Читать книгу Australian Boss: Diamond Ring: Australian Boss: Diamond Ring - Nikki Logan - Страница 8

‘A DOZEN shrubs for you, Russ.’ A worker placed the shrubs on the ground and moved away to collect another load.

It was Monday afternoon, towards the end of Fiona’s first day at the new job. Spending it out of doors helping to complete an actual work project as well as gather photographic resources for her painting and for the company to use to showcase its services had been a thrill. She smiled to herself as words continued to flow around her.

‘Hey, Phil. Can I use that mattock for the next ten minutes?’

‘Great job with the bougainvillea, Chelsea.’ This was Brent’s voice as he turned his head to check on one of the more junior members of the ground team. ‘Keep up the good work.’

The sun was shining and the ten-acre work site on the edge of a newish Sydney suburb was abuzz with activity. Brent was motivated and positive and determined, and the ground workers responded to his authority and encouragement by giving their absolute best. He was at home in this, and Fiona…found that knowledge of him perhaps a little too appealing.

‘We’re going to finish this job on time.’ The site boss, a man in his mid-thirties with a shock of carroty hair squashed under a baseball cap, paused beside Fiona to murmur the words. ‘I knew we would. The company hasn’t missed a deadline yet, even when things have gone pear-shaped, as they did with this project when some of the goods we ordered didn’t arrive three days ago.

‘That never would have happened with Linc’s nursery supplies. I’m guessing in future Brent will refuse to buy from anywhere else, even if it means asking his brother to import or source what it is that he needs.’

Brent had pulled in about a dozen extra workers from other job sites to work on this project. Fiona had done her share of carrying and carting and planting and fetching throughout the day, too. She was ‘grubby’, as Brent had predicted would happen. Mostly around the knees and seat of her jeans, and it was all good honest dirt. She’d learned so much about his process by getting her hands into it, and she’d had a ball getting dirty at the same time! ‘There doesn’t seem to be a lot left to do now.’

‘I’d say another half hour of work for everyone, if that.’ The boss moved on, and Fiona planted the last shrub in her allotment and dusted herself off.

She watched as Brent lifted a plant from a wheelbarrow and placed it in a prepared hole a few metres away with an efficient movement. In the early days of his business he had probably spent a lot of his time on this kind of thing.

He worked with a focused, economical efficiency. Her camera lens had tracked that focus again and again throughout the day. She itched to photograph him again now.

For their office files, Fiona justified. She glanced guiltily at the other nearby workers, but none of them seemed to be taking any particular notice of who or what she was studying.

Right now she needed to study landscape photo angles. She gathered her equipment. There should be a nice sunset soon, if she could find the right place on the property to photograph it. She fished her iPod out of her jeans pocket, placed the earphones in her ears and let the music and the lighting and the mood absorb her.

She truly was all about the work.

She was!

Brent found Fiona in a far corner of the property site, camera carefully placed on a tripod. She was waiting for something, he wasn’t sure what. And, while she waited, her body moved unconsciously to music only she could hear.

In her jeans and fitted red shirt, with dirt smears on her legs and other places, and her hair ruffled and half-falling from her ponytail, she looked…lived-in, girl-next-door.

He almost managed to convince himself she looked quite ordinary, in fact, until she made a small sound in the back of her throat, leaned in and took several photos before she straightened with a satisfied sigh, pulled the earphones from her ears and began to dismantle her equipment.

Because the truth was Fiona dressed in this way was anything but ordinary, and with the flush of achievement on her face she was anything but comfortable or girl-next-door.

Brent drew a deep breath and stepped forward. ‘Finished? Did you get the shots you wanted?’

‘Oh!’ Her hand rose to splay over her chest. ‘I didn’t realise you were there. I was photographing the sunset. I’ve taken around two hundred photos today. Not all of them will be used, of course, but I think I’ve gained a good overview of what a team of people can achieve on a site in a single session. But please tell me I wasn’t muttering or singing while I worked.’

‘You were soundless, I promise. I didn’t want to disturb your concentration so I waited, that was all.’ Their fingers brushed as he reached to take the tripod from her.

Just that, and Brent’s focus slipped. He froze on that slip. Came to a complete stop with his fingers closed over Fiona’s. Only a beat of time passed before he moved his hand, but that one beat was a beat out of his control and that concerned him.

That Fiona now studied him with her head tipped to the side and curiosity stamped on her face bothered him more. There were certain things about him that he kept to himself. He’d learned from a master instructor that doing that was necessary.

Most of all it bothered him that this one woman set off in him things to do with his condition that very few other people could make happen, no matter how much they impacted on him. His need to protect his privacy about that rose even in the face of his awareness of her. It wasn’t a comfortable combination.

‘I think I got a couple of great shots just now.’ She glanced up into the branches of the lemon-scented gum tree that towered over them. ‘Ones with the light spearing down creating a dappled effect. I hope to base my painting on that concept.’

‘That’s good.’ His thumb rubbed over and over against a ridged edge on the tripod. Brent forced the movement to a stop. ‘I’m glad you got the material you wanted.’

‘It only took a little while, a bit of waiting for that perfect moment.’ Fiona seemed about to ask him something.

Brent braced, but her glance shifted around the vacant lot, past him, swung left and right and finally moved to the outside perimeter where all the work vehicles had been parked.

‘I guess maybe I took longer than I noticed. The work’s finished.’ She seemed chagrined. ‘They’ve all left. I was so focused on what I was doing that I didn’t notice. How long did I keep you waiting?’

‘Not long, and I didn’t mind waiting.’ He growled it in a tone that quite likely made her believe the opposite. The truth was, he’d got value out of watching her work. ‘If you’re done here, we can leave now.’

‘Yes. I’m done. Thanks.’ She hustled towards his utility truck.

Brent joined her, opened the passenger door for her and climbed in behind the wheel. ‘The office will be closed by the time we get back, but we’ll get anything from inside that you need. Then, if you’re not too tired, I’d like you to join Linc and Alex and me for dinner so they can hear your impressions of your first day on the job.’

They’d planned for this—to get Fiona’s impressions without giving her too long to think first and maybe fall back on more PC answers rather than simply giving her true impressions.

And it would be fine. Taking her to his brothers would be exactly what he needed to bring this—whatever it was that he experienced when he was near her—back into perspective.

It had probably just been too long since he’d spent time with a woman. There were always offers. They never meant anything more than what they were, and maybe he was starting to feel a little jaded about that.

Brent pushed the thought aside, because there was nothing else for him. And he wasn’t jaded, anyway. ‘Linc and Alex and I all hold shares in each others’ companies. So you’ll be reporting to all of us.’

‘I’d be happy to discuss the day with all of you. Actually, I’d like a chance to bat my reactions around with you, particularly.’ Fiona glanced down at her jeans. ‘I’m grubby, though.’

Brent drove into the traffic. ‘That won’t matter. We’ll be eating at home, and Linc and Alex know we’ll be coming straight from the site.’

‘Then I’m happy to come to dinner and “report in”.’ Fiona smiled. ‘Thanks.’

And Fiona was. Happy. Cheerful. Chatting about the other workers and Brent’s work projects generally as they made their way back to their suburb, where she collected her car from all day parking and followed him to his warehouse home.

‘It’s this way.’ Brent waited while Fiona exited her car in the large ground floor parking area and led her into the foyer of the converted warehouse building he and his brothers shared. It felt good to bring her into his home, and that was one more reaction he didn’t want to have to deal with.

Fiona stopped in the centre of the polished floor and her glance darted this way and that. ‘Oh. How gorgeous. And it’s so big and very private. I never imagined from the outside…’

‘That was what we hoped when we bought the place and converted it. An illusion of it being nothing special, but inside there’s space and…we know we’re not on display.’ He cleared his throat. ‘We like it, anyway.’

Brent laid his hand on the curved handcrafted staircase that led to the upper level, and watched her look her fill in this place where he felt…comfortable, where he owned his space.

One end of the foyer held a leather sofa and chairs. The art on the walls was bold and bright—blues and whites, yellows and greens and pinks on canvases large enough not to get lost on the huge walls.

Fiona’s gaze settled on those artworks for a long moment. Finally she said, ‘The colours and designs of those are fabulous. I don’t think I know the artist…’

‘Alex’ll be pleased you like his work.’ Brent was pleased. And proud. And way too conscious of her reactions altogether. ‘Let’s go find my brothers.’ He led the way up the staircase. ‘We all have separate homes within the warehouse. For tonight, we’re meeting in the courtyard area upstairs.’

‘I think it’s wonderful that you’re all so close.’ Her tone held a wistful edge she didn’t quite manage to conceal.

Yet she had a family, had referred to parents and sisters on the drive to the site this morning, and obviously, if they’d raised someone like Fiona, her parents must be special people.

Before Brent could consider that further, his guest made a beeline for the youngest of his brothers. ‘Alex. Your paintings are beautiful—’

‘Thanks.’ Alex turned from the barbecue with a modest smile and a wry twist of his mouth. ‘Brent brought your portfolio home over the weekend to show us. Your work is far better.’

‘Different,’ Fiona corrected. ‘Not necessarily better.’

Linc placed a bowl of salad on the long table. ‘Hiring a graphic designer was a big step for our brother. He’s accustomed to working his designs through on his own, but he felt the company was ready for it, that it would be a good thing.’

‘I hope it will prove to be.’ Fiona’s gaze encompassed all of them.

Brent glanced her way. ‘I’ve seen enough of Fiona’s work, and now seen her in action, to have no doubt I’ve made the right choice.’

At least she had managed that while she’d fought her reactions to this talented and complex man. And surely, in a day or two, when she’d settled into the job and become used to her employer, she would move past this consciousness of him.

‘I appreciate your faith in me, Brent.’ In truth it touched a deep place in Fiona’s heart that had been chilled the day she’d told her family she’d decided to follow her dream career, rather than the logical, safe one they’d steered her into when she’d first left high school at eighteen.

They’d been equally unenthusiastic when she’d phoned to say she’d landed this job and moved out here. She might as well have said she’d got a good bargain on bread this week at the supermarket for all the level of excitement or support she’d received in response.

So Brent’s attitude was a boost, even if her reaction to it didn’t exactly help her to feel blasé towards him.

‘It’s easy to have that faith. You’re talented, enthusiastic.’ Brent’s gaze lingered on her for a long moment before he gave a deliberately relaxed grin that soon became a natural one. ‘The company can only benefit from your input.’

‘Thank you.’ For the generosity of his words and the sincerity in his eyes as he delivered them.

He was a complex man—there was so much beneath the surface. She’d sensed that from the first moment of meeting him. Now, she simply wanted to know him all the more.

And, because Fiona felt a little emotional about that, and about his praise, she quickly cleared her throat and smiled. ‘It means a lot to work for someone who has such faith in me and who I can have total faith in as well.’

Fiona drew a deep breath and glanced at the feast spread on the table. ‘The food smells wonderful. I confess I’m a little hungry!’

They all took their seats at a picnic style table with bench seating. Linc and Alex sat on one side. Fiona ended up seated beside her boss on the other.

Focus on the meal, Fiona. On being an appropriate guest, or talking about work.

There were vegetable kebabs made of cherry tomatoes, courgette, onion slices and button mushrooms marinated in a wonderful herbed Italian dressing and cooked to perfection. Steak and sausages—Fiona left those to the men. Whole potatoes cooked in foil and served with sour cream and fresh chopped chives. And delightful seasoned ground beef patties.

‘Which of you is the chef?’ The outdoor area was set up with potted small trees and plants everywhere. It was enclosed, no view, and the overall feeling was one of security and…intimacy.

In a purely familial context!

‘I did the easy stuff. Rosa did the kebabs.’ Alex’s glance dipped to his plate. ‘Rosa’s our cleaner, mostly, but she does other things for us as well.’ He hesitated and his brows drew together as he considered the matter. ‘Sort of like a mother would or something.’

A mother these men didn’t have? Alex’s words made it sound as though they hadn’t ever known that.

Fiona’s thoughts returned to how dissimilar the men were. She shifted her gaze to Brent’s face but his eyes were shielded with those long silky lashes again.

Perhaps they’d all had different mothers? Or fathers? Or some of both? Perhaps family life had been a little complicated for them? Well, she knew all about that from her own family. Though she was the only one who would say that situation was complex. Her parents and sisters would say it would all be just fine if Fiona would simply make an effort to fit in better. ‘My compliments to Rosa, then.’

‘So tell us your impressions from today.’ Linc carved another piece of meat from his steak as he waited for her response.

‘I have some photos now that I believe will be good for general marketing purposes.’ She explained the thoughts behind those concepts, and was pleased when Brent started to nod and approval showed clearly on his chiselled face.

‘I also have photos for the idea I want to use for a painting for the clients.’ It was a great idea to add a painting into each landscape project, and Fiona was keen to get started on this one. ‘If the clients hang the painting in their home and talk to their visitors about the landscaping work Brent’s done for them, that can only be good for business. Working with my hands, helping to do actual planting, really helped me to get a feel for what Brent’s work is all about, too. I…valued that.’

She felt as though she’d been given an insight into him. Fiona glanced his way and for a brief moment their gazes met and she wondered if he sensed that connection in the same way she did.

Seconds later he blinked and looked away and the moment was gone.

‘I’d like you to create a better business logo for us, too.’ Was Brent’s voice a little deeper than usual as he said this? ‘I think we’re due for a change there. I’ve never been entirely happy with the logo we have. I want something timeless, with a style that won’t date, but what we have now feels a bit too pedestrian.’

‘I’m sure I can come up with some viable possibilities. You might want something with just a few bold lines. It’s surprising how effective that can be.’

Brent’s gaze narrowed as he considered the idea. ‘Yes. I can see that.’ Again, that smile kicked up one side of his mouth. ‘I like the way you think.’

‘Thank you.’

They ate and they talked and Fiona lost her over-consciousness eventually and relaxed and, before she knew it, they were batting ideas back and forth. So fast, in fact, that she was almost breathless with it.

The scent of barbecued meat and vinaigrette dressing and city in the evening filled the air around them and she leaned close to her employer and he leaned in close to her, two heads bent together in an almost conspiratorial huddle, until she realised just how close they were and her consciousness of him sharpened again.

As they fell silent and his gaze tracked over her and came back to rest on her eyes, a shiver similar to that very first one she’d felt tickled over her senses. There was warmth in his expression, and frank male interest…

Before he shut the latter down.

It stung. More than Fiona wanted to admit because she’d had this experience enough times in her life. She’d had it the one time she’d trusted a man enough to get truly close to him. That had been years ago now, but it had left its mark, had made her wary, and that wariness had proved accurate over the years.

And now her employer was doing the same thing.

But he was only her employer and that was what she needed to remember.

‘I’m looking forward to tapping into your vision.’ That was what they needed to talk about, to focus on. She swallowed. ‘For your work. Tapping into it and learning how to present it in its best light for each project. The emotion you convey…’

His expression became a mask and the fingers of his right hand drummed out a staccato rhythm on the table.

Moments later that rhythm stopped.

All of Brent stopped, frozen in time for a long moment as his gaze searched hers.

Finally he said, ‘All I do is make the best I can out of each project I take on. That’s just…work. Any emotion you put into it will be your own.’

His belief in this was in his eyes, in the closed conviction on his face. Belief and self-protectiveness.

Why wouldn’t he acknowledge that he poured himself into his work? It was so obvious to her.

She’d examined a lot of his projects over the past two years. Landscape design had fascinated her from the start of her course, and his work had held the most appeal to her purely because of what she sensed in it.

Strength and conviction, imagination and reaching out and…protecting himself. Oh, she had responded most of all to that. It was one of the things that drew her to him, even when she knew she shouldn’t and mustn’t allow herself to be drawn. She’d only get hurt and, anyway, he was the boss, out of her reach and her league!

‘I want to draw out what you’ve seen, your vision for each project.’ Fiona spoke carefully, took the diplomatic route in her reply. ‘But I’m certainly happy to add my own layering to that.’

‘That’s the best way to look at it.’ Brent seemed satisfied with this and the conversation moved on then, expanded to include all three brothers again.

After a time, Alex got to his feet. ‘I have phone calls to make to one of the company’s overseas contacts before it gets too much later. If you’ll excuse me?’

Linc stood beside Alex and a frown creased his brows. ‘I might head out to Cecilia’s. I wasn’t really satisfied with the discussion we had earlier today on the phone.’

Fiona watched the brothers disappear and turned to Brent with the quirk of one eyebrow. She asked lightly, ‘Woman trouble for your brother?’

Brent stood and began to gather dishes and utensils together. ‘Cecilia manages Linc’s largest plant nursery. Who knows what the issue is this time? They’re two strong personalities. They clash sometimes.’

‘Ah.’ Fiona got to her feet and helped gather the remainder of the dishes. ‘Where are we headed with these?’

‘My place.’ Brent led the way out of the courtyard area and along a hallway until they came to a recessed door. ‘It can all go in the dishwasher.’

‘And then I’d better leave.’ Fiona held the plates carefully and waited as he opened the door to his home within the warehouse building. ‘I enjoyed the meal and our talk. I hope your brothers were happy with my first day reactions.’

She’d all but forgotten the presence of the others at times as she’d focused her attention on her boss. Fiona knew she had to do better than that!

‘I think we were all more than satisfied. Kitchen’s this way.’ Brent strode at a brisk pace past a large living area and into a slate and white kitchen.

Was it the rich aroma of percolated coffee that drew him along so fast? She didn’t get the chance to more than half-glance around her.

Fiona stopped at the edge of the kitchen and then she did let her gaze take in the sight of three different coffee machines on the counter, and a myriad of other gadgets beside them.

Her lips twitched. ‘I take it you really like coffee. And gadgetry.’

‘Different blends for different times of the day. The coffee is on a timer, so I can make sure it’s ready for me when I want it. My evening dose is decaf.’ A slight smile creased his lips. Then his expression sobered as he examined the rest of the gadgets. ‘The way they all work interests me. I probably have bought more things than I really need.’

As though he’d said too much, he drew two coffee mugs from an overhead cupboard and raised them in question.

‘Yes, please.’ If it was decaf, it wouldn’t hurt to have it. She was intrigued by this small revelation into his personality, too. She would have liked to pursue the topic, maybe tease him a little about having an obsession about the way things worked.

A small memory flitted through her head as she thought this, of someone with similarities to her employer, but she lost it before it could fully form. ‘The coffee smells far too good to be caffeine-free, you know.’

‘It’s an imported blend. A bit self-indulgent of me all up, I suppose. Overall, my curiosity hasn’t always been welcomed, but I tend to indulge it nowadays, in my own setting, at least.’ He cut off the words and then seemed to relax out of whatever place they had taken him. He poured the rich blend and passed her one of the cups.

‘You’re hardly self-indulgent, and I think curiosity is a good thing. How else do we learn?’ The words emerged without her conscious volition. But he’d earned the money he had. If he wanted to import coffee and invest in gadgets he didn’t necessarily use, why shouldn’t he? Those things seemed very small indulgences and if he enjoyed exploring them at the same time…‘I mean great coffee is worth investing in.’

She put the mug to her lips and sipped, and the rich thick liquid slid down her throat so smoothly that she had to close her eyes and let a small sigh of satisfaction escape. ‘Oh, that is good. I think for the pleasure of that taste alone, all your curiosity has been well worth it in this case.’

‘You have a unique way of looking at things. Calling it that…’ Brent fell silent.

‘What else would it be?’ She opened her eyes and caught his gaze on her. Unshielded in that first instance, and somehow almost vulnerable.

And…edged with a consciousness of her that brushed across her senses like a touch.

This time he didn’t shut it down. Oh, he looked away, but the awareness was still etched on his face when he did that.

It echoed inside her, too. Fiona dropped her gaze to her cup again while her heart inexplicably pounded. It was a foolish reaction. One that she needed to quash because, even if he did find her attractive right now, that could change. In any case, he was her boss and it would be really far less than sensible for her to allow feelings towards him or to start believing he had any towards her.

Maybe he simply found her opinions interesting and she was imagining anything else.

They sipped their coffee standing right there, leaning against the kitchen counter. When the silence stretched, Fiona turned her gaze to Brent’s living room, to squashy chocolate leather sofas and chairs and long rows of magazines lined up like soldiers across a set of three coffee tables.

There were neat stacks of library books set exactly so, and other books and pieces of paper arranged carefully all through the area and beside armchairs positioned around the room.

‘I see you like to bring your work home, and you’re very orderly.’ Was this why he had rushed her past the area? Because there was something quite different about the way he’d laid out all that work?

His office space was similarly regimented, and it was different.

He rubbed his hand over the back of his head. ‘I sometimes have to work on projects until they’re finished, whether that means bringing things home or not. Once I get started, I get very focused and I can’t stop. I’ve always been that way. Some people…find that objectionable but it’s how I am. Core me. It’s not something that’s going to change.’

‘Nor should it.’ If he changed, he might lose some of the intensity that made his work what it was. Why on earth would he even consider such a possibility—? ‘I imagine there’ll be times when I’ll do the same. Get deeply involved in the work, I mean.’

He shifted on his feet, passed his empty coffee cup from hand to hand.

‘It’s time I went.’ One part of her didn’t want to leave, wanted to stay in his company longer.

To talk about work issues, she told herself. Instead, she put her empty cup down on the counter top and made her way towards the front door.

‘I enjoyed our talk this evening.’ Brent paced beside her. His words brought them back to business, and of course that was a good thing.

As she approached the door she noticed the photomontage on the wall. It was positioned so it would be the last thing he looked at as he left his home each day.

Photos of him and his brothers.

Fiona looked, and looked again. And the story embedded in those images hit her so deeply her breath stalled in her throat and for a long moment she couldn’t speak. She simply stood there, unable to shift her gaze.

When she finally found her voice it wasn’t to state the obvious. Not, You were all institutionalised. Or, There are no parents, are there? At least not for a very long time. Or, You’re not biologically related.

But, oh, they had created themselves into a family, first in that cold building in the background of several of the pictures, and later as they’d found their freedom and relocated here.

They were three men who’d become men before their time, and had stood up for each other. It was all there, captured in the stark stares and guarded expressions of young boys and the determination of young men, and the laughter and wry smiles and inner shields of the men they were now.

How had they all ended up alone? Parentless? In Brent’s case, extremely private, and she imagined the others had their issues with privacy, too. Just look at where they all lived.

His brothers must have changed their names through legal channels, or perhaps they’d all chosen the last name MacKay and adopted it at some point? ‘I thought from the beginning that you and your brothers were close. I hadn’t realised all the reasons why.’

Fiona didn’t have that closeness in her own family. It was a knowledge she lived with and tried not to think about. Right now it felt very blatant to her. Blatant and sad, and yet Brent and his brothers must have been through so much more. Indeed, the two things were incomparable.

‘We’re there for each other. The few people who’ve looked at those photos didn’t even realise—’ Brent opened the door.

‘That you’re a chosen family, not a “by birth” one?’ They were proof the former could be as strong as any example of the latter.

‘Yes. “Chosen” is the right word for it. For us, that’s better than where…we came from.’ He stepped out into the corridor with her. ‘I’ll see you back to your car.’

End of discussion, and fair enough. Though she might want to know more, he was a private man and this was obviously very private business to him.

They walked in silence. Moments later she stood beside her small car.

‘We have a meeting with a client at her home tomorrow.’ Brent rubbed his jaw with his hand. ‘It’s the troublesome client I told you about on Friday.’

Fiona mentally reviewed her wardrobe. ‘I’ll be ready for it.’

‘Perhaps between us we can get her to stop blocking the plans at every turn.’ Brent waited while she seated herself, and then he pushed her door closed.

She started the engine and rolled down the window.

He leaned in. ‘Drive safely. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Goodnight, Brent.’ He’d given her some things to think about. The family he had built and her questions about where he might have come from. His emotional guardedness. That regimented work lined up in his living room and in his office. The privacy he sought in his home and his work.

‘Goodnight,’ he murmured.

With a final wave and an odd reluctance to leave him, and with myriad questions flitting through her mind and no answers anywhere in sight, Fiona drove away.