Читать книгу Australia: In Bed with the Boss: The Marriage Decider / Their Wedding Day / His Boardroom Mistress - Emma Darcy, Emma Darcy - Страница 11

AMY had just finished filing copies of the letters she’d sent when Jake erupted into her office.

“Grab your handbag,” he commanded. “We’re off.”

“Where to?”

“I’ll explain on the way.” He checked his watch as he crossed her office to the door. “We’ve got precisely twenty-five minutes to make the rendezvous.”

Amy grabbed her handbag and scooted after him.

Jake had the door open for her. She strode into the corridor and summoned the elevator, glad they were going to be involved in some outside activity. Jake would be busy with other people who would take his focus off her and she could get back to feeling relatively normal in his company again.

She always enjoyed these meetings with clients, watching Jake work his brand of magic on them. “Who’s the target?” she asked as they stepped into the elevator together.

“Not who. What,” he said enigmatically, pressing the ground floor button.

“A new boat?”

He shot her a look of exasperation as the elevator descended. “We do not deal in boats, Amy. Only in yachts,” he reminded her.

“Sorry. Slip of the tongue.”

“Watch it,” he advised darkly. “I want my P.A. to impress the man we’re going to meet.”

“What’s his name?”

“Ted Durkin of Durkin and Harris. Big property dealers.”

The name meant nothing to her but clearly it was well known to Jake. The elevator opened onto the re-ception area before she had time to question him. Jake steered her out and pointed her to the stairwell that led down to the back of the building where he parked his car in a private yard reserved for himself and clients.

“Kate,” he called to his front woman, “we’re out of the office. Take messages.”

“When will you be back?”

“Don’t know. If it’s anything urgent I can be reached on my mobile.”

He hurried Amy down the stairs and outside, using the remote button on his key to unlock the BMW M3 supercar which he currently fancied. Amy headed for the passenger side of the two-door coupe. Haste precluded courtesy. They both took their seats and Jake handed her a folded piece of notepaper as he switched on the ignition.

“What’s this?”

“Where we’re going. Better get out the Gregory’s Street Directory and navigate for me. Haven’t got time for wrong turns. I’m right to Military Road. After that, you direct me.”

She extracted the guide book from the glove box and settled back for the ride. The scribbled list on the notepaper did not enlighten her as to their destination. In fact, it looked as though Jake had picked up the wrong sheet. What was written appeared to be information about a woman.

Her mouth curled. It seemed he did research on them, as well. “This says, ‘Estelle, 26, 8, no smoking, no pets, no WP…”’

“Wild parties,” Jake elaborated. “The address is 26 Estelle Road, Balmoral. Apartment 8. The rest are the conditions for rental.”

Amy’s sardonic humour dried up. Her heart per-formed a double loop. She waited until it settled back into seminormal rhythm, counting to ten in the meantime. “I take it this is for me,” she said as calmly as she could.

“If you like it and if we can swing it.”

“Jake, this is not your business.” He’d been en-croaching on her private life all morning. She had to put a stop to it before it got completely out of hand.

“I said I’d look into it for you,” he replied, unshaken from his purpose.

“You said you’d make some calls, not escort me to view places during business hours. I cannot accept…”

“It’s almost the lunch hour,” he reasoned. “You’re always obliging about working overtime in emergencies. The least I can do is this small favour in return.”

“This is not an emergency, Jake,” she argued, barely holding on to her temper. “I can look for an apartment—if I want to move from the one at Bondi—in my own time.”

He frowned at her. “Why are you nit-picking? There’s no harm in looking at a place you might like. It could be the ideal change for you.”

Amy stubbornly stuck to her guns. “You could have given me the address and…”

“No good! You need me with you for this one. I’m your reference. I pressured Ted into showing it to you ahead of his listing it and he’s on his way there now to meet us. He’s a handy business contact, Amy. I wouldn’t like to waste his time.”

She heaved an exasperated sigh, accepting she’d been outmanoeuvred. He was her boss. It would be wrong for her to mess with his contacts. But a stand had to be taken. She didn’t want him pulling strings on her behalf, entangling her in them without her knowledge or permission.

“You should have discussed it with me first. I haven’t made up my mind on this.” And she hated the feeling of being steam-rollered by Jake.

“There’s no obligation to take it. Sounded like a great deal for you, though. Worth seeing if it’s as good as Ted says. And I might add, he’s proved spot-on in his advice to me in the past.”

“What’s so great about it?” she demanded tersely.

“Location for a start. Ted reckoned it was a pearl for the rent being asked.”

“How much?”

He rolled out a sum that was only marginally lower than the rent for the Bondi apartment. Even with her new salary, it would take a bigger chunk of her income than she felt was reasonable for her.

“Ted told me it could command a much higher rent,” Jake burbled on. “But the owner’s fussy about getting the right tenant in and has scaled the rent to suit. The apartment was recently purchased and is in the process of being refurbished. The owner doesn’t want any damage to it, so…”

“No smoking, no pets, no wild parties.” Amy looked at the list again. “What does ‘SCW’ stand for?”

“Single career woman. Someone who respects property and has a tidy mind.” Jake flashed her a teasing smile. “I said you fitted the bill. Never met a woman more intent on keeping things in order.”

Including you, Amy thought darkly. He was such a tempting devil, too attractive for his own good, and he thought he could charm his way into anything. Not my life, she fiercely resolved. It was bad enough being dumped by Steve. If she let Jake get too close to her, she had a terrible suspicion he had the power to steal her soul. Then where would she be?

Every self-protective instinct screamed alarm in his presence and today the scream was louder than ever. Raw and vulnerable from the weekend’s revelations, Amy admitted to herself she was frightened of Jake slipping past her guard, frightened of the consequences. She fretted over the knowledge he now shared that Steve couldn’t be used as a barrier between them anymore.

Though that wasn’t entirely right.

Steve had been much more to her than a barrier against Jake.

Much more, she insisted to herself.

She opened the Gregory’s Street Directory and started plotting their course to Estelle Street, trying her utmost to ignore the man beside her. His power was threatening to swamp her; powerful masculinity, powerful car, powerful friends, and they were all being used on her. Or so it felt.

We’ve got Amy Taylor right where we want her.

Not precisely.

A bit of manoeuvring.

The provocative words clicked through her mind again, conjuring up another scenario. An apartment in Balmoral was Jake’s idea. He’d given her a raise in salary so she could afford it. He’d found one for her, supposedly to order. He’d tricked her into his car so he could take her there, pressured her with the importance of a business contact.

Was it some kind of put-up job between him and his friendly property dealer, Ted Durkin?

But why?

What good would it do Jake to have her in Balmoral?

He was screwing her up again.

The only way to be sure of anything was to thwart him by making her own decisions her own way. In the meantime she’d play along like a good little girl. Which meant giving directions from the directory.

Amy had never lived on the north side of Sydney and didn’t know the Middle Harbour area at all. Her only previous reference to Balmoral was an interview she’d read about a TV celebrity who lived there and loved it. Which undoubtedly meant it was very classy. And expensive. Any place on the harbour was expensive.

Having found Estelle Street on the map, Amy stared at its location with a sense of disbelief. It was only one block back from The Esplanade which ran around the beach. It faced onto a park that extended to The Esplanade, giving residents a view of greenery, as well an uninterrupted vista of the water beyond it. This had to be a prime location.

She frowned over the rental Jake had mentioned. It was steep for her to pay alone, but it had to be amazingly cheap for an apartment on this street. Even the most run-down place would surely command double that amount, and Jake had said it was being refurbished.

“This doesn’t make sense,” she muttered.

“What?” Jake inquired.

“I’ve found Estelle Street. It’s almost on the beach. The property there has got to be million dollar stuff. Even with the strict rules, the owner could ask a really high rent.”

Jake must have made some under-the-table arrangement with Ted Durkin. She just didn’t trust this sequence of events. Or coincidences.

“I did tell you Ted said it was a bargain. For the right person,” Jake reminded her. “There is the catch of the six months’ lease,” he added in the throwaway tone of an afterthought. “But even if this is only a stopgap place for you…”

“What catch?”

She’d been waiting for a “catch.” Jake was being altogether too persuasive about this wonderful chance for her. There had to be a “catch.”

“Seems the owner plans to take up residence there. Only waiting on selling the current home. Doesn’t want to hurry that.” He sent her a wise look. “Always best to hang out for the asking price. It’s a losing game, selling in haste.”

“So it’s only for six months.”

“Mmh…more like a house-sitter than a tenant, according to Ted. Someone who’ll value the place and look after it. Never a good idea to leave a property empty for an extended period of time.”

It was beginning to make more sense. Maybe her suspicions were unwarranted. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that Jake might want to do her a good turn. If she hadn’t overheard those words…was she reading too much into them?

Whatever the truth of the matter, it didn’t make a great deal of sense for her to shift house if she had to shift again in six months’ time. Changing apartments was a high-cost exercise what with putting up bond money and the expense of moving her furniture, not to mention the hassle of packing and unpacking. Nevertheless, she was curious to see the apartment now. Especially since Jake was investing so much time and talk on it. She still wanted to know why.

They were well along Military Road so she started giving him directions. Within a few minutes he’d made the turns she gave and they were heading down a hill to Balmoral Beach. Amy was entranced by the view. The water was a dazzling blue this morning. A fleet of small yachts were riding at anchor, adding their interest to the picturesque bay. The curved shoreline had a welcoming stretch of clean sand, edged by manicured lawns, beautiful trees and walkways.

This beach had a quiet, exclusive air about it, unlike the broad sweep of Bondi which invited vast public crowds. Even the populated side of The Esplanade looked tidy and respectable, no litter, no grubbiness, not a tatty appearance anywhere. Amy was highly impressed by its surface charm, wishing she had time to explore properly. She made a mental note to come here another day. After all, with Steve gone, she would have plenty of free days to do whatever she pleased.

They turned off into the street beside the park and found the address with no trouble at all. The block of apartments was on the next corner, a fairly old block in red brick and only four storeys high with garages underneath. Amy guessed Apartment 8 would be on the top floor, and found herself hoping it was on the corner with the balcony running around two sides, both east and north.

“There’s Ted waiting for us,” Jake pointed out, waving to the man standing by the entrance to the block.

As they cruised past in search of a parking place, Amy caught only a glimpse of the agent, a broad, bulky figure, smartly attired in a blue business shirt, striped tie, and dark trousers. Jake slotted the car into the kerb only twenty metres away. Amy checked her watch as they alighted. Twelve-thirty. They were on time. Ted Durkin had arrived early. No fault of theirs, but both she and Jake automatically covered the distance at a fast pace.

Amy was conscious of being scrutinised as they approached. It wasn’t a sexual once-over, more a matching up to specifications. The agent looked to be in his late forties, his iron-grey hair thinning on top, making his slight frown very visible. It only cleared when Jake thrust out his hand to him, drawing attention away from her.

“Good of you to give us this opportunity, Ted,” he enthused genially.

“Not at all. You’ve put business my way in the past, Jake. Appreciate it.”

“This is my P.A., Amy Taylor.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Durkin,” Amy chimed in, offering her hand.

He took it and gave her a rueful little smile. “To tell you the truth, Miss Taylor, I wasn’t expecting someone quite so young.”

Single career woman— had he been envisaging a spinsterish woman in her late thirties or forties, someone entrenched in her career with little else in her life?

One thing was suddenly clear. This had to be a bona fide deal or Ted Durkin wouldn’t be raising questions.

Without pausing to examine her eagerness to dismiss objections to her possible tenancy, Amy rushed to reassure him.

“I’m twenty-eight, Mr. Durkin, and I’ve held a job since I was sixteen. That’s twelve years of solid employment, working my way up to my current position.”

“Very responsible,” Jake slipped in emphatically.

Ted Durkin shot him a chiding look. “You didn’t mention how very attractive your P.A. is, Jake.” Another apologetic look at her. “No offence to you, Miss Taylor, but the owner of the apartment was very specific about…”

“No wild parties,” she finished for him. “That’s not my style, Mr. Durkin.”

“Amy’s been with me for two years, Ted,” Jake said. “I really can vouch for her character. An ultraclean living person.”

“Uh-huh.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “No boyfriend? I don’t mean to get personal. It’s a matter of satisfying the owner. Did Jake explain…?”

“Yes, he did.”

Regardless if she was prepared to take the apartment or not, Amy bridled against the sense of being rejected, especially after the painful blow from Steve. She found herself pouring out a persuasive argument, uncaring that it was personal business. Jake knew it anyway and she felt compelled to convince Ted Durkin she was an appropriate tenant.

“Actually I’m looking for time to myself, Mr. Durkin. I’ve been in a rather long-term relationship which has just broken up.” She grimaced, appealing to his sympathy. “No chance of a reconciliation, so I really am on my own and I don’t intend rushing into socialising. Six months here would do me very nicely, right away from where I’ve been.”

“Ah!” It was the sound of satisfaction. “Well, I’ll take you up and show you around. It’s not quite ready for occupation. Painters are in at the moment.”

Won a stay of judgement, Amy thought, ridiculously pleased. She glanced at Jake as they entered the building, wanting to share the achievement with him since he’d helped. He wasn’t looking at her but she caught a smug little smile on his face and then wanted to kick herself.

She’d ended up playing his game, showing positive enthusiasm for his plan to move her out of Bondi and to Balmoral.

I was only saving his face in front of Ted Durkin, Amy quickly excused herself. She could still say no to the apartment. There was no commitment until she signed the lease for it. In fact, if she decided to move—in her own good time—it was much more practical to find a place that didn’t have a time limit on it.

Jake Carter hadn’t won this round yet!