn’t dare.
Sighing, she reached for her handbag. She’d make sure her boss didn’t need anything else from her tonight and then she’d go home. Alone. Lonely.
As always.
She knocked lightly on Cormac Douglas’s door.
‘Come in.’
The barked-out command made Lizzie stiffen slightly. Cormac Douglas was in the Edinburgh office for only one week out of four, and she found she preferred the other three. His terse commands were taken better by e-mail or a short note left on her desk than face to face.
Lizzie pushed the door open. ‘Mr Douglas? I was just going to head out unless you need me…?’
Cormac stood by the window, hands shoved deep into his trouser pockets, his gaze studying the grey cityscape stretched out before him. ‘Need you?’ he repeated as if considering the question. He turned to face her, his eyes sweeping her form in a strangely assessing way. ‘As a matter of fact, I do.’
‘All right.’ Lizzie waited for instructions. She was used to staying late when Cormac was in town, although she’d finished all the work he’d given her. Something must have come up.
‘Do you have a current passport?’ he asked, and Lizzie blinked, nonplussed.
‘Yes…’
‘Good.’ He paused and Lizzie had the feeling he was considering what to say. An odd thought, since Cormac Douglas was the kind of man who always knew what to say. ‘I have a business engagement,’ he finally explained tersely, ‘and I need a secretary to accompany me.’
‘Very well.’ Lizzie nodded, as if this was something she’d done before. In the two years she’d worked for Douglas Architectural Designs, she’d never accompanied Cormac anywhere, not even to a local work site. He preferred to do things on his own. Besides, he was more likely to take one of his assistants from the London office with him than Lizzie, a plain, parochial Edinburgh girl. ‘Where are we going?’
‘We leave for the Dutch Antilles tomorrow evening and return on Monday. It’s a very important commission.’
