Читать книгу At The Boss's Command - Darcy Maguire - Страница 10

They say it’s lonely at the top.

I say it can be lonely anywhere.

CASE glanced at his watch. What time did they take lunch here? He ran a hand through his hair. He had no idea.

He’d tried to play it cool by waiting, taking his time, attempting to talk himself out of taking the woman to lunch over the last two days, but it was impossible. Everyone he talked to had something to say about Tahlia Moran’s dedication and commitment to her work…

He’d cracked and sent an invitation to lunch to her this morning.

He had to know more about her than the snippets he’d picked up in conversation around the office.

It wasn’t enough.

There was enough information to go either way. Her dedication to her work intrigued him, her confidence teased him and her beauty tortured every inch of him. But he could be wrong…like with Celia, his ex…and Tahlia’s dedication could well border on obsession, her confidence narcissistic and her beauty only skin-deep.

Tahlia’s reluctance to pander to him or his ego fascinated him. Her forwardness, her bluntness, her total lack of pretence appealed to something in him. What, he didn’t know…

He couldn’t afford another mistake. For his parents’ wavering belief in him as much as his own reluctance to go through anything like Celia ever again.

So what was he doing? Playing with fire…

He stood up and strode to the floor-to-ceiling window and stared out at the Yarra river and Melbourne’s city sprawl on the other side.

Hell, he needed a breath of fresh air in his life. He deserved one after what Celia had put him through.

Celia had been amazing in the beginning, sweeping him off his feet with her calm assurance and big smiling eyes into a whirlwind marriage that had torn through his savings, his illusions and his heart.

He could have gone on for years, trying to make it work, pushing her to see a counsellor with him, attempting to recapture the magic of those early days. Her spending hadn’t mattered. He had been making enough to fund her passion for designer clothes, shoes and jewellery.

All he had wanted was for her to love him again.

He hadn’t known what he’d done wrong.

Hadn’t known what to do next.

He’d gone home early that day to beg for her help in saving their marriage, rekindling the magic, sharing in finding the solution that eluded him. What he’d found was Celia sharing herself with some bronzed stud in their bed.

Case closed his eyes, the image scored in his mind. He was a fool. Even then he would have tried again, would have burdened the blame, just to get her to want to save their marriage as much as he had wanted to.

She hadn’t. She’d wanted a divorce, half of what was left of his assets and to be rid of him.

Thanks to several savvy lawyers involved in their pre-marital agreement, she’d only got two out of three.

Case ran a hand through his hair, cringing. It was nearly a year since the divorce had finally been settled. Logic suggested it was long enough to get on with life, but the wounds he bore still ached deep in his chest.

The betrayal was going to take longer to get over and he was strong enough to ignore Tahlia’s lush peach lips, those dazzling green eyes, her sweet voice and intriguing focus on business.

The knock startled him. Case turned. Tahlia Moran stood at his door in a short black skirt that showed just how long and shapely her legs were, the slight curve of her hips and her narrow waist.

Her hands were on her hips, her lips pursed. ‘Ready, Mr Darrington?’ she lilted, her voice sweet as apple blossom.

Maybe not. Case swallowed hard, pulling at his tie and straightening it, his blood roaring hot and fiery through him.

He couldn’t deny he was attracted. But he didn’t need to take any risks. He could keep it light. Keep it simple. Get to know the woman, with no strings and no complications.

He wasn’t going to get distracted from WWW Designs, no matter what Tahlia Moran made him feel. Tahlia stood in Case The Target Darrington’s doorway, her cheeks heating under the warmth of his gaze and the way his eyes caressed her.

She could feel everything traitorously warming.

‘So?’ she offered, crossing the files in her hands over her breasts, lingering in the doorway, grinding her teeth, glaring at the man who had stolen the only thing that really mattered.

Her work was her anchor and the darned waters had changed on her—she was no longer tethered to rock, she was drifting and she hated it.

She’d even emailed the girls an SOS in desperation to get them over to her place tonight to help her with this dilemma.

How was she going to get the information she needed out of the guy? It was one problem she could do with help with.

Tahlia bit her bottom lip. She didn’t like asking for help…would play it down tonight and smoothly draw their wisdom without sounding needy.

She didn’t need anyone.

He cleared his throat. ‘So you’re here.’

She nodded, looking away from the window to his paintings on the walls. ‘Ye-es.’ Did he suspect she was going to give the note a close encounter with the shredder and plead ignorance of receiving it rather than accept his invitation?

But she was a professional who was going to use the opportunity of lunch to find out exactly what was on Case’s CV that entitled him to her job.

He stood up. ‘Ready for lunch?’

‘Sure, but why are we going to lunch?’ she asked carefully, keeping her eyes on him and not on the view.

‘I really need to come up to speed fast. Find out about the office dynamics as quickly as possible to maximise my position here.’

She couldn’t help but smile. He sounded just like she would if she was dropped into his situation, although she would never crush the dreams of someone else who’d earned the promotion through damned hard work.

Darrington straightened his suit jacket, the fabric looking even finer and more expensive as he got closer to her. It must have cost a fortune to have it made from a fabric like that, and to hug his wide shoulders, taunting everyone in the vicinity…

Who was this guy?

She had to find out and then do something about him…

‘What?’ he asked, his voice deep and husky, his gaze on her mouth.

She shook herself, trying to stop the smile.

His blue eyes glittered. ‘Your smile is—’

‘Hungry. I’m hungry.’ She cast a look at her watch. ‘I’ll meet you at Sammy’s, the coffee shop, in half an hour, okay?’

He nodded, his gaze still on her lips.

She tried to smother the smile, tried to think of something else other than sweet revenge for every thwarted nobody who’d been stomped on by a rich somebody.

She didn’t want him to guess what she was up to.

She hoped he liked surprises.