Читать книгу Australia: In Bed with the Boss: The Marriage Decider / Their Wedding Day / His Boardroom Mistress - Emma Darcy, Emma Darcy - Страница 18

DESPITE Jake’s assurances, Amy’s nerves were strung tight as she walked down Alfred Street on Monday morning. Resolutions kept pumping through her mind. She was not going to look at Jake and see him naked. She had to focus every bit of her concentration on the job. And act naturally.

Acting naturally was very important. No overt tension, no signs of agitation, no silly slips of the tongue. Think before you speak, Amy recited over and over again. Pretend it’s last week. Pretend it’s next week. No matter what she felt in the hours ahead of her, it would pass.

Determined not to falter, Amy pushed past the entrance doors to their office building and strode down the foyer to the elevators. “Hi, Kate!” she called to the receptionist, and practised a bright smile.

“Well, that’s a happier start to the week,” Kate remarked, smiling back. “No Monday blues. Things must have picked up for you.”

Had it only been a week since Steve dumped her? Amy felt as though she’d shifted a long way since then. And she had. All the way to Balmoral. Which was absolutely lovely.

“Feeling good,” she declared, pressing the Up button with blithe panache. Positive thinking had to help. “Boss in?”

“Up and running.”

“How did your weekend go?” Amy asked, wondering if she could make a friend of Kate.

“I Christmas shopped till I dropped,” she replied with a mock groan.

Christmas! Barely three weeks away. And she had no one to share it with this year. No one to buy presents for. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t celebrate it herself, buy a Christmas tree for the apartment and think of different things to do. She was not going to feel depressed. She had her composure in place and she simply couldn’t afford to let anything crack it.

The elevators doors opened and Amy stepped in, throwing Kate a cheery wave. “See you later.”

The ride in the elevator was mercifully short. Amy carried the power of positive thinking right to Jake’s office. Their connecting door was open. She gave a courtesy knock and stepped inside, exuding all the confidence she could muster.

“Good morning,” she trilled, smiling so hard her face ached.

Jake was reading a brochure on planes, chair leaning back, feet up on the desk. He looked over it, cocked an eyebrow at her and said, “The top of the morning to you, too.”

“Start with the mail?” she asked.

“I’ve already looked at the E-mail messages. Go and read the inbox and get up to date. We’ll deal with the Erikson inquiry first. And check the diary, Amy. We’ll have to set up a meeting with him.”

“Right!”

She was almost out of his office when he raised his voice in command.

“Hold it!”

Amy’s heart jumped and pitter-pattered all around her chest. She held on to the door and popped her head around it. “Something else?” she inquired.

Jake had swung his feet off the desk and was leaning forward, beetling a frown at her. “You’re wearing black. Didn’t I specifically tell you my P.A. was not to wear black?”

It was true. He had. “I forgot,” she said. Which was also true.

“Black does not fit our image, Amy,” he said sternly. “Black is safe. Black is neutral…”

Which was precisely why she had chosen it this morning, having dithered through her entire wardrobe.

He wagged a finger at her. “Black is not to be worn again.”

“Right!” she agreed.

“Just as well we don’t have any important client meetings today,” he muttered, then shot her a sharp look. “You’re not in a black mood, are you?”

“No!” she denied swiftly.

“Good!” His expression brightened. The familiar teasing twinkled into his eyes as he lifted his feet back on the desk. “You can wear red anytime you like. You look stunning in red.”

He picked up the brochure again and Amy skipped out to start work, her heart dancing instead of pitterpattering. Everything was normal. Everything was fine. Jake was as good as his word. Life could go on as it had before.

Almost.

Amy found the to-and-fro between them wasn’t quite as easy as the day wore on. Not that she could lay any fault at Jake’s door. Not once did he do or say anything to discomfort her along intimate lines. The problem was all hers.

When Jake bent over to pick up some papers he’d dropped, and the taut contours of his backside were clearly outlined, his trousers just disappeared and she could see him stepping out of the bath in all his natural glory. When he sat down and crossed his legs, the bulge of his powerful thighs vividly reminded her of their strong, bouncy support when she’d sat astride them. His mouth generated quite a few unsettling moments, too. She hoped Jake didn’t notice these little distractions.

Lust, she decided, was not a runaway train. It was more like a guerilla soldier who could creep up and capture you before you even knew he was coming. But the memories of that special time with Jake were still very fresh, she told herself. Given a few days, they wouldn’t leap to the forefront of her mind quite so much.

As it turned out, by the end of the week, Amy was really enjoying her job again, feeling a sense of achievement in meeting the challenges Jake regularly tossed at her, countering his bouts of teasing with the occasional smart quip, helping with the deals he set up and made for their clients. Best of all, without her old hackles rising all the time, she was open-minded enough to realise Jake truly did value and appreciate her contribution to his business.

He showed it in many ways, generous with compliments if what she’d done warranted them, giving consideration to her opinions and impressions of clients, readily taking suggestions if he thought them effective.

She was also more acutely aware of the close rapport they shared, where just a look conveyed a message which was instantly understood. Two years of familiarity did build that kind of knowledge of each other, she reasoned, yet she was beginning to feel she was more attuned to Jake’s way of thinking than she’d ever been to Steve’s, so the longevity of a relationship did not necessarily count.

As she left the office on Friday, she was wishing there was no weekend and it would be work as usual tomorrow. Which showed her she was becoming too dependent on Jake’s company. Get a life, she sternly told herself.

On Saturday she canvassed several gyms between Balmoral and Milsons Point to see what equipment and classes they offered, comparing their fees, chatting to instructors, appraising their clienteles. She did some research on dance schools, as well, having always fancied learning tap-dancing. Wait for classes to be resumed in the new year, she was advised.

Saturday night proved difficult. It didn’t matter what she tried to do, her mind kept wandering to Jake. She couldn’t imagine him sitting at home by himself. He’d be involved in some social activity—a party, a date—and one or more women would be enjoying his charm and attention, beautiful sexy women who wouldn’t say no to an experience with Jake Carter.

Envy frayed any peace of mind over her decision to cut any further intimate involvement with him. But it was the right decision, she insisted to herself. At least she was saved from the bitterness of becoming his exlover when he started favouring someone else. And her job was safe. No risk of a nasty blow-up there. But “the good memory” lingered with her a long time when she finally took herself off to bed.

She spent Sunday on the beach, determined to relax and enjoy what she had within easy reach. It passed the time pleasantly. She succeeded in pushing Jake to the edge of her mind for most of the day. On Monday morning, however, her hand automatically reached for the scarlet linen shift. She told herself it was stupid to want to look “stunning” for him, but she wore it anyway.

“Ah!” he said when she walked into his office to greet him. It was a very appreciative “Ah!” and the wolfish gleam in his eyes as he looked her up and down put a zing in her soul.

“Image,” she said pertly. “We’re meeting with Erikson today.”

“Of course,” he said and grinned at her.

She felt ridiculously happy all day.

The buoyant mood continued for most of the week.

The first niggle of worry came on Friday.

She’d finished the monthly course of contraceptive pills she’d been taking for years and her cycle always worked with clocklike regularity. Her period should have started today. So why hadn’t it?

Her mind kept zinging to the night she’d forgotten to take a pill, but she’d taken two the next day to make up for it. Though it was actually the next night—not the morning or the day—when she’d discovered the error and taken double the dose. One missed night. It wouldn’t matter normally. She had doubled up before, when she’d accidentally missed one over the years, and nothing had gone wrong.

But this time…this time…

Impossible to forget which night it was…she and Jake losing themselves in spontaneous combustion…and the deep, inner sense of mingling…melding inextricably.

Had their mating…such a terribly evocative word—borne fruit?

It was a nerve-shattering thought. Amy kept pushing it away. It would be the worst irony in the world if she’d fallen pregnant, just when she was trying to get her life in reasonable order after her long-term partner had taken off because he’d got another woman pregnant. Not that she wanted Steve back. That was finished. But Jake…as the father…it didn’t bear thinking about.

Her cycle was messed up a day. That was all it was. Any minute it could correct itself. Tomorrow she’d be laughing about this silly worrying. One missed pill…it was nothing in the big picture. Her body wouldn’t play such a dirty trick on her when she’d been protecting it against such a consequence for years.

Saturday brought her no relief. By Sunday afternoon Amy was in full panic. She bought a pregnancy test kit from a twenty-four-hour pharmacy. She couldn’t bear the uncertainty.

The uncertainty ended on Monday morning.

It didn’t matter how much she wanted to disbelieve the results of the test, two deadly pink lines were looking her in the face, not changing to anything else, and according to the instructions with the test kit, this meant she was pregnant. She checked the instructions again and again. No mistake. Pink was positive.

Just maybe, she thought frantically, the kit was faulty. Best see a doctor. Get a blood test. She looked through the telephone directory, found a medical centre at Mosman along the route she drove to work, then considered what lie she could tell to cover her late arrival at the office.

Impossible to say she needed to see a doctor. Jake would ask why. Jake wouldn’t leave it alone until he found out. A flat tyre on her car, she decided. It could happen to anyone.

The visit to the doctor was a nightmare. Yes, missing a pill at a critical time could result in pregnancy. Test kits were usually reliable but a blood test would give absolute confirmation. Amy watched the needle going in and almost fainted as the blood started filling up the tube, blood that was going to tell her the awful truth. A baby! She closed her eyes. No, no, no, she begged. Having a baby—Jake’s baby—made life too impossible.

She’d have the results in twenty-four hours, the doctor said. All she had to do was telephone the surgery and ask for them. She checked her watch. Nine-thirty. Twenty-four more hours of hell to get through, a third of those hours with the man who’d done this to her.

Not intentionally.

Though he should have used protection…should at least have asked her if she was protected. In which case she would have said yes, so there was no point in blaming him. Nevertheless, she might have remembered to take the wretched pill if he’d asked. Spontaneous combustion might be a very special experience but the “good memory” was swiftly gathering a mountain of savage regrets.

Jake, the rake…How would he react to being told he’d sown one too many oats? With his P.A., no less.

But she didn’t have to face that yet.

Not yet.

Twenty-four hours.

Amy didn’t know how she got through the day with Jake. He asked about the flat tyre and she blathered on about it, excusing the time away from the office. She was aware of him frowning at her several times. It was almost time for her to leave when he asked, “Is something wrong, Amy?” and her glazed eyes cleared enough to see he was observing her very keenly.

Would their child have those wolf eyes?

Her stomach cramped.

“No,” she forced out. “Everything’s fine.” Except I’m probably pregnant.

“You haven’t been with me, today,” he remarked testingly.

“Sorry. I have been a bit scatter-brained. Christmas coming on…”

“Planning anything special?”

The excuse had popped into her mind but she was totally blank about it and had to grope for a reply. “No. Not really. Just…well, I guess I was thinking about the family I don’t have. Kate Bradley was saying she’d shopped till she dropped and…” Amy shrugged, having run out of ideas to explain herself. “At least I’m saved that hassle.”