Читать книгу A Boss In A Million - HELEN BROOKS, Helen Brooks - Страница 6

‘LONDON? Oh, Cory, don’t. Don’t leave. Things will work out for you here; I know they will. Just be patient.’

Cory Masters stared back into the face of her friend, her dear friend, the man she had known all her life and loved just as long. How could she tell him that the reasons she had just given for leaving her sleepy little rural home town nestled deep in the green folds of North Yorkshire were lies? The real cause of her intended flight to the anonymity of the metropolis was him, Vivian Batley-Thomas.

Cory smiled brightly, her deep sea-green eyes with their fascinating hint of purple determinedly clear and open and giving no hint of her inward turmoil. ‘It’s all arranged, Vivian.’ She flicked back an errant strand of silky dark brown hair that had blown across her cheek as she continued, her voice cheerful, ‘I had the interview a week ago but I didn’t think I stood a chance of getting the job when I saw some of the opposition, but then this morning Mr Hunter’s secretary phoned. I start in four weeks’ time so I can have a few weeks with her showing me the ropes before she leaves to follow her husband to his new job in the States at the end of May.’

‘But if you were thinking of something like this why didn’t you say?’ Vivian asked bewilderedly, his voice holding a slightly plaintive note and his boyishly handsome face set in a dark frown. ‘And there’s the wedding and everything; Carole was relying on you to help her with all the arrangements—she just hasn’t got a clue regarding anything practical.’ His voice was indulgent rather than critical and then it changed as he added, ‘You are the chief bridesmaid after all.’

‘I know.’ The smile was being kept in place by sheer will-power now. If anyone knew, she knew. Chief bridesmaid to the beautiful newcomer to the market town who had captured Vivian’s heart from the first time he had seen her at one of the local barn dances. Carole James, with her long blonde hair and deep blue eyes, hourglass figure and the sort of legs that went on for ever. And she was nice too, Cory thought wretchedly. A bit giggly and helpless, and she’d definitely never win Mastermind, but nevertheless nice.

‘And I can still be Carole’s bridesmaid so don’t worry. Most of the arrangements can be sorted before I go—that won’t be a problem—and you’ve already booked the church and the village hall with your uncle, haven’t you?’ Vivian’s uncle was the local vicar. ‘And I’ll be home for the odd weekend before September if there’s anything Carole needs help with,’ she added soothingly.

‘Of course there’ll be things she’ll need help with.’ Vivian’s voice was both anxious and irritated, and for a moment Cory’s pain was swallowed in anger.

How could he be so…so thick? she asked herself silently. They had always lived in each other’s pockets from the day they had first started kindergarten together, and with their families living only three doors from each other had spent all their childhood and youth in each other’s homes. His parents were almost as close to her as her own. And even when they had gone to their respective universities and met other people none of their relationships had come close to what they had with each other.

Not that anything had ever been said exactly. But it hadn’t needed to be. She had known he was the one for her and vice versa. Or so she had thought… More fool her, she added bitterly.

‘Vivian, I know Carole has no family of her own but your mother will advise in any way she can.’ Cory forced her voice to be calm and unruffled. ‘The village hall is booked for the reception already and your mother knows the caterers your uncle suggested. There’s really no problem. Everything is in hand.’

‘But she was relying on your moral support—’

‘She’ll have you for moral support for goodness’ sake!’ It was a snap; Cory’s patience only went so far. Her mother was a redhead and in a certain light the deep auburn highlights in her own dark brown hair bore testimony to the fact that she had a good number of her mother’s vibrant fiery genes in her.

‘So you really intend to go?’ Vivian asked tightly after a small but very pregnant pause, his mouth pulling into a thin line.

‘Yes, I really intend to go.’ Cory’s voice was equally tight. She’d go tomorrow if she could. She’d had quite enough the last few months of watching Vivian billing and cooing with the curvaceous blonde, and the engagement party the week before had been an ordeal she wouldn’t wish on her own worst enemy. It was over six months to the middle of September, and she would never survive the course if she had to remain in Thirsk all that time. For some strange reason Carole seemed determined to make her her best friend.

‘Then there’s nothing more to be said,’ Vivian said stiffly, and then, in repudiation of that statement, he continued, ‘But why you couldn’t have put your career on hold for a few more months and carried on working at Stanley & Thornton’s I don’t know. You say you want a change and that a new job and surroundings will stretch you, and I can understand that at your age—’ she’d hit him, she really would, she’d hit him! ‘—but another six months wouldn’t have made any difference in the overall run of things.’

‘Perhaps at my great age I didn’t think I’d got time to hang about,’ Cory bit out sharply as Vivian walked towards the door. Carole, at just twenty years of age, was four years younger than Cory and Vivian and had already pointed the fact out several times in her cute, open-eyed way that made Cory feel like Methuselah. ‘Maybe I thought I’d got to grab at life before it passed me by?’ Even as she spoke the words she realised there was more than a little self-prophecy in them. She should have left Yorkshire years ago.

Vivian didn’t pause in his retreat from her mother’s pleasant rose-coloured lounge, and after a second or two, when she heard the front door bang behind him, Cory took a long, deep, reviving breath and forced back the hot tears that were burning the back of her eyes, blinking desperately as she raised her chin high.

No more. No more crying! She willed herself to stand perfectly still and for her heartbeat to return to normal. She had cried enough tears in the last few months to fill the ocean and she was tired of feeling so desperate. She was leaving Thirsk in four weeks’ time and even if the post of secretary to the illustrious head of Hunter Operations didn’t work out—she hadn’t mentioned to Vivian or her parents that the offer was conditional—she wouldn’t be back to stay. She’d rather crawl through red-hot coals of fire.

All her dreams, all her aspirations since she had first learnt to toddle, had been tied up with the tall, handsome man who had just left the house so abruptly and she was going to have to learn how to face the rest of her life without him, and, having learnt it, to carve a future for herself. It wasn’t the path she would have chosen, it certainly wasn’t the path that was going to bring her the sort of cosy family joy and harmony she had foreseen for herself, but there had been enough crying over spilt milk and she didn’t like the person she was turning into.

Her back straightened and her shoulders pulled back as she emphasised the thought. She wasn’t a whinger. She’d never been a whinger, and enough was enough. She was young, she was intelligent, and there was life after Vivian Batley-Thomas…gorgeous as he was. No! The last thought had crept in all by itself, and Cory frowned determinedly. She couldn’t afford to think like that any more, even for a moment. Gorgeous he might be, available he wasn’t. End of story.

‘Cory, how nice to see you again, and please, call me Gillian.’

It was a cold April morning four weeks later, and, having taken up residence in her compact but attractive bedsitter the Friday before, Cory had just nervously entered the high-rise offices of Hunter Operations. The building was big, flamboyant and luxurious, and left the neat little offices of Stanley & Thornton’s, Engineering Specialists, in the cold, but Gillian Cox’s smile was warm and went some way to alleviating the panic Cory was feeling as she faced the chairman’s secretary on this, the first morning of the new job.

‘Hello, Gillian.’ Amazingly her voice sounded nearly normal. ‘It’s nice to see you again too. How are you?’

‘Rushed off my feet, half insane and heading for a nervous breakdown. Other than that, fine.’ Gillian’s smile widened. She had kindly come to Reception to welcome Cory personally and now walked her over to the lift, saying brightly before pressing the button, ‘You must be dying to meet Max; it’s not often one doesn’t get to meet one’s boss until the first day of employment, is it?’

‘No.’ Cory’s voice was weak. She’d thought that herself!

‘But he’s back from that awful Far East session of conferences and tours, and it’s proved very fruitful which is the main thing. And you’ll get on fine with him, Cory, really. He’s a boss in a million. If it hadn’t been for Colin landing such a wonderful job in the States I’d never have dreamt of leaving Hunter Operations, especially after fifteen years with Max, but it’s very important to Colin that we begin the cocktail round and so on as soon as possible. You know how these huge conglomerates work,’ she added cheerily.

No, she didn’t, but she didn’t like to say so.

Gillian was still talking when the lift stopped at the exalted top floor and as the doors slid open to reveal lush thick cream carpets and brushed linen walls, the hushed calm was rudely shattered by a very irate, very male voice bellowing, ‘Gillian? For crying out loud, woman! Where’s that fax from Katchui?’

Cory’s eyes shot to the doorway halfway down the wide corridor and to the big dark man filling it, but Max Hunter had eyes for no one but his cool and apparently unruffable secretary who, after a quick aside for Cory to wait in her own office directly opposite them, glided forward, saying calmly, ‘It’s on your desk, Max, where it’s been for the last three days, but no doubt you’ve buried it under that mountain of paperwork you’ve been looking at all weekend.’

Gillian disappeared through the doorway but it was a moment or two before Cory could force her legs to take her into the other woman’s office, which would soon become hers if this job worked out. Although, having now seen the formidable Max Hunter, she had her doubts about that very thing, she thought a trifle ruefully.

The man in the doorway had been big, very big—at least six feet four—and broad with it. He wasn’t old; Gillian had told her Max Hunter’s father—who had started the Hunter empire in the late fifties—had died fifteen years ago when his son had inherited at the tender age of twenty-three, but her glimpse of the hard male face and black hair dusted with silver had suggested a man some few years older than his thirty-eight years. And his manner…Cory breathed deeply as she sank into one of the plumply upholstered easy chairs dotted about Gillian’s vast quarters. His manner didn’t exactly tally with this supposed ‘boss in a million’ that Gillian had been so enthusiastic about at her interview.

‘All’s calm again on the western front.’ Gillian was beaming as she bustled through the interconnecting door between her office and that of Max Hunter. ‘He’d got Mr Katchui hanging on on the phone and Max hates to be anything less than one hundred per cent in control,’ she said brightly. ‘Typical man.’

Cory nodded without saying anything; she’d gathered that much for herself. She smoothed down the slim pencil skirt of the new navy blue suit that had cost her an arm and a leg, cleared her throat and had just opened her mouth to ask something intelligent when Gillian completely took the wind out of her sails as she leant forward and said, her voice urgent, ‘Don’t take any notice of how Max is, Cory—his manner and how he talks and everything. He really is a lovely man underneath it all. We’ve always got on great.’

‘You have?’ Cory needed every bit of reassurance she could get.

‘Definitely.’ Gillian nodded firmly. ‘But he just takes a bit of getting used to. He’s very sure about what he wants and even more so about what he doesn’t, and he doesn’t suffer fools gladly. Well, he doesn’t suffer them at all actually.’ She grinned at Cory who bared her teeth in feeble response.

‘And he has very rigid views about people,’ Gillian went on.

This was getting worse by the minute!

‘I interviewed ten applicants on his behalf, you know, and, knowing Max like I do, you were the only one who met his criteria. Some of them were too officious and some not officious enough, one or two had a baby glint in their eyes and dealing with maternity leave and all that paraphernalia would drive Max mad; he’s awful to temps. And he doesn’t appreciate women who titivate all the time, or clock-watch, and he expects one hundred per cent discretion at all times of course.’ She smiled sunnily, her face serene.

‘Of course.’ Cory gulped audibly. She had to take all this as a compliment that she was the one Gillian had thought fitting, she told herself desperately, but right at the moment it was hard. ‘Well, you’ve told me what he doesn’t like, Gillian,’ she said carefully. ‘Perhaps I’d better know the positive side too?’

And then a deep cold voice brought both their heads turning as it said expressionlessly, ‘In essence the five Bs—brains, backbone, breeding, boldness and…’ The pause was deliberate.

‘And?’ She had had to force herself to speak; close to, this man was positively devastating but she dared not let his effect on her show. She had been right in thinking his face was hard, but it was more than that, much more. The dark tanned skin was pulled tight over a chiselled bone structure that was disturbingly masculine, the aquiline nose and strong mouth increasing the impression of severity. But it was the eyes—amazingly beautiful tawny-gold eyes shaded by thick black lashes—which gave his gaze a ruthlessly piercing quality that was totally unnerving and more than a little formidable.

She had never in all her life seen eyes like this man’s, and when added to his overall height and breadth—which she now saw was made up of muscle and bone and not fat—and the perturbingly cruel nature of his magnetic good looks the end result was almost paralysing. She couldn’t believe this was her boss.

‘And beauty,’ he finished laconically, and in the split second before he smiled and moved forward to shake her hand Cory was conscious of that golden light shooting right down to her toes.

She recovered quickly, jumping to her feet and putting out her hand which was swallowed whole in his huge fingers, but she made sure her grip was firm and strong even if her answering smile quivered a little. She guessed he was joking about the beauty—Gillian was immaculately and expensively dressed, and her greying hair was expertly cut in the latest style, but not even her nearest and dearest could have called the homely-faced woman remotely beautiful.

‘So you’re the paragon Gillian was so delighted to unearth,’ he said thoughtfully. His voice had a smoky, husky tone and a faint accent she couldn’t quite place, and was utterly in keeping with the dynamic whole. It made her toes want to curl.

‘I’m Cory Masters, Mr Hunter.’ She had retrieved her hand as soon as possible; the feel of his hard, warm flesh was not improving the state of her nerves. ‘It’s very nice to meet you.’

‘Likewise, and the name’s Max by the way,’ he returned easily.

Max. How on earth was she going to be so familiar as to call him by his first name? Cory thought feverishly. The thought was daunting.

‘Short for Maximilian,’ he continued imperturbably, only a slight narrowing of the brilliant gaze suggesting he was aware of the hasty withdrawal. ‘My father liked to tell the tale that I was christened after one of his favourite film characters, Maximilian the robot, in the film The Black Hole?’ Cory had never heard of it but she nodded anyway. ‘But he admitted privately the name came from the Roman emperor Maximilian I, and that it is from the Latin maximum meaning greatest.’ He eyed her lazily, his mouth quirking.

Robot or Roman emperor, the name fitted, Cory told herself with a faint touch of hysteria. He was easily the most overwhelming individual she had ever come across, and she had committed herself to work for this man as his secretary-cum-personal assistant. She must be mad! She was way, way out of her league here.

‘Now, I understand from Gillian that for the next couple of weeks you are mainly going to observe and digest,’ he said coolly. ‘The following month you will assist and hopefully by the last week will have become autonomous. Ask any questions you like, dig, delve, call Gillian in the middle of the night if you feel so inclined, but don’t bother me. I don’t know how the office out here works and I don’t want to; that’s what I pay a secretary for. I expect you to be able to put your finger on anything I want at a moment’s notice, and I never accept excuses. Is that clear?’ he added smoothly.

‘Perfectly.’ There was something in his tone that had put Cory’s back up although she couldn’t have explained what, and now she found herself saying, before she could stop herself, ‘I take it from this morning’s incident that you expect your secretary to be as fully conversant with every item on your desk as she is of her own?’ She had kept her tone pleasant, even conversational, and in the pause before he spoke again she could almost see the razor-sharp brain trying to assess exactly where she was coming from.

‘Absolutely,’ he agreed with apparent unconcern, but again the amber eyes had narrowed just the merest iota and Cory knew her little jibe about the buried fax had been received, analysed, and filed away under the correct heading of sarcasm.

Which made her crazy, she told herself in the next instant, when after a curt nod of his head he turned and disappeared back through the interconnecting door, shutting it sharply behind him. Why start off on the wrong foot right from word go? Oh, she should have kept her mouth well and truly shut! She was her own worst enemy. Her father was always saying the same about her fiery, volatile mother, and somehow in Max Hunter’s authoritative presence all her father’s calm, placid genes had died and all her mother’s reckless ones had come rushing to the fore.

‘Right.’ Gillian’s voice was neutral. ‘Let’s get you acquainted with all the companies under the Hunter Operations umbrella first. There’s a breakdown on that desk over there with all relevant facts and figures. Most of it is confidential. I’ve also done a rough précis of the main people, both within Hunter Operations and without, whom you’re likely to deal with, and any background—hang-ups, problems, difficult to communicate with or easy, that sort of thing—to help you along a bit. Could you destroy those sheets in the shredder once they’re in your head because at least half of them would feel inclined to have me up for libel if they read them?’

‘Thank you.’ The other woman’s smile was infectious and it made Cory feel a little better, although she found her hands were trembling when she took the seat at the desk Gillian indicated. Max Hunter was probably congratulating himself right now for the trial period stipulated in the job offer, she thought grimly, smoothing back a shining strand of dark hair which had escaped the prim French pleat at the back of her head, and she couldn’t really blame him. But she intended to make sure that if, or perhaps she should say when, he decided not to make her a permanent offer he wouldn’t be able to use the quality of her work or her dedication as the excuse.

Cory was deep in a very interesting and, she had to admit, somewhat aspersive review of Max Hunter’s current main competitor when she heard the buzzer on Gillian’s phone. ‘Yes, Max?’ There was a moment or two of silence and then, ‘Oh, yes, that’s fine with me. I’ll just check… Cory?’

Cory lifted her head enquiringly to Gillian’s slightly bemused voice, and saw the older woman was staring at her with a studiously blank face which gave absolutely nothing away.

‘Max was wondering if you are doing anything for lunch? He suggests taking us to Montgomery’s as a little celebration of your first day at Hunter Operations. I’m free, are you?’

‘Montgomery’s?’ The name meant nothing to Cory—she had only been in London just over a week—but from the other woman’s tone it clearly wasn’t a fast-food restaurant. ‘Yes, that would be lovely,’ she managed faintly. And then, once Gillian had relayed their acceptance, she asked, ‘What exactly is Montgomery’s, Gillian?’

‘It’s a restaurant,’ Gillian said carefully. ‘A very…nice restaurant. I’ve been there once or twice before and the food is very good.’ She was trying to be offhand but the message was clear.

‘Right.’ Cory’s heart sank still further. No doubt men like Max Hunter took their secretarys to such places all the time, but she hadn’t had Gillian’s experience. She just hoped she didn’t let anyone down. This was probably some kind of a test?

The remainder of the morning sped by as her brain tried to assimilate a hundred and one facts, and just before twelve, at Gillian’s urging, she made use of the little pink and white cloakroom attached to the secretary’s office to freshen up before lunch.

‘What are you doing here, Cory?’ She took a long breath as she stared at the wide-eyed girl in the mirror. The discreetly elegant hairdo, the circumspect make-up, the expensive suit and Italian leather shoes—this wasn’t her. Who was she trying to fool? She wasn’t going to carry this off, no way, no how. She should never have tried for this job—it was way, way out of her league. Huge, anxious, sea-washed green eyes looked back at her, and she gave a nervous swallow in the same moment she realised the palms of her hands were damp. Calm down, girl. Calm down.

She had to carry this off. She continued to stare into the mirror as she gnawed at her bottom lip, and then hastily splashed cold water over her wrists before re-touching her make-up and spraying a few drops of perfume on to cool skin. She had her bedsit now, and in spite of the fact that it was only one large room tucked away in an old house in Chiswick it was costing a small fortune. She needed every penny of her six-week probationary salary, but Gillian had stipulated a hundred per cent increase once the position became permanent, and that would be good money—very good money. Of course she could get cheaper accommodation, but she had fallen in love with the lovingly restored Victorian house with its gracious sense of the past, and her bedsit—right at the top of the house and affording a panoramic view over roaming rooftops and a huge expanse of light-washed sky—was an oasis of peace amidst London’s bustle.

‘Cory?’ Gillian’s voice just outside told her it was time to go, and she took a hard, anxious pull of air, smoothing down the fitted jacket of the linen suit and tweaking the collar of her jade-green blouse into place before she left the small sanctuary.

The two women had just slipped on their coats when the door to Max’s office opened. He moved lazily towards them, his powerful body possessed of an animal grace that was entirely natural and all the more formidable because of it. There was no polite ‘All ready?’ or any other preliminary small talk; he merely gestured with one hand towards the outer door, his hard-boned face cool and closed, and as he did so Gillian’s telephone began to ring.

‘Leave it.’ It was an order and Gillian nodded, but then, after her answering machine had cut in and just as Max was closing the door behind him, they heard a man’s voice say after the beep, ‘Gill? Gill, if you’re there pick up the phone, love. It’s urgent.’

‘It’s Colin.’ Max had already swung the door wide again and as Gillian hurried to the phone with a muttered, ‘I’m sorry,’ he leant lazily against the outer wall in the corridor outside, his gaze switching to Cory with alarming suddenness and pinning her to the spot. She stared back at him, willing her nerves not to show.

‘How was the first morning?’ he asked in that husky dark voice that sent her nerve-endings into hyperdrive.

‘Good.’ She nodded in what she hoped was a brisk fashion, and prayed he would put her burning cheeks down to the central heating which was of the hothouse variety. This was stupid, this was so stupid, Cory told herself angrily as she frantically searched her blank mind for something to say. She was supposed to be working for the man from nine to five—or six or seven, whatever the day demanded—five days a week, but at this rate she wouldn’t survive the day, let alone the first week.

She had been so composed and cool and calm at that initial interview back in February. The pain and misery of Vivian’s engagement party two days before had been so vivid in her mind that a kind of numb fatalism had guided her through the ordeal of Gillian’s hundred and one questions and practical tests; she’d felt then that the worst that could possibly happen had happened, so what was the success or failure of a job interview compared to Vivian marrying someone else? In fact she’d still felt like that right up until… When? This morning at nine o’clock. When she’d looked into a pair of narrowed tawny eyes set in the coldest face she had ever seen. And also the most attractive, she added wryly.

‘Good?’ He drawled the word slowly with a hint of mockery. ‘Care to elaborate on that enigmatic statement?’

No, she wouldn’t, and she wasn’t mad about his supercilious attitude either. Funnily enough the thought brought two of Max’s aforementioned Bs—backbone and boldness—into play, and she heard herself saying, her voice firm now and aiming at polite reserve rather than the cutting coldness she would have loved to display, ‘It would be foolish of me to venture an opinion after just three hours, don’t you think? But certainly Gillian has been extremely helpful and kind.’ She raised her chin and straightened her shoulders.

‘It would be impossible for Gillian to be anything else.’ There was genuine warmth in his voice for the first time and it made the smoky effect lethal. ‘She’s a secretary in a million.’

‘That’s just what she said about—’ Cory stopped abruptly. She wasn’t at all sure Gillian would appreciate her repeating her earlier comment, besides which, this man’s ego was big enough as it was. But it was too late. He’d homed in like a nuclear missile.

‘About?’ he questioned softly, but she knew they were both aware of what she had been about to say. It was there in the eyes.

‘About you,’ Cory admitted grudgingly. ‘She said you were a boss in a million.’

‘And you doubt that very much.’ The hint of laughter was unmistakable. Cory was too surprised to do anything but stare at him, her green eyes with their mercurial violet tinge wide and her full-lipped mouth slightly agape as she searched her mind for a response.

Max Hunter seemed to be enjoying himself. She watched him settle more comfortably against the wall, and there was a definite measure of satisfaction in the deep voice when he said, ‘True or false?’ as black eyebrows rose mockingly.

He was as unlike her previous employer as it was possible to be! The thought flashed through Cory’s head and brought small, strutting Mr Stanley, with his formal, ritualistic working mode and almost phobic fear of any relaxing of office protocol or decorum, there in front of her for a moment. He would no more have a conversation like this with his secretary than fly to the moon! Mind you, she wasn’t Max Hunter’s secretary, not yet, and perhaps he never intended for her to be? Perhaps she didn’t want to be? And she agreed with Gillian’s statement—Max Hunter was certainly a boss in a million all right. It was just the way he’d earned the title she and his secretary differed on, Cory thought caustically.

It was the last thought that opened Cory’s mouth and enabled her to say, with suspect sweetness, ‘I’m sure Gillian is absolutely right, Mr Hunter, when she says you’re one on your own?’

‘Max,’ he corrected smoothly, ‘and I’ve been insulted less prettily in my time. Do you work as well as you fence, Cory?’

She wasn’t going to win a war of words with this man. For the second time in as many minutes Cory found herself with her mouth open and she shut it quickly with a little snap. ‘Better,’ she said brightly. This job was a non-starter. She knew it.

‘Then we’ll get on just fine.’ He levered himself straight.

It was as he turned to face the doorway through which Gillian was walking that Cory noticed the scar on the right side of his neck. It was long and jagged, starting above his ear in his hair and disappearing down into the collar of his shirt, and spoke of a savage accident. The scar itself was silver but due to his dark tan it stood out quite distinctly from the surrounding skin, and for a moment or two Cory couldn’t take her eyes off it. She had averted her gaze by the time he turned to her again, but it had really shocked her. What on earth had happened to him?

‘I’m sorry I’ve kept you both waiting.’ Gillian was flushed and flustered, and when her voice wobbled a little and she added, ‘It’s Colin—he’s not well,’ Max took the older woman’s arm as the three of them entered the waiting lift.

‘What is it?’ he asked with surprising gentleness. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Oh, nothing, not really.’ Gillian breathed in deeply. ‘A touch of food poisoning, they think. Colin says it’s not serious.’

‘But you’re missing him, and no doubt he’s missing you.’

‘Uh-huh.’ Gillian nodded and then managed a fairly normal smile as she included Cory in her rueful grimace. ‘Pathetic, isn’t it? But the last eight weeks are the first time we’ve been apart in our twenty years of married life and it feels so strange. Still, at least Colin’s found a gorgeous apartment out there and everything is going to be done when I arrive on the doorstep in six weeks’ time.’

Six weeks. Six weeks! And then—if she was still here, that was—there would be only Max Hunter and herself and no comforting, homely Gillian around. Cory missed her step as she followed the older woman into the lift and immediately a warm firm hand fastened on her elbow. ‘Careful.’ He was just behind her and his six feet four towered over her five feet five as she turned to murmur her thanks. ‘We don’t want you breaking your neck on the first day, do we?’ he added evenly. ‘And certainly not in this building. I can do without a lawsuit for industrial injury.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of suing you for something that was my own fault,’ Cory answered hotly as though the accusation were a reality.

‘No?’ It was blatantly cynical, his firm, cruel mouth twisting mockingly at the fierceness of her protest.

‘No.’ She stared up at him, her mouth very firm, and they were both unaware of the interested spectator watching the little drama in front of her. ‘That would be positively immoral.’

‘Immoral…’ He considered the word lazily.

Cory was instantly aware she had chosen an unfortunate turn of phrase but it was too late to retract it. She’d have to bluff.

‘And you are always…moral, Cory?’ he asked quietly, with hateful butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-my-mouth innocence.

‘Always.’ This wasn’t going to work. This job definitely wasn’t going to work. For some reason he didn’t like her; there was veiled antagonism in his every word, his every glance, and she wasn’t imagining it. He had been gentle, understanding even, with Gillian, but with her it was almost as though he was trying to catch her out all the time, Cory thought tightly. He was a cold, hard, macho brute of a man—everything she detested in a male, when she thought about it—and she hadn’t made the move to London to live in a perpetual state of tension and stress.

‘Then Gillian has chosen well.’ It wasn’t what Cory was expecting and she was eternally glad the lift chose that precise moment to open its silent doors and deliver them in Reception. ‘Now, a nice relaxing lunch, I think?’

His voice was even and distant suddenly, and, ridiculous though it was, Cory felt as though the man now escorting Gillian and herself through the ingratiating smiles and nods in Reception was an entirely different creature from the one she had seen so far. He was cool and remote and self-assured, every inch the powerful tycoon and entrepreneur, as he strode through the hushed and immaculate surroundings and out through the gleaming brass and glass doors which one of the reception staff had fallen over themselves to open.

A blue and silver Rolls-Royce was parked at the kerb outside the building with magnificent disregard for yellow lines, and as Max led the two women towards it Cory had the notion she was taking part in a flamboyant movie, and any moment a director would be leaping in front of them and shouting, ‘Cut! It’s a take.’

The chauffeur had opened the rear door of the limousine the moment he had caught sight of Max, and now, as Cory followed Gillian into the rich leather interior, she wished there were a little more room in her skirt. Discreet, calf-length and prim it was, cut for scrambling in and out of breathtaking vehicles like this one it wasn’t, and she was vitally conscious of Max Hunter just inches behind her and no doubt with his eyes on the material straining over her backside.

She was hot and pink by the time she was seated next to Gillian, but then, as Max joined them on her other side and his hard male thigh rested against hers, she knew what a pressure cooker felt like. He was her boss. He was just her boss. Say after me…

If her life had depended on it Cory couldn’t have told anyone how long it took to reach Montgomery’s, the route the Rolls took through the heavy lunchtime traffic or even what the three of them discussed en route. Every fibre of her being, every cell in her body was concentrated on not making the biggest fool of herself ever, but she must have sounded fairly coherent and behaved normally because Gillian’s nice round face was quite cheerful and relaxed when the limousine eventually glided to a halt outside the sort of establishment that just reeked of class and wealth.

Of course the glass of champagne might have helped. When Max had leant forward and opened the polished wood cocktail cabinet in front of their seat Cory had determinedly stopped her mouth from falling open—twice in one morning was quite enough—but her eyes had widened all the same. The glasses were tall and exotic and chilled, the champagne was pink and frothy and tasted like all the summers she had ever experienced rolled into one, and Max’s toast—‘A welcome to the newest member of Hunter Operations’—brought the colour that had just receded from her cheeks flooding back again.

‘I don’t remember you doing this for me when we first started working together, Max?’ Gillian had already said, with her first sip of champagne, that it would go straight to her head, and certainly as her employer helped both women out of the car Gillian was as flushed as Cory as she grinned at Max.

He smiled easily. ‘I wasn’t sure how to treat a secretary in those days, Gillian, if you remember. I’ve learned as I’ve gone along.’

Cory envied the other woman’s quiet familiarity with their boss. Of course Gillian was a good few years older than Max and very happily married to boot, and she’d known him for years, but Cory just knew she would never, never, be able to adopt the almost motherly approach that Gillian did so well and which, at heart, was the basis for all good boss/secretary relationships. He just scared her to death. He did what?

Immediately the thought formed she caught it in horror. She wasn’t frightened of Max Hunter—she’d never been overawed by any man, even her old headmaster who was a tyrant of the first order and had scared everyone rigid. She was not frightened of Max Hunter! That was the most ludicrous, stupid, crazy notion she’d ever had! It was the champagne. It had to be the champagne.

‘Cory? Is anything wrong?’

Gillian’s gentle voice brought her out of the whirling maelstrom of her thoughts, and to the realisation that she was standing in the middle of the crowded pavement with people weaving around her. Hardly the pose for a young, dynamic secretary!

‘Shall we?’ Gillian gestured towards the building in front of them and as Cory’s eyes focused on Max she saw he was holding open the door of the restaurant, an expression of great patience on his face, but it was the look in the beautiful and compelling amber eyes that bothered her. They were narrowed and intent and piercingly steady, and they brought to mind a wildlife programme she had seen just the other night, when a quite magnificent tawny-eyed lion had been watching his prey—a delicate and fine-boned wildebeest—with frightening and fierce single-mindedness.

And then he blinked and smiled, heavy lids and thick black lashes sweeping down, and when he looked at her again he was just an unusually arresting and powerful man. A man any woman would think worthy of a second glance, a man of intimidating intelligence and undeniable presence but, nevertheless, just a man.

The meal was simply wonderful, and seated as they were in a quiet and private alcove, where they could see and yet not be seen, Cory found herself relaxing enough to enjoy the good food. From the moment they had been seated Max had set out to be a charming and amusing dinner companion, keeping the two women entertained with a monologue of witty and slightly wicked stories, and by the time Cory had spooned the last delicious morsels of feather-light crêpe Suzette into her mouth she had been lulled into a comfortable state of false security.

So it made it all the more shocking when, Gillian having disappeared to the ladies’ cloakroom a moment or two earlier, Max turned to Cory and held her eyes with his own as he said calmly, ‘Well, Cory? Have you decided whether to turn tail and run or stay yet?’ He raised those cruel black eyebrows again.

‘What?’ It was too loud—she knew her voice had been too loud and that was quite the wrong tack to take with this man. She needed to be calm, unflustered and in control, she thought feverishly as she watched him settle back in his seat and continue to survey her through slits of brilliant light that brought the poor wildebeest to mind again. Although at least on the plains there was somewhere to run.

He was the sort of man who was intimidating even when he wasn’t intending to be, and she wasn’t sure if he was intending to be now or not. He was so big, that was part of the problem—so masculine and uncompromisingly virile. Everything he did, every little gesture or movement, was so controlled and disciplined and it was formidable. He had an aura of authority, but not in a comforting or reassuring way—at least she didn’t find it so, Cory told herself nervously. Hunter by name and Hunter by nature…

Oh, for goodness’ sake, girl, pull yourself together! The rebuke was loud and angry in her head. She’d be crediting him with supernatural powers next and wouldn’t he just love that?

The thought acted in much the same way as a douse of cold water on her fluttering panic, and Cory forced herself to take several silent breaths before she smiled and said, her voice as cool as she could make it, ‘I really don’t know what you are talking about, Max.’

There, she’d said his name without the slightest pause or hesitation, even giving it a slightly scornful intonation.

‘No?’ The gold was very clear around the bottomless black pupils. ‘You mean to say you weren’t considering whether you’d come back tomorrow or just call it quits?’ he asked silkily.

‘No, I wasn’t.’ And she hadn’t been, not really. Admittedly she had wondered whether he would pull the plug on her, but she hadn’t seriously considered leaving herself. Whatever else, she wasn’t a quitter, and she said so now. ‘I agreed to take the position for a trial period to see if things worked out and I would honour that whatever,’ she said firmly. ‘And it works both ways—you might decide I’m not suitable,’ she added reasonably.

‘I knew within the first five minutes whether you were suitable or not,’ he said softly. ‘In business you have to be able to determine the credibility of someone fast.’

‘Snap decisions?’ She raised disapproving eyebrows and hoped he hadn’t guessed she was acting a part—his previous admission had sent her stomach haywire and churned up that wonderful lunch.

‘No, measured appraisals due to years of hard experience and a natural distrust of my fellow man,’ he corrected her swiftly, his tone faintly mocking. ‘I never make mistakes, Cory. Not any more.’

‘Oh, you used to be just like the rest of us, then? Human?’ The second the words were out she was horrified. You didn’t speak to your employer like that, she told herself silently—not if you still wanted him to remain your employer, that was. Mr Stanley would have had a heart attack on the spot! But Max Hunter wasn’t Mr Stanley.

‘You see?’ There was a measure of amusement in the narrowed eyes and she knew her embarrassment was showing. ‘I’d rather have you in my corner than someone else’s. Besides which…’ He paused, swallowing the last of his coffee in one gulp before he continued, ‘As my secretary and personal assistant you’ll be working with me very closely and of necessity the days are often long ones—eleven, twelve hours. I couldn’t stand anyone who didn’t speak her mind and I don’t like boring women, Cory.

‘I can forgive anyone anything if they are honest and acting from the heart. I don’t like deception or hypocrisy and I don’t like prissy thinking along the lines of “the boss is always right.” I am—’ he eyes were gleaming with laughter now ‘—but if you thought so too, where would the spark be? And you don’t have to like me, so don’t worry your head on that score,’ he added abruptly. ‘Because you don’t, do you?’

It wasn’t a question, it was more of a statement, and one which Cory was utterly unable to answer.

He laughed out loud now at the look on her face and the sound was husky, rusty even, as though he didn’t do it too often.

‘Don’t get concerned,’ he said softly, his voice soothing. ‘Believe it or not I look on that as another of your admirable attributes. Part of Gillian’s amazing success all these years has been because she has her Colin whom she adores to distraction, and our working relationship has been just that…a working one.’

He was telling her he didn’t want her fancying him! Cory didn’t know whether to be relieved or furious, but she veered towards the latter. What an ego! What an outsize, monstrous ego!

‘Power and wealth can be a potent aphrodisiac to some women. Now, whilst that’s all to the good in certain situations—’ the deep voice held a note that suddenly made her shiver as her nerve-endings sensitised ‘—at work it’s just a damn nuisance and sometimes downright dangerous. You’ll be party to some very confidential papers as my secretary and the old adage of “Hell hath no fury” is still alive and well, believe me,’ he finished coolly.

‘Mr Hunter.’ She had probably been as mad as this previously in her life but she couldn’t remember it. ‘I would no more dream of acting in the way you’ve described than of…of flying to the moon,’ Cory snarled angrily. ‘Even if I thought you were the best thing since sliced bread.’

‘Which you don’t,’ he put in softly, his eyes gleaming.

‘No, I don’t!’ she affirmed with furious emphasis.

‘You see? The perfect solution for both of us. I get a secretary I can trust and who—from the references Mr Stanley among others supplied—is more than adequate not to mess anything up with misplaced emotion. You get a position which will only serve to further enhance your career, you get to travel a bit, see new places with the added advantage of it all being paid for, and a handsome salary to boot. Ideal, eh? And of course you’re out of the little home-town trap. Why exactly did you decide to leave Yorkshire anyway?’ he added with a suddenness that took Cory by surprise. ‘You were happy there for the last twenty-four years.’

She stared at him a moment, getting a bland, expressionless gaze in return, and then forced herself to speak quietly and calmly when she said, ‘It was time to spread my wings, that’s all. My qualifications are excellent—’ she raised her chin slightly at this point; it didn’t come naturally to blow her own trumpet ‘—and at twenty-four I felt the next stage of my career was overdue. I—’

‘I’m not asking for a résumé of what was written on your application form and CV.’ He was terse. ‘I mean the real reason. Was it a man?’ he asked with audacious coolness.

Cory was quite unaware of the shadow of pain that passed over her face in the second before the fury hit, but then her eyes were shooting bright green sparks and she straightened in her chair, her chin thrusting out and her hands clenched fists in her lap. ‘I think I ought to make one thing perfectly clear before we go on another minute,’ she said icily, her voice belying the fiery colour in her cheeks. ‘I do not discuss my personal life with anyone unless I want to. If you offer me this job permanently you will be entitled to all of my working days and the very best I can do, both for you and Hunter Operations, but you will not automatically have the right to take over my life. My private life is my own business and absolutely no concern of yours.’

So it had been a man. Max Hunter surveyed the taut, angry figure in front of him, his face betraying none of his thoughts. And she wasn’t over him yet, not by a long chalk. ‘You’re absolutely right of course.’ Gillian was making her way back to their table and now he stood, his voice merely pleasant and not at all put out as he added, ‘I think we’re all ready to leave? And Cory?’

She was in the act of rising, Max having pulled out her chair for her, and now, as she turned to face him, he was so close for a moment that she caught the scent of delicious aftershave on clean male skin and took an involuntary step backwards, bumping against the table and rattling the coffee cups. ‘Yes?’ she asked defensively.

‘The offer is permanent; it was from five past nine this morning.’