Читать книгу Playboy Boss, Pregnancy of Passion - Kate Hardy - Страница 9

CHAPTER THREE

SARA had managed to compose herself by the time Luke returned—literally five minutes before she was about to leave. ‘Any luck?’ she asked.

‘No. Clearly it’s not my week for finding new staff. So if I can ask you to stay just a little longer?’

‘Yes,’ she said, before her common sense had a chance to stop her.

‘Good.’ He sat on the edge of his desk. ‘Sara, I bulldozed you a bit about Scarborough.’

‘A bit?’ She arched an eyebrow.

‘OK, a lot,’ he admitted. ‘And I know it isn’t fair, giving you such short notice to rearrange your weekend. So don’t feel you have to do it.’

‘It’s all right. I wasn’t doing anything in particular,’ she said. ‘I had vague plans to go to the cinema with friends, but nothing definite.’ Nothing that couldn’t be changed. ‘Besides, it’d be nice to get out of London and go to the seaside.’

‘We’re going to Scarborough to work,’ he reminded her.

She smiled. ‘Maximum eight hours a day. Which means we’ll have time to smell the roses—well, the sea air, anyway.’

He didn’t take the bait. ‘As long as you’re sure it’s not a problem.’

‘It’s not. But I do insist on having a paddle in the sea. And one of those whippy ice creams with a chocolate flake stuck in it.’

He shrugged. ‘Do what you like in your lunch break.’

‘So you’re too chicken to paddle?’ she teased.

‘Too busy,’ he retorted.

‘A five-minute paddle isn’t going to take much out of your day. And the break will do you good.’

‘Refilling the well?’ There was a slight edge to his voice.

‘Good. The man’s learning,’ she said, resisting the urge to walk over to him and ruffle his hair. Touching would be a bad idea. She might not be able to stop at ruffling his hair. And she needed to be professional with him. She wasn’t looking for a relationship right now; even if she had been, Luke wasn’t the man for her. He kept too many barriers round himself. She wanted someone less complicated. ‘Right. I emailed your messages to you as they came in, there’s a report on your desk next to a pile of letters that need signing—and I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘OK. And, Sara?’

She paused by the door.

‘Thanks. I do appreciate you. Even if I don’t say it.’

‘You know, that’s why you’re on the temps’ blacklist,’ she said with a grin. ‘You’re too grumpy, too uptight, and you grunt instead of talking.’

‘There isn’t a temps’ blacklist—and I don’t grunt.’

‘No?’ she teased.

‘No. Go home,’ he said, flapping a hand at her and going back to the proper side of his desk.

No doubt he was going to work late again tonight, Sara thought. From what she’d seen of Luke, she was beginning to wonder where on earth the press got those photographs of him at parties and why his name was linked with a string of women. As far as she could see, he didn’t have a social life. He just worked.

Maybe on the way to Scarborough she could start to draw him out a bit. Make him talk to her. Find out what made him tick.

* * *

On the Tuesday, to Sara’s surprise, Luke was actually in the office at lunchtime. ‘I’m going to call down to the sandwich bar and order something. Do you want anything?’

This was where she knew she ought to smile politely and say thanks for the offer, but she’d get something while she went out for her usual lunchtime walk.

Though she couldn’t resist the mad impulse to try to reform him. To teach Luke Holloway to smell the roses. To make the smile on his mouth reach his eyes. ‘Thanks, that’d be lovely. But I’ve got a better idea. Instead of having sandwiches delivered here, why don’t we pick up some lunch on the way?’

‘The way where?’ he asked.

‘Call it an experiment in boosting productivity. If you go for a walk at lunchtime, you get more done in the afternoon. It’s something to do with getting extra oxygen to your brain.’

‘This,’ he said, ‘sounds to me like one of your flaky ideas.’

‘I’m not flaky. I’m enlightened,’ she said loftily. ‘And you’re a workaholic.’

He held both hands up in the classic surrender pose. ‘Guilty as charged, m’lud.’ Except his grin was completely unrepentant.

‘Seriously, Luke, taking a complete break and doing a bit of exercise is good for you.’

‘Exercise.’

How did he do that? How did he manage to make her think of sex, whatever he said? She wasn’t sure if it was the glint in his eyes, or the fact that when he spoke she couldn’t take her eyes off his mouth. ‘Walking,’ she said, then immediately took a swig of water from the glass on her desk, hoping he’d think her voice was husky simply because she needed a drink. And she really, really hoped her thoughts hadn’t shown on her face.

He glanced out of the window. ‘You have a point. It’s a nice day. A walk would be good.’

She checked her watch. ‘Let’s leave in half an hour.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘What happened to working smarter?’

‘Just trust me,’ she said. If they went now, the place she had in mind would be crammed with office workers. If they took a late lunch, it would be just how she liked it. How she wanted to share it with him.

‘You’re the boss. We’ll order the sandwiches anyway, to make sure they don’t run out. I recommend the crayfish wrap. Unless you’re allergic?’

‘No, that’ll be fine. I’d love to try the crayfish.’

Half an hour later, after they’d picked up their lunch, she ushered him towards the tube station.

‘I thought you said we were going for a walk?’

‘We are. Not here.’

‘We’re going to the Tower of London?’ he asked when they left the train at Tower Gateway and headed towards Tower Hill.

‘Not quite. Trust me,’ she said, leading him down a narrow path and surreptitiously glancing at his face to see his reaction when they arrived at their destination.

‘A church?’ Covered in ivy.

‘Not quite.’ And then she led him inside, gratified by the utter surprise on his face, followed quickly by an expression of disbelief and…was that delight?

‘Wow. I had no idea this place was here.’

‘St Dunstan in the East. It was bombed in the Blitz, but instead of knocking it down the authorities turned it into a garden.’

Instead of pews there were park benches, instead of a font there was a fountain, and instead of glass fronds climbing shrubs filled the arched window frames.

‘Refilling the well,’ she said softly, sitting on one of the empty benches and patting the seat next to her. ‘If I’m working in the city, this is where I come for lunch. Outside the lunch rush hour, that is.’

‘It’s beautiful,’ he said. ‘And so quiet. You’d never believe you were in the middle of the city.’

‘Exactly. It reminds me a bit of home,’ she said.

‘You miss the country?’

She nodded. ‘But I love the buzz of the city, too. So I suppose I have the best of both worlds—I live here in London, but I can go home to Kent whenever I want.’

‘The garden of England.’

‘Absolutely. We’re spoiled with castles and stately homes and gardens on our doorstep.’

‘I’ve always lived in London,’ he said reflectively.

‘So you’ve never spent any time in the country?’

‘The occasional weekend. Nothing much.’

She smiled at him. ‘You’ll have to come back with me some time. I’ll show you some of my favourite places.’

‘Are you asking me on a date, Sara?’

For a second, she couldn’t breathe. The air felt as if it were crackling with electricity—even though the sky was a clear blue and there wasn’t so much as a single wispy white cloud, let alone purple-grey storm clouds.

A date.

She’d meant it as a throwaway but genuine offer. To share some of her favourite places and spread a little sunshine into his life.

But it could be construed a different way. That she’d just asked him out.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Would he accept?

Another missed beat.

Did she want him to accept?

The world suddenly felt precarious, and she backtracked. Fast. ‘Not a date date. An offer to a friend—because I like you, and I think we could be friends.’

‘What, even though you boss me about?’

She was relieved that he’d slipped back into teasing banter. That, she could cope with. ‘Hey, I’ll have to be bossy if I’m navigating.’

‘What about sat nav?’ he countered.

‘You can’t beat local knowledge.’

‘True. Point to you.’ He regarded her seriously. ‘The way you see life…everyone’s a potential friend until proven otherwise, aren’t they?’

She thought about it. ‘I suppose so,’ she admitted. It was the way she’d been brought up—around people who loved her and always showed their affection.

‘Don’t you get disappointed?’ he asked.

‘Not often.’ She had with Hugh, but he was the exception that proved the rule. ‘Are you saying that you see everyone as a potential enemy, then?’

‘Hardly. I’m not the paranoid type.’

‘But you don’t let people close.’

He shrugged. ‘It makes life much less complicated.’

It also made life lonely, she thought. Not that there was any point in saying so. She had a feeling that Luke would claim he didn’t need anyone and that his life was just fine as it was. ‘You see the glass as half empty, then?’

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. ‘It’s obvious you see it as half full. I’d say it’s simply half a glass. Telling it as it is, no flowery description.’

His words were light, but she could hear the warning signal: she might want to be friends, but he’d keep her at a distance. She kept the conversation completely impersonal for the rest of their lunch break, telling him what she knew about the history of the church, and he seemed to relax again with her. And, although Luke spent most of the afternoon either on the phone or in meetings, he was back at his desk just before she left the office for the evening.

‘Sara?’

‘Uh-huh?’ She glanced up from her computer and was rewarded with a smile that did actually reach his eyes. A smile that did seriously odd things to her insides.

‘I just wanted to say thanks. For sharing that garden with me today.’

‘Pleasure.’ And it warmed her that he’d enjoyed it. ‘See you tomorrow.’

‘Yeah. Have a nice evening.’

‘You, too.’ On the surface, it was polite office chit-chat. Though Luke wasn’t the sort to do chit-chat. He was always charming, but she knew he hated wasting a single second. So the fact he’d bothered to thank her and wish her a nice evening… Maybe he was learning to trust her. Opening up to her just that little bit.

Though Sara was completely thrown the next morning, when she walked in to find a beautiful bouquet of roses on her desk, all pink and cream. ‘What’s this?’

‘You made me stop and smell the roses yesterday. I thought I’d do the same for you today,’ he said. His smile was just the wrong side of wicked. ‘A thanks for helping me out.’

She shrugged. ‘Strictly speaking, you’re my client. You’re paying me to help you out.’

‘If you had the builders in, you’d make them tea and bring them cake and make a fuss of them so they did a good job for you, yes?’

‘Ye-es.’ Where was he going with this?

‘Same thing,’ he said. ‘Except you’re not a builder. You’re a girl.’

‘You noticed?’ she deadpanned.

‘I noticed.’

There was a flare of heat in his expression that triggered a corresponding flare in her body. To the point where she really needed a cold shower. She took refuge in being sassy. ‘Basically, this is a business expense.’

‘No. It’s from me to you, to say I appreciate you.’

‘And so you should.’ No way was she going to let him know that his comment, even more than the flowers, had just turned her into mush. She buried her nose among the blooms. Their scent was sweet, yet heady. ‘Thank you. They’re beautiful. How did you know I’d like pink roses?’

He coughed and gestured to her shoes.

She smiled. ‘Busted. OK, so it’s my favourite colour.’ She breathed in their scent again. ‘Thank you, Luke. These really are lovely.’

And when she made them both a coffee and put a mug on his desk, she gave in to the impulse and kissed his cheek.

‘What was that for?’ he asked.

‘Just to say I appreciate the roses.’

‘Pleasure.’ But he was staring at her mouth.

Just as she was staring at his.

Wondering.

She was used to giving hugs and kissing cheeks and ruffling hair. It was how she’d grown up, in the middle of a close and noisy and affectionate family. But kissing Luke’s cheek just now, being close enough to smell his clean scent and feel the softness of his skin against her lips…that hadn’t been her best idea. Because it had made her all too aware of him: an awareness that could be dangerous.

An awareness that grew and grew over the morning. Luke had a lunchtime meeting—one that had been in his diary since before she’d started working with him, so she knew it wasn’t an excuse to avoid her. She had lunch on her own, sitting on a bench overlooking the river. Giving her time to think.

Things were definitely starting to change between her and Luke; although Sara still didn’t really know what made him tick, she liked the glimpses he’d allowed her to see so far. Liked them enough to want to know more. To get to know him properly. And…

She took a sip of her ice-cold water. If she let her thoughts go much further in that direction, she’d need to up-end the bottle over her head to cool her down.

* * *

‘I’m pulling rank,’ Luke said the next day. ‘We’re having a working lunch.’

She coughed. ‘Lunch is meant to be a break.’

‘Refilling the well. Yeah, yeah, you told me.’ He flapped a dismissive hand. ‘But I need to brief you a little bit about this weekend.’

‘The operative word being “little”. I thought you wanted me to do it completely as a mystery shopping kind of thing?’

‘Even mystery shoppers need a brief. Look, it’s time for lunch. If you don’t have anything better planned, there’s a very good pizza place round the corner.’

He’d dressed it up as a business thing—but he knew full well that wasn’t what he was offering. This was the same as her offer to him the previous day of a weekend in the country: a date that wasn’t a date.

He’d enjoyed spending time with her in that tiny, perfect garden. And even though the alarm bells were ringing in his head, warning him that this was a dangerous game, he wanted more. Something about this woman made him want to break the rules. Get to know her better.

‘Sounds good to me. As long as we split the bill.’

‘You,’ he said, ‘are the boss.’

She laughed. ‘Yeah, right.’

He loved the way she laughed. It made him feel as if the sun had just come out after a dull, grey morning.

And why a beautiful, clever, warm woman with a sense of fun was still single was beyond him. He wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that Sara Fleet had been snapped up the second she’d turned sixteen.

Or maybe that was it. Maybe she was a widow. True, she was very young to be a widow—but life wasn’t always fair, and if she’d loved her husband that much… Then again, she was using her maiden name.

And why was he speculating about something that was none of his business? He shook himself. ‘Let’s go so we can beat the rush.’

They arrived in time to grab a seat under one of the umbrellas on the terrace overlooking the river.

‘Do you recommend anything?’ Sara asked.

‘It’s all good. The pizzas are wood-fired, so they’re fabulous. Wine?’

‘Thanks, but I’ll stick to sparkling water. If I drink at lunchtime, it makes me want to curl up and go to sleep.’

Luke suppressed the thought that he’d like to watch her curled up and sleeping, satiated after making love. He was meant to be keeping this strictly business. But there was something about her that drew him.

They settled on pizza, and sharing focaccia bread and a simple salad. But when the waiter arrived, he was clearly struggling to write down their order.

‘Luke, would you mind if I ordered?’ Sara cut in gently.

He spread his hands. ‘Be my guest.’

She said a few words in what Luke guessed was Italian, and the waiter beamed at her before bursting into an absolute torrent of language. Sara was smiling back, speaking just as rapidly. Luke didn’t have a clue what they were talking about, but he liked the lilting sound of the words from her mouth.

The waiter was clearly also charmed, because he disappeared into the kitchen and returned almost immediately with a rose in a vase.

A pink rose.

She thanked him, and he gave her a deep bow before disappearing to see to another customer.

Luke grinned. ‘Trust you to make sure we take time to smell the roses.’

She flushed. ‘Sorry. I wasn’t showing off, just then—Gianfranco was struggling and it’s hard enough dealing with customers without the language barrier. He’s only been in England for a week; he’s come over to work in his uncle’s business in his gap year.’

Luke was impressed that she’d found out so much information in such a short space of time. Then again, there was something about Sara that made you want to trust her.

Which made her dangerous.

He pushed the thought away. ‘It was kind of you to help out. So you speak Italian fluently.’ Then he remembered. ‘And I’ve stolen your week in Italy.’

She shrugged. ‘I hadn’t booked my ticket, so it wasn’t a problem. I can go to Sorrento some other time.’

‘Well, I feel guilty.’

‘Good.’ She grinned at him. ‘You can buy me pudding to make up for it.’

That zest for life, that love of food…and it was so refreshing, after the time he’d spent with women who nibbled on a lettuce leaf and made a fuss about counting carbs. ‘Deal. So do you speak any other languages?’

‘French. A bit of German. And I can scrape by in Greek, provided I have a dictionary.’

‘Impressive.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘I never really learned languages at school. I haven’t needed to, for work.’

‘You can speak the universal language, though. Money.’

‘Well enough.’ He shrugged. ‘Have you been to Scarborough before?’

‘No—we always tended to go south, down to the coast at Sussex. You?’

‘A long time ago,’ he said. It was one of the few memories from his childhood that was happy.

‘You’re right. The pizza’s excellent,’ she said after her first mouthful. ‘And so’s the bread—I love it that they do it with rosemary here. It reminds me of Florence.’

‘So you like ruins?’ He remembered her degree was in history, so it was pretty obvious she’d be interested in that kind of thing.

‘It’s the way the past still echoes down through to the present, and the beauty never fades.’

When she talked about something she enjoyed, she was really animated, he noticed. And her enthusiasm was infectious. ‘You could’ve been a teacher. You would’ve really inspired your classes,’ he said.

She wrinkled her nose. ‘I did think about it. But there’s so much red tape in education—it would just suck the joy out of it, for me. Besides, I like what I do now.’

And if she’d been a teacher, she wouldn’t have walked into his life.

Although Luke didn’t join her in having a pudding, he indulged in a rich, dark coffee, and when they returned to the office he was shocked to discover they’d been out for an hour and a half. Considering that lunch for him was usually just long enough to eat a sandwich… He made a mental note to put in the extra time that evening, and forced himself to concentrate on figures and phone calls for the rest of the afternoon.

He’d just replaced the receiver when she put a mug of coffee on his desk. ‘Problem?’

‘Nothing major. The guy I was playing in a league match tonight—he needs to reschedule because something important cropped up at work. Which means I have a court booked but no partner.’ He looked speculatively at her. ‘I don’t suppose you…?’

‘Absolutely not.’

‘I thought you said exercise was good for you?’

She shook her head, laughing. ‘I’m hopeless at racquet sports. Justin tried to teach me, and I was so embarrassingly bad that he had to admit defeat.’

‘I could teach you.’

Her eyes met his and awareness zinged through him. Both knew he hadn’t been talking about just squash.

‘Thanks for the offer, but it’s not really me.’ This time, she was the one to give the speculative look. ‘Though if you’re at a loose end…’

‘What?’

‘You didn’t look that convinced at lunchtime when I told you why I loved ruins. Come and see something with me. And you don’t have an excuse—you just told me your squash match was cancelled.’

‘Has anyone told you that you’re a bulldozer in disguise?’

She laughed. ‘Yup. So are you game?’

He should say no. Use the time to work. But his mouth didn’t seem to be working in synch with his brain. ‘Sure.’

‘Something’turned out to be the British Museum. ‘I love the courtyard here,’ she said. ‘It’s the light and shade—just lovely.’

A big, wide open space with a glass ceiling, triangles radiating out from a central column. He could see exactly what she meant.

He’d never really spent any time in museums. But when she took him to see the Egyptian mummies and the Roman mosaics, he could see it through her eyes and was enchanted.

‘Haven’t you ever done this before?’ she asked, clearly surprised.

‘I guess when you live in a place, you take it for granted and don’t get round to doing the touristy things.’

‘True, and doing them on your own’s not such fun because you don’t get to share them and talk about them with someone.’ She reached out and took his hand for a moment, squeezing it. ‘Maybe we can come back together some time.’

‘That’d be nice.’

What really shocked him was that he meant it. He wanted to spend time with her. He liked the sound of her voice and could’ve listened to her all day when she told him about the things that clearly grabbed her attention. And he really liked the touch of her skin against his.

Ah, hell. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He didn’t do relationships. He always had brief and mutually satisfying affairs with women who knew the score. Women who moved in the same glittering social circles. Women who didn’t have wedding bells in their eyes or want him to meet their families.

Sara Fleet was a mass of contradictions. Efficient and businesslike, and yet warm and touchy-feely at the same time. He still hadn’t quite recovered from that kiss on the cheek earlier that afternoon. God only knew how he’d stopped himself turning his face to hers and capturing her mouth.

And right now her hand was curled round his.

It was oh, so tempting. All he had to do was raise her hand to his lips. Kiss the backs of her fingers. Turn her wrist over and press his mouth to the pulse point, see if it jumped as hard and fast as his own heart was beating right then.

It didn’t matter that they were standing in the middle of a public place. The rest of the world just faded away. He could pull her into his arms. Cup her face. Lower his mouth to hers. Taste the sweetness on offer…

‘Luke?’

Uh. He really was losing the plot. He never, but never, allowed himself to be distracted like this. ‘Yeah, fine,’ he said, not really sure what he was agreeing to, but the warmth of her smile promised him it was something good. ‘Listen, I’d better let you go. You’ll need to pack for tomorrow.’

‘And you, no doubt, are planning to squeeze in some work.’

‘A teensy bit.’ Which might just stop him thinking about kissing her.

‘You,’ she said, ‘are impossible.’

‘So I’ve been told.’ He disentangled his fingers from hers and was dismayed to find that he actually missed their warmth and pressure.

Not good at all.

He was twenty-eight, not thirteen. Time he remembered that and acted like it. ‘Come on. I’ll put you in a taxi.’

‘I’m perfectly capable of getting the Tube.’

‘I know. But humour me.’

‘Depends.’

‘On what?’

‘I’ll take a taxi,’ she said, ‘if you agree to paddle in the sea with me on Saturday.’

‘And you say I’m impossible?’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Come on.’ He hailed a taxi, paid the driver and waved her goodbye.

And the worst thing was, he couldn’t wait to see her tomorrow.

‘You,’ he told himself loudly, ‘need your head examined. She’s a complication you don’t need.’

Though he had a nasty feeling that he was protesting just a little too much.