Читать книгу A Bride For The Brooding Boss - Bella Bucannon - Страница 10

CHAPTER THREE

MATT WAS PACING the floor, talking on the phone when Lauren arrived Thursday morning, hoping for a repeat of yesterday when she’d been left pretty much alone all day. He’d been absent when she’d finished so she’d left her report on his desk.

On the way to her room she returned the preoccupied nod he gave her, grinning to herself at the double take he gave her suitcase and overnight bag. She’d booked out of the hotel, confirmed she’d be returning on Monday and been promised the same room.

She did her routine and began work, fully expecting an apologetic call some time from her eldest brother, who’d been delegated to pick her up on arrival in Melbourne. She’d long ago accepted she was way down on her family’s priority list.

Her priority was to complete her designated task. Her expertise told her a human hand was involved. If—when, Lauren, think positive—she solved what and how, fronting Matt Dalton was going to be daunting. The few occasions she’d had to implicate someone in a position of trust had always left her feeling queasy, as if she were somehow to blame.

In two days she’d become used to the sound of him in the background like a soft radio music channel where the modulations and nuances were subtle, never intrusive. Every so often the complete silence told her he’d left the office. Occasionally someone came in. Few stayed more than a couple of minutes.

There was no sign of him when she went to the fridge, though an unrolled diagram lay spread out on his desk. She resisted the impulse to take a peek, and consumed her snack while enjoying the view from her window.

Matt’s return was preceded by his voice as he walked along the corridor not long after she resumed work. She glimpsed him as he strode past her doorway to the window, ramrod-straight, hand clenched. Not a happy man.

His temper wouldn’t improve when her report showed all she’d written down so far today was a slowly growing number of random dates.

‘Dad!’

His startled tone broke Lauren’s concentration.

‘Sorry, mate, I’ll call you back. Dad, what are you doing here?’

He came into her view and stopped. By craning her neck, she could see him clasping a greying man to his chest.

‘You came alone?’ There was genuine concern in his tone.

‘Haven’t been in for weeks so I thought I’d come and find out what’s happening.’ Apart from the slower pace of the words, the voice’s similarity to Matt’s was defining.

‘Everything’s going smoothly. Come and sit down. We’ll talk over coffee.’

Blocking his father’s view of her, he guided him towards the seating, then continued talking as he passed her door on the way to make the drinks. Without breaking step he made a quick gesture across his throat when their eyes met.

‘There’s a new espresso flavour you’ve never tried, rich and aromatic.’

He wanted her to shut down and not let his father know what she was doing. What if Marcus came in here? Asked who she was? As far as she knew, it was still his company. And it was his son’s fault she couldn’t escape through the locked door.

The papers and folder were slipped into the drawer, a fresh page on the pad partially covered by random notes for show. Acutely conscious of the mingled sounds of the coffee machine and Matt’s muted voice making a call, she reached for the mouse.

Matt slid his mobile into his pocket, and picked up the two small cups. What the hell had prompted his father’s arrival? If his mother was aware he’d come into the city, she’d be worried sick. Had Ms Taylor understood his silent message? Could things get any worse?

‘Here, Dad, try this. Tell me if you like it.’ He sank into the other armchair, torn between the desire to hug his ailing father, and the recurring craving to demand why he’d cheated on his wife. So many times.

He’d never understood why so many people he knew treated cheating casually, as part of modern life. To him it was abhorrent. Why claim to love someone and then seek another partner? Why stay with someone who had no respect for your affection?

He had never declared the emotion, deeming that would be hypocritical, but had always insisted on fidelity. He’d found out the hard way that for some people promises meant nothing.

It churned Matt’s stomach that his father considered affairs a normal part of life, his due entitlement as a charismatic male. The man he’d revered in his youth and aspired to become had seen no reason why they should affect his marriage.

He was torn between the deep love of a son for his father and distaste for his casual attitude to being faithful. And behind him, hidden by the wall in Matt’s eye line, was the room where he brought the women. His coffee turned sour in his mouth.

Marcus sipped his drink cautiously, savouring the taste.

‘Mmm...good, real coffee. I’ll take a pod home and ask Rosalind to buy some.’

‘Take a box.’ Matt cleared his throat, hesitant to ask the vital question. Please don’t let the answer be he drove. ‘How did you get here, Dad?’

‘Caught a cab at the shopping centre near home.’ He glared at the desk, set not too far away. ‘You’ve twisted my desk.’ It was an accusation.

‘Don’t worry, it suits me that way. We can always put it back.’ He’d never place it in the former position that had given the user a direct eye line to the person working at the desk next door.

‘Hmph. Now I need the bathroom.’

Marcus put his cup on the table, and went to the ensuite. Matt let out a long huff of breath, and took another drink of the hot, stimulating liquid. A glance at his watch told him his cousin should be here in a few minutes.

Swearing softly when his desk phone rang, he strode over to answer. He missed his father’s return as he searched his in-tray for the letter the caller had sent.

Lauren stopped typing as Marcus came into her office. The eyes were a similar colour, the facial features bore a strong resemblance, but he lacked the firm line of his son’s jaw, his innate sense of character.

‘You’re new. What happened to Miss...?’ He tapped his palm on his forehead. ‘Um, long dark hair, big blue eyes.’

‘I believe she left. Can I help you?’

His gaze intensified, then he came round to stand beside her, and stared at the screen.

‘She was a good typist. Fast and accurate.’

‘Dad.’

Matt stood in the doorway, the same forbidding expression he’d worn at her interview directed at her. She lifted her chin, determined not to be part of whatever games this family was playing.

The older man spoke first. ‘There’s too many changes, Matthew. My girl was good. She left. People kept leaving.’ Slow with pauses at inappropriate times. ‘Who hired this one?’

He tapped her on the shoulder as he spoke, and she involuntarily flinched, knew from the frown on Matt’s face he’d seen. He came over, and wrapped his arm across his father’s shoulders.

‘Let’s leave Ms Taylor to her work, Dad. Come and finish your coffee?’

Although Matt barely glanced at her screen, he gave her a reassuring nod as he led his father out. He’d seen the bogus letter she’d started typing up.

‘It’ll be cold.’

She heard the outer door open, and saw Matt’s body sag in relief.

‘Here’s Alan, Dad. He and I will drive you home and Mum will brew you another when we arrive.’

They moved out of her sight and she heard muffled exchanges then Matt’s clearer words.

‘Give me a minute. Grab that box of pods from the bench.’

He came into her room, his grateful expression telling her she’d pleased him, creating fissions of pleasure skittling from cell to cell.

‘Quick thinking, Ms Taylor, thank you. I’ll be gone for an hour or so. Joanne has a key to lock my office if you go out.’

He paused, swallowed as if there was more he wanted to say but couldn’t find the words, then disappeared leaving her with a bundle of questions she’d never be game to ask.

The man she’d just met hadn’t looked all that old but his behaviour and actions were certainly not those of a fast-thinking entrepreneur who’d built a thriving business.

She deleted the text as soon as she heard the door close, and brought up the files she’d been scanning. The events replayed in her mind as she sat, hands lightly resting on the keyboard.

Matt had been protective yet somehow detached from his father, desperate to get him out of here. He’d called this Alan to come and help, not wanting to escort him alone.

From Marcus’ remark she deduced Matt had taken over his office. A woman had worked in here so he’d been elsewhere, probably the empty room by reception. Had Marcus kept such tight control Matt had no idea what was happening in the accounts and records?

That would explain his underlying antipathy and hostile manner but why towards her? She was his solution, his last resort. She was used to being warmly welcomed and treated with respect.

Matt was an enigma, his words and tone not always matching his body language and often conflicting with the message in those stunning blue eyes. He resented whatever it was that sparked between them, and must have a reason she couldn’t fathom.

At all costs she had to find and fix his problems and get away without him finding out they had a past.

* * *

Matt quietly placed his keys into his desk drawer, wondering what he was going to say to Lauren.

My father has Alzheimer’s. He’s losing his memory. He’s lost most of his good staff in the last year, and he’s possibly screwed up the company.

His condition had escalated in the last month and Matt’s mother was finding it harder to cope. Some very tough decisions would have to be made in the near future.

Matt would never blame Marcus for anything that could be attributed to that hellish affliction. But it was his father’s screwing around that had sent him to the other side of the world. If he’d been here, possibly working with him, he’d have noticed the deterioration in time to prevent this debacle.

He would have. His fingers bunched. He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. He would have.

Only the family, their doctor and a few select friends knew. Matt believed his chances of success hinged on keeping it a secret, and Lauren’s employer had emphasised her discretion and trustworthiness. He was about to test it to the max.

She stopped working as he came to her doorway, her face inscrutable, her eyes wary. His stomach clenched.

‘We’d better talk. Please come in here.’

Once they were seated by the window he paused to think, weighing up how much to tell her.

‘There aren’t the words to thank you enough for your understanding today. The man you saw isn’t the same person who started this company. He has Alzheimer’s.’

She leant forward. ‘I suspected something like that. I’m sorry. It must be so hard on your family.’ Empathy rang true in her voice and showed in her expression.

‘Unfortunately, he kept his illness a secret from everyone, including my mother. We have no idea how long he faked his way until the progression sped up and his errors in the business became obvious. I’d have come home sooner if I’d known.’

‘You weren’t here?’ She recoiled, eyes big and bright, fingers splayed.

She didn’t know? There’d been no reason to tell her but he’d assumed she’d guessed. He nodded. ‘I’ve been living in England for seven years.’

‘Oh. Did you ever work here with your father?’

‘In my late teens. My interests are in different fields of business.’

A pink blush spread up her neck and cheeks.

‘Is something wrong?’ He tensed, flexed his shoulders, and his hand lifted in concern.

Lauren cursed her lifelong affliction. What could possibly be wrong?

Only that the instant he mentioned his teens she remembered the balcony. Only that the sight of his mouth forming the words had her lips recalling the gentle touch of his.

‘No, and I promise never to divulge any personal or company information to anyone.’ Her hands clasped in her lap, she could barely take in that he’d shared this most personal secret with her. Now she understood.

His unplanned return from abroad to take control of a company in financial trouble explained the tension, the curtness. The urgency. She couldn’t begin to imagine the daunting task he’d had thrust upon him.

‘I’d appreciate it.’

‘You’re welcome. That’s why you wanted my scanning hidden from him and called a friend for help.’

‘He has good and bad days. Normally he becomes agitated whenever anything to do with the company is mentioned yet today he gave the taxi driver the correct address for the office. There was no hesitation in finding his way here or to the ensuite.’

‘And he remembered the girl who worked here, though not her name.’

‘He would.’ The bitterness in his voice shook her and she jerked back, receiving a half-smile in apology as he continued.

‘I was told her departure a few months ago was acrimonious to say the least. There were others who left because of his behaviour too, but replacements have to wait until you succeed and we sort everything out.’

She’d go and new staff would come. There’d be another woman at her desk, chosen by him...what was she thinking? This was not a valid reason to be depressed. Did he prefer blondes or brunettes?

Must. Stop. Thinking like this.

She snapped herself out of it and went to stand. ‘On that note, I’d better get back to my task.’

He stood, and held out his hand to help her. The warmth from his touch spread up her arm, radiating to every part of her. She doubted even ice-cold water would cool her down. She prayed he couldn’t detect her tremor and didn’t demur as he kept hold.

‘I am truly grateful, Lauren. I owe you big time and I never forget a debt.’

The message in his smouldering dark blue eyes painted a graphic picture of the form his gratitude might take, scrambling every coherent thought in her brain. Her throat dried, butterflies stirred in her stomach and it felt as if fluttering wings were brushing against every cell on her skin.

His grip tightened. Her lips parted. He leant closer.

The phone on his desk shattered the moment, and he glowered at it as he moved back, and reluctantly released her. She caught the arm of the chair to avoid collapsing into it.

His rasping, ‘We’ll talk again later,’ proved she wasn’t the only one affected.

As he picked up the handset he added, ‘Alan’s my cousin, family.’

The instant he answered the call he was in corporate mode. That irked because she needed time to compose herself, cool her skin, but he clearly didn’t. When she returned from the ensuite, he was leaning on his desk, phone to his ear, watching for her. His engaging smile and quick but thorough appraisal from her face to her feet and back threatened to undo her freshen up. Not so calm and composed after all, just better at covering it up.

* * *

Lauren closed down early, allowing time for the ride to the airport, loath to suspend her search for four days. She had an inkling of an idea she’d heard somewhere but couldn’t remember where or when. There’d be plenty of time to dwell on it in Melbourne.

Collecting her luggage, she took her report to Matt, whose stunned face and glance at his watch proved he’d forgotten her early departure.

‘That late already? Have you ordered a taxi?’

‘I’ll be fine. I’ve noticed they always seem to be driving past.’

He grinned. ‘Unless you need one. I’ll finish this page and drive you.’

‘There’s no—’

‘Humour me.’

* * *

Lauren’s knowledge of cars was limited—there wasn’t a necessity to own one in Sydney—but she recognised the Holden emblem on the grill. Matt’s quiet assurance as he eased into the traffic didn’t surprise her.

‘Did you drive in Europe?’

‘Yes, rarely in London, a lot through the country. Nowhere is too far if you can put up with dense traffic and miles of freeways. So different from Australia. Driving in Paris was a unique experience. Have you travelled?’

‘A week in Bali with friends two years ago. We’re planning a trip for this year if we can decide on a destination.’

She was aware of him glancing at her, but she kept her focus on the road where his should be.

‘You mentioned family in Melbourne. Do you visit often?’

‘Three or four times a year. This is my niece’s first Easter.’

Matt willed her to look his way. She didn’t. The ten-to-fifteen-minute drive in heavy traffic was hardly conducive to a meaningful discussion. That would have to wait until she returned.

‘Why did you move to Sydney?’ Why did he want to know? Why the long silent pause as she considered his question?

‘Why did you go to London?’

Because I couldn’t stand the sight of my parents feigning a happy marriage when it was a complete sham.

Because even moving into a rented house with friends in another suburb hadn’t given him sufficient distance.

‘Rite of passage to fly the nest and try to climb the corporate ladder without favour from associates of my father.’

‘And you succeeded. It’ll all be waiting for you when you’ve got Dalton Corporation back on track. Your family must be glad to have you home even under sad circumstances. I’m sure they’ve missed you.’

Matt picked up on the nuance in her voice, but didn’t respond as he flicked on his indicator and turned into the airport road. So she had an issue with family as well. She’d rather not go.

He pulled into a clear space at the drop-off zone and switched off the engine. Before he had a chance to walk round and assist her, Lauren had unlatched her seat belt and jumped out.

He wiped his hand across his jaw, fighting the urge to reassure her, feeling he’d left so much unsaid today. He’d make time when she came back. She was coming back, and that pleased him.

She let him lift her luggage from the boot, and seemed reluctant to say goodbye.

‘Thank you for the lift, Mr Dalton. I’ll see you on Tuesday.’

‘My pleasure. Enjoy your long weekend.’

I don’t understand why, but I’ll miss you.