His Very Personal Assistant
Carole Mortimer
When Kit was hired as personal assistant to Marcus Maitland, she was ready to resist him — if her sensible suits, glasses and severe hairstyle didn't do it, then her cool, untouchable manner would. However, during a working weekend away, Marcus started getting very personal with his assistant.Without her glasses and prim clothes, Kit felt naked — which suited Marcus just fine!
Carole Mortimer
His Very Personal Assistant
For Peter
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
COMING NEXT MONTH
CHAPTER ONE
‘I WOULD like to strangle that woman with one of her diamond necklaces!’
Kit looked up as her outer office door opened, inwardly wincing as it was thrown back with such force that it slammed against the wall. Inwardly, because outwardly she always remained the calm and efficient personal assistant that she was…
She raised enquiring brows as her boss, Marcus Maitland, strode purposefully across the room to his own office, receiving a narrow-eyed glare for her efforts, his handsome face harsh and grimly set.
‘I don’t want to be disturbed,’ he bit out gratingly as he wrenched open his own office door. ‘By anyone,’ he added forcefully, slamming that door behind him with equal force.
Kit breathed out slowly, turning to Lewis Grant, the lawyer for Maitland Enterprises, as he entered the room. ‘I take it the meeting with Angus Gerrard didn’t go as planned?’ she prompted softly.
‘Not exactly.’ Lewis grimaced as he sat on the edge of her desk to look across at the blankness of the door so recently closed in both their faces. He was tall and blond and in his early thirties.
Marcus and Lewis had set out earlier for their meeting with Angus Gerrard believing the takeover of the other man’s newspaper empire was only a formality; a mere signing of the papers was to be performed. But, from Marcus’s comment when he’d come in, and his obvious fury, Kit had a feeling that it had been far from a formality!
‘Nothing that you did or didn’t do, I hope?’ Because she also knew, from six months of working as Marcus Maitland’s personal assistant, that he worked so hard himself he was not a man to accept incompetence or compromise in others.
Not that she could blame him; as a multimillionaire, involved in numerous diversified companies and holdings, he had little time to spare for other people’s mistakes.
‘No—thank goodness!’ Lewis gave a rueful grin.
‘The lady he wants to strangle with her diamond necklace?’ Kit prompted knowingly.
Lewis nodded. ‘Catherine Grainger.’
Exactly whom Kit had thought Marcus was referring to. But had hoped that he wasn’t.
She hadn’t known of it when she’d started working for Marcus Maitland, but there seemed to be some sort of long-running competitiveness between Maitland Enterprises and Grainger International. Catherine Grainger was the major shareholder and head of the latter. In the six months that Kit had worked for Marcus Maitland this was the third time the two of them seemed to have locked horns over a business acquisition.
Kit grimaced. ‘What happened this time?’
Lewis shrugged. ‘She outbid and outmanoeuvred us. Angus Gerrard signed a contract with her yesterday,’ he enlarged as Kit continued to look at him.
‘Oops!’ she breathed slowly.
‘Oops, indeed,’ Lewis acknowledged as he continued to stare at the door Marcus had closed so decisively behind him minutes ago. ‘You know, Marcus mentioned this is the third time this has happened in the last few months,’ he said slowly.
Kit looked up at him enquiringly as his words echoed her own recent thoughts.
‘It’s probably nothing,’ Lewis dismissed briskly as he stood up. ‘There’s obviously no point in my hanging around here—’ he smiled wryly ‘—so I may as well get back to my own office—if only to shred these defunct contracts!’ He picked up his briefcase from beside Kit’s desk before leaving for his own office further down the carpeted corridor.
Kit was still frowning as she watched him go. Surely it was all a coincidence that Marcus Maitland had lost yet another deal because Catherine Grainger had outmanoeuvred him…? To attribute the blame to anything else was surely to bring into question the integrity of everyone who worked closely with Marcus Maitland. Including herself.
‘Daydreaming, Miss McGuire?’ a female voice queried nastily. ‘Does that mean that Marcus isn’t back yet?’ Andrea Revel added as she strolled into Kit’s office completely unannounced, bringing the aroma of her heavy perfume with her.
Kit kept her expression deliberately bland, knowing that it wouldn’t be her secretary, Laura’s, fault that this woman had managed to get in here without interference. The latest in what appeared to have been a long line of women in Marcus Maitland’s life, Andrea Revel seemed to think she was a law unto herself when it came to Marcus.
The other woman was astoundingly beautiful, with her pale blonde hair, slanted green eyes and a figure that had all the men in her immediate vicinity turning to admire her, especially as she usually wore some stunning creation or another. As a fashion buyer for one of the most prestigious stores in the city, Andrea had no problem finding or buying such clothing.
But Andrea also had to be one of the most unpleasant women Kit had ever met, and hard as nails with it. At least, away from Marcus Maitland she was. When in his presence, Andrea somehow contrived to look small, vulnerable, and completely feminine.
However, Kit refused to rise to the bait about sitting around daydreaming while her boss was out of the office. ‘Actually, he’s back—’
‘Oh, good.’ Andrea smiled as she turned towards Marcus’s office, showing even white teeth behind the glossy red lipstick she wore, which matched her short, fitted dress.
‘But he doesn’t want to be disturbed,’ Kit added firmly as she stood up.
Andrea gave her a dismissive glance. ‘He’ll want to see me,’ she said confidently, reaching for the door handle. ‘Go away,’ she bit out impatiently as Kit tried to move smoothly in front of her. ‘You take your duties as Marcus’s PA too seriously, as far as I’m concerned,’ she added scathingly. ‘In fact, I’ve told Marcus as much on several occasions.’
Kit drew herself up to her full height of five feet ten inches and looked at Andrea down the length of her nose as she breathed deeply in an effort to stop a cutting reply from leaving her lips. Andrea might be gone from Marcus’s life in a matter of months—in fact, to Kit’s disapproval, the secretaries in the company were taking bets as to how long this particular relationship was going to last!—but in the meantime she had to attempt to be polite to her. Even if sometimes she did inwardly feel like wiping that superior smile off the other woman’s face!
‘It doesn’t seem to have affected my current employment,’ Kit finally returned in a pleasant voice—not quite succeeding in hiding her resentment, after all.
Green eyes narrowed venomously. ‘Why, you—’
‘I’ll just ask Mr Maitland if he is free to see you now,’ Kit continued lightly, opening the door to Marcus’s office and closing it firmly behind her. After all, this was nothing personal, just part of her job.
But that certainly hadn’t been her most successful attempt at handling Andrea Revel, she inwardly berated herself as Marcus raised his head to look scowlingly across at her for her intrusion.
At the age of thirty-nine, Marcus Maitland had to be one of the most handsome men Kit had ever seen, with that midnight-dark hair and deep blue eyes. His nose was a straight slash, his lips sculptured, his chin square and determined. But she made sure always to regard him with cool impassivity.
Because she had been warned by Angie Dwyer, this man’s previous PA, when she had come for her interview for the job seven months ago, that the worst possible thing she could do was to fall for Marcus—that he never fell in love with any of the women he was involved with, his relationships with them only ever lasting a couple of months.
Considering the circumstances that had forced Kit to leave her last job—her boss seemed to have considered it normal policy to be involved with his assistant—she’d had no intention of falling in love with Marcus. Until she had actually met the man himself. Then she’d had trouble believing that any woman within a twenty-mile radius could actually stop herself from being attracted to him!
The term ‘tall, dark and handsome’ definitely applied to Marcus Maitland, but there was so much else that was attractive about him too. For one thing—when he wasn’t furiously angry, as he was this morning, he was capable of charming even the hardest heart, and his wealth and success had given him a self-confidence that made him stand out in any crowd.
In a word, Marcus Maitland was gorgeous!
But Kit took great care never to let him see what she really thought of him.
Besides, having taken account of Angie Dwyer’s warning, Kit played down her own looks when at work, wearing her copper-coloured hair in a French pleat, keeping her make-up minimal, discarding her contact lenses for thick-rimmed glasses during the day in an effort to lessen the effect of the deep grey of her eyes and surrounding dark lashes. The jackets of the dark business suits she wore were shapeless, the skirts always discreetly knee-length and her shoes low-heeled.
There was no way, she had decided, after looking at her reflection in the mirror that first morning she had come to work here, that any man seeing her like this would consider it part of her job to keep his bed warm if they should happen to be away on business together!
Kit had spent too long running round desks, and hotel bedrooms, trying to avoid her previous boss’s less-than-welcome advances, to want a repeat of it in her new job.
Although once she had actually met Marcus Maitland she hadn’t been quite so sure about that…!
Still, she had deliberately chosen her role as demure, plain, featureless, figureless Kit McGuire, and so far she had stuck to it.
But a few more conversations like the one just now with Andrea Revel, and she might just decide to throw caution to the wind and—
No, she wouldn’t, she gently rebuked herself; she enjoyed her work here, the people she worked with, the man she worked for, and most important of all—she needed the job! Besides, how would it look on her c.v. if, when she applied for another position, she had to own up to being dismissed for insubordination to her boss’s girlfriend?
But it would be nice, just for once, if Marcus could see what she looked like when away from the office, with her hair loose, no glasses to hide the luminous depths of her eyes, a pair of denims that fitted snugly to—
‘Well?’ Marcus snapped harshly, tapping his fingers impatiently on his desk top as he continued to wait for an explanation for her intrusion after he had explicitly told her he didn’t want to be disturbed.
At the same time completely bursting Kit’s bubble of illusion where, as in Hollywood movies, Marcus saw her change from a moth into a butterfly and instantly fell in love with the way she really looked. A fairy tale!
She straightened. ‘Miss Revel would like to see you,’ she told him briskly.
‘When?’
‘Now. She’s waiting outside in my office,’ she explained as he continued to scowl.
His brow cleared. ‘Then why didn’t you tell me that when you first came in?’ He stood up to move impatiently around her and open the inter-office door himself. ‘Come in, Andrea,’ he invited. ‘I was going to call you in a few minutes anyway; I have something I need to discuss with you.’
Kit stiffened as the other woman gave her a triumphant look in passing, her hands closing at her sides, her jaw clenching. Andrea deliberately went to link her arm with Marcus’s, before standing on tiptoe to kiss him lingeringly on the mouth.
Kit felt her stomach turn as Marcus bent his head with the intention of returning the kiss, quickly turning on her heel and leaving the room, closing the door behind her to lean weakly back against it.
So much for Angie Dwyer’s warning!
Kit had known by the end of the first week of working with Marcus that she was deeply attracted to him. Not the cleverest thing she had ever done in her life, but probably not the worst either. After all, Marcus had no idea how she felt, so at least her pride was still intact. It was only her heart that went AWOL every time she looked at him!
Only…!
She gave a self-deriding shake of her head as she moved back to sit behind her desk. It was probably as well that she could laugh at her own stupidity, because over the last six months Andrea Revel was the third woman Kit had seen Marcus get involved with—and they had all, without exception, been aged in their mid-thirties, petite, blonde, and curvaceously feminine—not twenty-six, tall and slim, with red hair.
In other words, even without the severe hairstyle, no make-up, and the shapeless business suits she wore, she just wasn’t Marcus Maitland’s type. It was—
‘Give me a call when you get back,’ Andrea Revel snapped as she suddenly stormed out of the inner office. ‘I may decide to see you again—but then, I may have something else more important to do!’ she ended before slamming the door behind her. Her face was an ugly, angry mask as she leant over Kit’s desk to thrust it inches away from Kit’s. ‘You think you’re so clever, don’t you?’ she hissed furiously as Kit could only blink her surprise at the attack. ‘But we’ll see who has the last laugh,’ she scorned as she straightened and, with one last flounce of her rich blonde hair, swayed provocatively from the room.
Now what on earth had all that been about? Kit wondered dazedly as she watched her leave, slightly shaken by the vehemence behind the woman.
The door to Marcus’s office opened again, gently this time. He stood framed in the doorway. ‘Has she gone?’ he enquired.
‘Are you referring to Miss Revel?’ Kit prompted innocently.
His gaze narrowed as he looked at her assessingly, a smile tugging at the corners of that sensuously curved mouth. ‘Yes, I’m referring to Miss Revel,’ he confirmed dryly, his earlier fury seeming to have abated as his normal good humour asserted itself.
Kit gave a slight inclination of her head. ‘She appears to have gone, yes,’ she confirmed evenly, still feeling totally stunned by Andrea’s verbal attack.
Marcus’s eyes gleamed deeply blue as he looked at her consideringly. ‘You know, Miss McGuire, sometimes I’m not sure you’re altogether quite what you seem…’
She remained outwardly composed, but inwardly her stomach was clenched, her thoughts were racing. What if he knew…what if he had guessed at her connection to…? But there was absolutely no reason why he should have done, she instantly consoled herself.
‘Miss Revel seemed—upset, when she left just now?’ she said briskly, deliberately changing the subject.
Marcus smiled more openly now, leaning against the doorframe to fold his arms across his chest. ‘Furious, you mean?’ he drawled.
‘Well…yes,’ Kit confirmed coolly.
He gave an acknowledging inclination of his head, his hair gleaming blue-black in the overhead light. ‘Your fault, I’m afraid,’ he derided.
Her eyes widened. ‘Mine? But—I was only doing my job just now,’ she defended. ‘Besides, she was rude to me first,’ she added quietly.
Marcus raised dark brows. ‘She was?’
‘Yes, she—’ She broke off, her frown deepening as she realised from his curious expression that he had no idea what she was talking about. ‘Exactly why is Miss Revel furious with me?’ she asked slowly.
He shrugged broad shoulders beneath the white silk shirt and dark tailored jacket he wore. ‘She’s taken exception—and I very much doubt we will see each other again—to the fact that you’re the one coming away with me this weekend rather than her.’
Kit stared at him blankly.
When had he—
When had they—
When had she—
What on earth was he talking about?
CHAPTER TWO
‘WELL, Marcus’s last PA did warn you that you might have to go away on business with him occasionally,’ Penny, Kit’s flatmate, teased her later that evening as the two of them prepared a meal together.
Yes, Angie Dwyer had told Kit that travelling with Marcus Maitland on business was part of her job description; it was just that it hadn’t been an issue over the last six months because, until this weekend, Marcus had preferred to take Lewis with him when he went on a trip.
Not that going away on business with Marcus Maitland was actually a problem. It was just the way he had told her and then chuckled at her stunned reaction that had thrown her slightly.
In fact, a lot!
‘Don’t look so worried, Miss McGuire,’ Marcus had grinned as she’d stared across the office at him after his announcement that he and Andrea Revel had parted company, and that he was taking Kit away for the weekend with him. ‘I’m not suggesting that I’m about to make indecent advances upon your person,’ he’d told her mockingly. ‘I just happen to need your capabilities more this weekend than I do Andrea’s rather more obvious charms!’
Kit hadn’t been too sure she found that an altogether flattering summing-up of the situation, but as she had made a point of deliberately playing down her own looks there wasn’t too much she could say in her own defence.
What would Marcus say if he could see her now? she wondered. Her hair was loose like silken flame past her shoulders, her skimpy tee shirt and fitted denims clung to her slender curves and there were no heavy glasses, either, to hide the large deep grey eyes that were surrounded by thick dark lashes. She looked a good ten years younger than the primly efficient Miss McGuire!
But knowing Marcus’s preference for tiny blondes, he probably still wouldn’t be impressed, she allowed ruefully.
‘So where exactly are the two of you going this weekend?’ Penny enquired with deliberate innocence as she sliced up tomatoes to go in a salad.
Kit paused in opening a bottle of wine to wince at her friend’s teasing. ‘We aren’t going anywhere,’ she corrected irritably. ‘Marcus has accepted an invitation from Desmond Hayes—’
‘The airline tycoon, Desmond Hayes?’ Penny cut in speculatively, blue eyes glowing interestedly.
‘Is there another one?’ Kit came back evenly—briefly enjoying her moment of glory as she could see that her friend and flatmate was impressed by the name of their host for the weekend.
‘None that matter,’ Penny acknowledged. ‘Wow. So you’re going to be spending the weekend with Desmond Hayes,’ she admired enviously.
Kit pursed her lips. ‘I am no more spending the weekend with Desmond Hayes than I am with Marcus Maitland; this is simply a working trip,’ she stated firmly.
‘Yes, but you’re still going to be there, alone, with two of the most gorgeous men—’
‘There’s apparently going to be a few other people staying too over the weekend,’ Kit quickly interrupted.
‘Stop bursting my bubble!’ Penny exclaimed disgruntledly, taking a sip from her glass of wine before looking sharply at Kit. ‘Don’t, for goodness’ sake, tell me that you’re going there as Miss McGuire, the PA from No-Nonsenseville? You are, aren’t you?’ she accused incredulously as she saw Kit’s raised brows. ‘Oh, Kit, you can’t—’
‘Of course I can,’ Kit said a little crossly. ‘This is a working trip, Penny, in case you’ve forgotten—’
‘I haven’t forgotten anything,’ her friend assured her seriously. ‘And, after the shenanigans with Mike Reynolds while you worked for him, I can’t exactly blame you for being more cautious where Marcus Maitland is concerned. But you’ve been his assistant for six months, Kit; surely you know what sort of man he is by now?’
Oh, yes, she knew exactly what sort of man Marcus Maitland was: clever and shrewd where business was concerned, a fair but demanding boss. But, as Angie Dwyer had warned her, he changed his women almost as often as he changed his shirt.
‘You’re going to meet Desmond Hayes this weekend,’ Penny said impatiently. ‘Desmond Hayes, Kit; one of the wealthiest men in the country!’
Kit gave a faint smile. ‘He may be, but the last I heard he was on his third marriage!’
‘No, that’s been over for some months,’ Penny dismissed.
Kit gave a firm shake of her head. ‘Then he’s in the middle of a messy divorce,’ she persisted. ‘In either case, I’m not interested. Neither,’ she continued firmly as Penny would have spoken, ‘do I intend changing a single thing about my appearance for what is, after all, a work commitment.’ If she kept repeating that phrase enough, she might even start to believe it herself!
Because a part of her was secretly excited at the thought of spending this time with Marcus away from the office—safely behind the façade of the PA from No-Nonsenseville, of course!
Penny gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re insane!’
Kit gave a smile. ‘I’ll try to bear that in mind.’
‘Insane!’ Penny repeated disgustedly before picking up the salad bowl and sweeping over to the kitchen table, leaving Kit to follow slowly behind her with the plates of baked salmon.
Maybe, feeling as she did about Marcus, she was mad to keep up this charade of efficient primness, but having started it she now had no idea how to finish it…
‘I beg your pardon?’ Kit looked at Marcus incredulously when he called for her the next afternoon, having allowed her to leave the office earlier so that she might be ready for the two of them to make the journey to Desmond Hayes’s home.
He gave a sigh. ‘I said, could you change into something a little less—formal?’ he repeated tersely, eyeing her cream linen suit and flat shoes with obvious distaste. ‘Desmond is expecting my partner for the weekend to be the current woman in my life, not my PA,’ he explained with the deliberate patience of an adult talking to a recalcitrant child.
‘But—but—’
‘Now you sound like a broken record,’ Marcus drawled derisively, moving past her into the flat’s hallway.
Penny was, thankfully, still at work; otherwise there was no knowing what she might have made of what Marcus was asking.
Kit wasn’t too sure of that herself! Exactly what did he mean, she was supposed to be the current woman in his life and not his PA? Surely he wasn’t suggesting—?
‘Calm down, Miss McGuire,’ Marcus ordered as he stood in the hallway looking down at her—a novelty in itself: at five feet ten inches tall, Kit usually found she was taller than most men. ‘I only said Desmond Hayes is expecting you to be the woman I’m involved with—not that I am expecting it too!’
She could feel the warmth of colour enter her cheeks at his taunting tone and mocking expression. But how else could she react after what he had just said?
Marcus gave another sigh. ‘It’s quite simple, Miss McGuire, I look on this weekend as purely business. Desmond may see it a little differently, hence—’
‘Hence you want me to appear to be your girlfriend,’ Kit finished dazedly.
‘There you are.’ Marcus smiled teasingly. ‘I knew you would get it in the end!’
She hadn’t got anything!
This was the very first time Marcus had mentioned anything about this particular aspect of the weekend. Deliberately so? she wondered as she looked at him suspiciously.
His smile turned to a scowl. ‘As I told you yesterday, I’m not about to make indecent advances on your person!’ he told her disgustedly.
But Kit hadn’t needed him to repeat it, knew that he didn’t find her in the least attractive; she just couldn’t make too much sense of what he was saying. It appeared that Marcus had originally intended going with Andrea to Desmond Hayes’s for the weekend—the woman’s vehemence yesterday at being told she wasn’t going after all was proof of that!—so why was he now taking Kit, but still leaving his host with the impression it was his girlfriend who was accompanying him?
‘It’s simple enough, Miss McGuire—’
‘You keep saying that,’ she cut in tensely.
‘But you don’t find it so,’ Marcus replied through gritted teeth. ‘I swear, I want your experience as my PA this weekend, not as a woman.’
‘That part you’ve made abundantly clear!’ she snapped back, slightly disconcerted as Marcus gave her an assessing look for her vehemence. ‘And quite rightly so,’ she added hastily. ‘But what is it you want me—as your PA—to do?’ she persisted, desperately trying to claw back some of the credibility she was sure she had lost just now when she had sounded almost disappointed that Marcus wanted her services professionally but not personally.
Idiot, she chided herself. As if Marcus could ever have any personal interest in her.
‘Observe and listen, mainly,’ he answered in a casual voice. ‘There are rumours that Desmond Hayes is in trouble—financially, for a change, as opposed to the mess he’s made of his personal life. Three wives!’ he added with a disgusted shake of his head.
‘I suppose you think he shouldn’t have married those women at all but just—er—what I meant—’ Kit broke off abruptly, wincing awkwardly as she realised what she had been about to say, the colour once again hot in her cheeks.
‘But just bedded them—like me,’ Marcus finished for her. ‘Was that what you were about to say?’
It was. Though it had dawned on her just how unwise she was being before she had even finished saying it. Although that didn’t stop Marcus from being completely aware of what she had been about to say, anyway!
‘You know, Miss McGuire,’ he murmured, the humour once more lighting the deep blue of his eyes, ‘perhaps this weekend will serve another purpose, after all. You’ve been working for me for six months now, and it’s time I got to know you a little better,’ he enlightened her as she looked at him warily.
Having Marcus get to know her a little or, indeed, a lot better, was not something she particularly wanted!
She deliberately avoided his gaze now. ‘What do the rumours have to say about Desmond Hayes’s financial problems?’ she prompted, determined to take the conversation onto a more businesslike footing.
‘So far, only that he’s in trouble. I want to see if we can’t find out a little more about that over this weekend.’
‘And you don’t think Miss Revel would have been able to help you with that better than I?’ Kit replied, sure that the kittenish Andrea would be much more successful at persuading Desmond Hayes, a man with an obvious weakness for beautiful women, into talking about himself and his problems.
Poor Penny, too; she would be most disappointed to hear that Desmond Hayes might no longer be one of the richest men in England!
Marcus’s mouth thinned. ‘My relationship with Andrea is over,’ he bit out decisively. ‘Besides, I’ve always made it a rule to keep my personal and my private life completely separate.’
‘Strange, I’d heard differently—’ Kit gave an uncomfortable wince as she realised what she had just said.
‘From whom, may I ask?’ he demanded.
‘Someone mentioned it. I forget who,’ Kit said firmly as he gave her a disbelieving look.
His smile was humourless. ‘Angie always did have a big mouth,’ he ruminated. ‘It’s one of the reasons she didn’t work out too well as my previous PA. Whereas you…’
Kit arched dark brows. ‘Me?’
Marcus gave her an appreciative smile. ‘You’re so discreet that even your own personal life is a closed book! This is a nice apartment, by the way.’ He looked around them admiringly. ‘Very minimalistic,’ he approved. The bare wooden floors were adorned with brightly coloured scatter rugs rather than a carpet, and there was just a cream sofa, chair and bookcase in the sitting-room, which he could see from the hallway. ‘Very nice,’ he repeated slowly. ‘Perhaps I’m paying you too much.’ He eyed her with challenging amusement.
Kit had been reeling from his comment about her personal life being a closed book, but this comment about her apartment, coming so close on its heels, made her frown darkly. ‘I happen to share this apartment,’ she told him sharply. ‘And you certainly do not pay me too much!’
Marcus laughed, his teeth very white and even against his tanned skin, his eyes gleaming deeply blue. ‘I thought even you might have something to say about that,’ he responded.
‘Even me?’ she rejoined, wondering exactly what he had meant by that remark.
‘Well, as I’ve already said, you’ve worked for me for six months or so now, and I still know very little about you.’
And he wasn’t going to know anything about her either, if she had her way! Most of it was pretty boring, and what wasn’t boring was pretty damning—as far as Marcus was concerned, she intended her life should remain a closed book!
‘I see nothing wrong in that,’ she told him tartly. ‘The only things I know about your personal life would be better left unknown—’ She broke off abruptly, realising she had yet again overstepped the line she had drawn between them when she had first started working for him. ‘Sorry,’ she muttered, looking away.
Marcus eyed her assessingly. ‘No, you’re not,’ he said comfortably. ‘You said you share this apartment?’ he continued.
One of the things she most admired about this man was his intelligence—though she wasn’t quite so sure about that when it was directed towards her! She had thought he hadn’t paid any particular notice to her comment about sharing the apartment, but he had simply been saving his curiosity for the right moment. Like now.
‘Yes,’ she answered unhelpfully. ‘Now, what is it you want me to wear this weekend, if not my business clothes?’ She noted his own casual black denims and dark blue shirt open at the throat.
‘Anything but,’ he responded. ‘What you have on is okay—if you were going to pay a visit on an aged relative! And I’m sure those suits you wear to the office are very smart—’
‘But?’ Kit interjected guardedly, already stung by his comment about the cream linen suit she was wearing. Though the four dark suits that she usually wore to work were sensible, they were smart of their kind—and had been expensive too.
‘But they aren’t suitable for a summer weekend in the country,’ Marcus persisted unapologetically. ‘For instance, have you packed a bikini?’
‘Certainly not!’
‘Well, Desmond has a full-sized outdoor heated swimming pool. Plus a stable if you happen to ride—’
‘I don’t.’ Kit did her best to repress a shudder just at the thought of getting on a horse; they were truly magnificent creatures to look at—from a distance!—but too unpredictable for her taste. ‘I like to go for walks, though,’ she said lightly, starting to wonder if this weekend might not be fun, after all.
‘Then you’ll need a pair of walking boots, and so do I,’ Marcus informed her happily. ‘And a pair of jeans and some tops to relax in during the day, plus something a bit more glamorous for dinner in the evenings—’
‘Okay, okay.’ Kit held up her hands in self-defence. ‘I get the picture.’
‘Good.’ Marcus nodded his satisfaction. ‘Off you go and change, and repack your suitcase, then. I’ll just sit in here and look through your book collection while I’m waiting,’ he informed her arrogantly, before strolling into the sitting-room to do exactly that.
Kit stared after him frustratedly. She might, as she said, get the picture, but how on earth was she supposed to keep up the prim Miss McGuire role wearing denims—or worse!—a bikini?
CHAPTER THREE
‘THAT’S better!’ Marcus voiced his approval when Kit rejoined him in the sitting-room fifteen minutes later.
Fifteen agonizing minutes later. Kit simply hadn’t known what to do for the best once she was in her bedroom. If she did as Marcus asked, and dressed and behaved as casually as he was himself, wasn’t that going to make a nonsense of the working relationship she had gone to such lengths to establish the last six months? But on the other hand, if she didn’t fulfil her role as his PA, Marcus wasn’t going to think she was of much use to him, and maybe he’d decide, as he obviously had with Angie Dwyer, that she wasn’t working out too well.
Besides, as he had gone to great pains to point out, he had no designs upon her body!
Not sure whether she felt relieved, chagrined, or just plain disappointed about that, Kit had taken a quick inventory of her wardrobe and had picked out the clothing she thought might do for the occasion, without compromising herself too much. From the look on Marcus’s face as he looked at her now in a black tee shirt and fashionable fitted black trousers, he obviously approved of the transformation.
‘At least,’ he said as he slowly stood up, ‘the clothes are. Can’t you do something with your hair?’ He glowered at the severe style she still wore. ‘And the glasses?’ he added with exasperation. ‘Desmond is going to think my taste has turned to the studious!’
‘As opposed to dumb blondes!’ Kit was stung into retorting, the colour swiftly entering her cheeks as Marcus turned to look at her beneath lowered lids. ‘I’m so sorry!’ she gasped. ‘I really shouldn’t have said that. I just—You were being extremely personal about me, and so—’
‘You felt the freedom to be extremely personal about me, in return,’ Marcus drawled.
She grimaced. ‘Yes.’
‘Fair enough,’ he agreed.
Her eyes widened in surprise. She had expected a verbal setting-down, if nothing else. ‘It is?’
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Although I wouldn’t advise you to do it too often!’
Kit stared at him for several seconds, and then she gave a laugh as she saw the glint in his dark blue eyes.
Marcus tilted his head as he looked at her consideringly. ‘Is that really how you see the women I’ve been involved with?’ he asked quizzically.
In truth, yes. Oh, they were beautiful enough, but Kit very much doubted that their conversation had run to much more than fashion and social chit chat. Not exactly scintillating to a man of Marcus’s intelligence. Although she very much doubted it was intellect that had attracted him to them!
‘Perhaps,’ she answered noncommittally. ‘Although I really don’t know them well enough to comment, do I?’
‘That doesn’t seem to have stopped you doing exactly that, anyway,’ Marcus pointed out dryly.
No, it hadn’t, had it? Kit realised, the colour once more in her cheeks. And it really wasn’t any of her business, was it…?
She put up a self-conscious hand to her hair, aware that its vibrancy of colour was mostly muted by its severe style; that it glowed like flame when released, sometimes deeply red, sometimes that red hinting at gold, at other times just pure gold. As for discarding her glasses…!
‘Which brings us back to your hair,’ Marcus said firmly as he saw her nervous movement. ‘It looks like okay hair to me.’
‘It is,’ she confirmed awkwardly.
‘Then why not let it down for a change? Just your hair, Miss McGuire,’ he added as he recognized his choice of words could be misinterpreted. ‘And do you really need those glasses?’ He reached out as if to pluck them off her nose. ‘The lenses don’t look very strong to me—hey, I was only going to look at them!’ he protested as she swung away from his hand.
‘You might break them,’ she said stiltedly, reaching up herself to remove the glasses; she had her contacts with her, could put them in later. ‘I really only need them for reading,’ she excused, her face turned away as she put the glasses carefully into their case and into her handbag.
‘Miss McGuire…?’
‘Yes?’ she replied distractedly.
‘Would you mind looking at me when I talk to you?’
‘What—?’ She broke off as she turned and saw the look on Marcus’s face. He was staring at her, which sent the colour once more to flush her cheeks.
And she knew what he would see too; eyes of deep gun-metal grey, but with the softness of velvet, her lashes long and dark, those eyes emphasizing her high cheekbones, the perfect bow of her lips.
Marcus blinked. ‘Could you take down your hair, too?’ he pressed huskily.
She gave an irritated groan. ‘Look, I really don’t think this is at all necessary—’
‘Please,’ he pushed gently.
Kit shot him an uncertain glance before looking away again, reaching up to remove the pins from her hair, its straight, silky softness falling gently about her shoulders, the sunlight streaming in through the window giving it the texture of living flame.
‘There.’ She raised her chin as she looked at him, flicking her hair back over her shoulder as she did so. ‘Satisfied?’
Marcus put a hand up to absently stroke the roughness of his chin as he continued to look at her with enigmatic eyes. ‘As a matter of fact—no, I’m far from satisfied!’ he replied. ‘What I am, though, is curious as to why you’ve been walking around my office the last six months masquerading as someone’s maiden aunt, when, in actual fact, you really look like this!’
Kit continued to look at him with steady grey eyes. ‘Like what?’
He looked ready to explode. ‘Like—like—’
‘Yes?’ she prompted curiously.
‘You know exactly what you look like, Miss McGuire,’ he bit out coldly. ‘What I want to know is why?’
She avoided meeting his gaze. ‘If you really must know—’
‘Oh, I think I really must,’ he assured sarcastically.
Kit took a deep breath. ‘My previous boss thought it part of my job description to go to bed with him. And after Angie Dwyer’s comments about you, I—well, I thought it best not to draw attention to—to my femininity,’ she concluded awkwardly.
‘In other words, you didn’t draw my attention to it!’ Marcus rasped furiously. ‘Damn it, have I so much as looked at you in a way that could be called personal in the last six months?’
‘No,’ she acknowledged with a pained grimace, knowing his anger was justified.
‘You—I—oh, to hell with this,’ he suddenly said impatiently. ‘If you’re ready, let’s just go, shall we?’ He turned on his heel and walked out of her apartment.
Kit breathed a sigh of relief at being released from his domineering company for a couple of minutes at least, the tension relaxing from her shoulders. Marcus obviously wasn’t a happy man at what he saw to be her transition from moth into butterfly, or the reason for it. As she had known he wouldn’t be…
Oh, well. She gave a philosophical shrug of her shoulders as she picked up her bag and followed him out to his car; he had asked for it, hadn’t he? He could hardly sack her just because she had turned out to be more attractive without her hair confined and not wearing her glasses than he had actually bargained for!
‘Where, exactly, are we going?’ she asked after ten minutes of silent driving on Marcus’s part—and, she admitted, a certain amount of discomfort on hers!
‘Worcestershire,’ he supplied economically.
‘Really?’ She brightened. ‘I’ve never been there, but I believe it’s supposed to be a very pretty county—’
‘Would you mind not chattering?’ Marcus cut in hardly. ‘I need to concentrate while I’m driving.’
He needed to learn some manners too—but somehow Kit didn’t think he would appreciate having her point that out to him!
But if he didn’t want to talk, she was quite happy to look out the window at the countryside as they left London far behind them, the Jaguar sports car Marcus drove quickly eating up the miles.
She’d had all too few opportunities to get out of London since selling her car six months ago, driving and parking in the city simply weren’t worth the nightmare. Her parents lived in Cornwall, and it was easier to get on the train when she went to see them than it was to struggle through all the tourist traffic that constantly clogged the roads down there.
‘Okay, I apologize for my brusqueness,’ Marcus said suddenly beside her, startling her out of her reverie.
Kit tilted her chin up as she looked at him. ‘Which time?’
His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he glanced back at her.
‘Both times,’ he acknowledged. ‘I admit, I was initially a little—startled, by the change in your appearance—even more so by the reason for the subterfuge in the first place.’ He looked darkly at the road ahead. ‘Talk if you want to,’ he commanded.
Kit continued to watch him for several long seconds, finding that, now he had invited her to talk, she actually had nothing to say!
‘Well?’ he persisted tersely at her continued silence.
She gave a rueful laugh. ‘Isn’t it strange, that when someone invites you to talk, there’s really nothing to talk about? But if I think of anything, I’ll certainly say it,’ she amended hastily at the frown line remaining between his eyes.
Marcus gave a small smile. ‘I’m gratified to hear it!’
‘No, you aren’t,’ she said with certainty. ‘And I’m really quite happy just looking out of the window,’ she assured him. ‘It’s easy to forget, living in London, just how beautiful England really is.’
‘Yes,’ he answered shortly. ‘Tell me a little about yourself, Miss McGuire,’ he invited. ‘I ought to know something about the woman I’m spending the weekend with, don’t you think?’
‘I suppose,’ she acknowledged reluctantly, not sure how much she wanted this man to know about her. Always a private person, she now found it more important than ever to keep personal information to a minimum—considering this man’s connections…
‘You suppose?’ he echoed slightly incredulously. ‘Miss McGuire, I’m not asking for intimate details; just a general outline will do! Things like parents and siblings; after all, your résumé has already told me about your previous employment, educational qualifications and marital status!’
‘Oh, good,’ she said sarcastically. ‘Well, I have two parents: a mother and a father—’
‘I’m glad to hear it!’ he drawled with derisive patience, ‘why is it I get the feeling you really don’t want to talk about your private life?’
‘Probably because I don’t,’ she answered candidly. ‘But I’m quite happy for you to tell me about yours, if you feel so inclined?’ She looked at him expectantly.
He flicked her another glance with those deep blue eyes. ‘You know, I think you might be a lot less trouble as the supremely efficient Miss McGuire; she tends not to answer back!’
Kit grinned self-consciously. ‘Sorry.’
‘No, you’re not. And, for the record, I have a mother and a father, too,’ he continued wryly.
‘Well, at least we have that much in common, Mr Maitland—’
‘Marcus,’ he insisted. ‘I think that might sound a little less—formal, for the benefit of this weekend, don’t you?’ He raised mocking brows.
She hesitated for a moment. ‘You know, I really don’t think you thought the consequences of this weekend through enough before deciding on your plan of action—’
‘You don’t?’ His brows rose higher.
‘No, I don’t.’ Kit turned fully in her seat to look at him. ‘For one thing,’ she continued determinedly as he would have interrupted, ‘how are we supposed to go back to being Mr Maitland and Miss McGuire when we return to the office on Monday morning? And for another—’
‘Tuesday morning,’ Marcus corrected. ‘We aren’t leaving until Monday afternoon,’ he explained as she looked at him enquiringly.
So now, attracted to him as she was, she had three torturous days in his company instead of two!
Great!
‘But you’re right about the Miss McGuire bit,’ Marcus continued thoughtfully. ‘Looking at you now, I’m not sure I will ever be able to think of you in that guise ever again!’
Hadn’t she tried to tell him that—?
‘Or for you to return to that coolly efficient role, either,’ he said pointedly.
Kit winced as she inwardly acknowledged that her change in appearance had also resulted in certain subtle—and some not so subtle!—differences in her personality. Dressed in her casual clothes, her hair loose, and no heavy-framed glasses, she certainly felt, and behaved, differently from the coolly capable Miss McGuire!
‘All in all—Kit,’ he paused briefly before deliberately using her first name, ‘I have a feeling that being away on business with you is going to be altogether a completely different experience to going away with Lewis!’
That was what she was afraid of!
Marcus glanced at her, chuckling huskily as he saw the woebegone expression on her face. ‘Cheer up, Kit,’ he encouraged. ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’
Attracted to him as she was, feeling about him the way that she did, she would rather not think about that, either!
‘After all,’ Marcus went on lightly, completely relaxed now as he drove effortlessly along the country roads, ‘you’re going to be chaperoned by several other guests. And don’t forget, my taste runs to dumb blondes.’
She gave a pained groan. ‘I wish that I had never made that remark!’
Marcus was grinning, obviously enjoying her discomfort now. ‘Well, it’s a sure fact you aren’t blonde.’ He gave her hair an admiring glance. ‘And I can personally vouch for the fact that you aren’t dumb, either!’
She gave a heavy sigh. ‘Mr Maitland—’
‘Marcus,’ he reminded her firmly. ‘Is Kit short for something else?’ he mused. ‘Kitty or Kathryn, something like that?’
‘It’s short for Kit,’ she told him woodenly. ‘Plain and simple Kit.’
‘Okay.’ He shrugged broad shoulders. ‘You were going to say something before we got into this discussion about names…?’
‘Before you got into the discussion about names,’ she corrected flatly. ‘And I was just going to apologize—’ once again! ‘—for my remarks about your personal life. They were rude, and intrusive, and altogether—’
‘True,’ he finished happily. ‘But I’m sure it isn’t too late for my tastes to change—to tall, outspoken redheads, for instance.’
Kit was almost afraid to look at him now, sure he was just teasing her to get his own back for her earlier remarks—but at the same time she wasn’t sure of any such thing!
It was difficult to tell what he was thinking from the blandness of his expression. Deliberately so? Probably, she acknowledged heavily. One thing she had learnt over the last couple of days: Marcus had a wicked sense of humour when he chose to exert it.
‘Very funny,’ she scorned, choosing to err on the side of caution. ‘Do you have any idea who any of the other guests will be this weekend?’ She deliberately changed the subject onto something less personal. And disturbing!
‘The usual hangers-on and social bores a man like Desmond Hayes attracts, I suppose. Never mind, Kit, we’ll have each other for company.’
Now she knew he was deliberately teasing her. Because he knew she found him attractive? Because he had guessed that, against all the warnings, she had fallen into the trap of being half in love with him? That would be just too awful! Well, in this case, lack of interest was the best form of defence…
‘How nice.’ She made her reply deliberately saccharine-sweet.
Marcus gave an appreciative laugh. ‘Well, I can assure you, Kit, I’m certainly not expecting to be bored!’
While he kept teasing her like this, no, she didn’t expect that he would be…
She gave a weary yawn. ‘I’m feeling rather tired. Would you mind if I had a short nap before we arrive?’ Not waiting for his reply, she settled herself down in her seat and closed her eyes.
Shutting out his image along with it.
But not her full awareness of him. Of the lean strength of his hands as he drove with such easy assurance. Or, the sprinkling of dark hair that ran the length of his arms. And further. The determination of his jaw. The full sensuality of his lips. The dark blue of his eyes. The way those eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled or laughed. The potent, slightly elusive smell of his aftershave.
Face it, Kit, she told herself derisively; you stand about as much chance of relaxing around Marcus Maitland, of really going to sleep, as you do sitting next to a tiger poised to spring!
But that didn’t stop her giving every appearance of dozing during the rest of the journey, only making a pretence of waking as Marcus touched her arm lightly and told her that they had arrived.
‘You had a good nap,’ he told her admiringly as he brought the Jaguar to a stop on the gravel driveway in front of what looked like once having been a stately home. Huge pillars supported its entranceway, the stonework old and mellowed. Noise seemed to flow from every open window as the two of them stepped out onto the gravel driveway, where there were a dozen or so other cars already parked outside.
‘“Come and spend a peaceful weekend in the country” was how Desmond described it to me!’ Marcus gave a hint of his distaste for the loud music and chatter as he moved to get their bags from the boot of the car.
Although not normally one for crowds of people on a superficial basis, Kit found herself smiling, quite happy to make this weekend the exception; the more people there were around them, the less likely she was to be so aware of Marcus. Or to spend too much time alone with him.
‘It sounds like fun,’ she responded lightly.
Marcus gave a disgusted snort, leading the way up the stone steps that fronted the house. Its massive front door was thrown open and the large entrance hall inside was filled with what looked like dozens of people.
‘Are you sure you have the right weekend?’ Kit questioned of Marcus.
‘I’m sure,’ he replied grimly. ‘You—’
‘Kit? Hey, Kit, is that really you?’ called out a familiar voice.
A voice that made her freeze in her tracks and caused the smile to fade from her lips as she looked frantically around the entrance hall for its source.
And then she saw him, making his way purposefully towards her, a smile of amused recognition on his overconfident, too-handsome face.
Mike Reynolds.
Her ex-boss from hell.
But he wasn’t the sole reason her cheeks paled and her breathing seemed to stop. There was also another person whom she could see standing a short distance behind Mike Reynolds. Someone Kit wanted to see even less than she did Mike!
Catherine Grainger…
CHAPTER FOUR
KIT was so stunned that she stood totally immobile as Mike Reynolds took her in his arms and gave her a bear hug.
It was as if he had totally forgotten that the last time the two of them had met she had told him exactly what he could do with his job—and his sexual harassment!
But Kit hadn’t forgotten, stiffening in his arms and trying to push him away, panic setting in as she wished herself anywhere but here. Mike Reynolds was bad enough, but she could handle him. She just hadn’t been prepared for that other, much more disturbing guest.
Mike stepped back, his hands gripping the tops of her arms as he held her in front of him. ‘You’re looking good, kid,’ he said, his bold blue gaze moving slowly down the length of her body.
Kit’s mouth tightened at his familiarity, her eyes glowing deeply grey as she glared at him. ‘It’s a pity—’
‘—that we haven’t seen each other for so long,’ he completed smoothly.
She had been going to say something much more insulting! Which was totally unlike her. But after the shock she had just received, politeness—especially to Mike Reynolds!—was the last thing on her mind.
Mike nodded appreciatively, apparently completely impervious to her less-than-enthusiastic response as his arm slid lightly across her shoulders as he moved to stand next to her. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend, Kit?’ he prompted lightly as he looked curiously at Marcus.
Marcus!
It was testament to the shock she had received in the last few moments that she had completely forgotten Marcus had entered the house with her. In fact, she had completely forgotten everything else but that disturbing female presence standing only metres away from her!
She shrugged off the arm Mike had draped about her shoulders, moving deliberately away from him to stand next to Marcus. She shot a glance at her boss; he was watching her and Mike, his expression unreadable, his gaze hooded.
‘Yes, do introduce us, Kit,’ he encouraged now in a voice that sounded as if it came after walking over broken glass.
Kit winced at the sound of it, knowing that the last thing she wanted to do was introduce these two men. Yet it seemed that was the one thing she was going to have to do if she was going to escape from this hallway any time soon. And she most certainly was going to have to escape, to find somewhere she could be on her own for a while, if only to give herself time to decide what she should do next.
Because she couldn’t stay on here. Not now.
‘Marcus Maitland. Mike Reynolds,’ she introduced stiffly, seriously wondering if this weekend could get any worse than it already was. Not only Mike Reynolds, of all people, but—
‘Marcus! Darling…!’ suddenly greeted an all-too-familiar voice.
It just had, Kit acknowledged with an inward groan. Andrea Revel’s heady perfume enveloped them all as she moved into their group and stood on tiptoe to kiss Marcus lingeringly on the lips.
‘And Kit, too.’ Andrea turned to her, the light of triumph in those cat-green eyes before she gave Kit the merest peck on the cheek. ‘How nice,’ she added with dismissive insincerity before turning back to Marcus. ‘Derek Boyes was kind enough to invite me to come with him this weekend,’ she told him with glee as she linked her arm companionably with his.
Kit looked at Marcus beneath lowered lids, but it was impossible to tell from his enigmatic expression just how he was taking that particular piece of news. Although he had to feel something; after all—despite Marcus’s claim that the relationship was over—he and Andrea had been something of an item for at least the last couple of months.
‘How nice,’ he finally answered with the same insincerity Andrea had used towards Kit a few minutes ago.
Causing Kit to look at him with a new appreciation; perhaps he wasn’t as blind to this woman’s bitchiness as she had thought that he was…?
‘Well, if the two of you will excuse us…?’ He deftly removed his arm from Andrea’s clinging grasp as he bent to pick up his and Kit’s cases. ‘Kit and I have only just arrived, so I think it might be appropriate if we find our host and say hello, don’t you?’ Without waiting for a response from either Mike Reynolds or Andrea, he motioned Kit with an urgent inclination of his head to move further into the house.
Further into the lion’s den, as far as Kit was concerned. This weekend was just going from bad to worse. And she had thought the only thing she would have to worry about during the next couple of days was keeping her feelings towards Marcus hidden from him!
A glance at his face as they walked away from the other couple was enough to tell Kit that he wasn’t quite as calm as he wanted to appear: his mouth was set grimly, his eyes narrowed to icy blue slits.
‘Stop looking so worried, Kit,’ he bit out between clenched teeth. ‘I’m not the type to make a scene.’
She hadn’t for a moment thought that he was—it was that he had just thought about making one that bothered her!
But perhaps the fact that Andrea was here with another man had made him realise he didn’t want the woman out of his life, after all? What other possible reason could there be for him making a scene…?
But Marcus’s attention seemed to become distracted as he looked around them, that frownline back between his eyes. ‘There’s something odd going on here,’ he muttered harshly.
Surely he hadn’t just noticed! Her ex-boss was here, someone she had hoped never to see again, and the current woman in his life was here with another man, and as for—
‘Look around you, Kit,’ he said.
She gave him a startled look. ‘Look—?’
‘Just look,’ Marcus encouraged gruffly.
Kit looked, seeing twenty or so other guests: all of the men looked rich and confident, the women beautiful and glamorous.
But when she looked closer, at individuals, she realised that she recognized quite a number of the men, that several of them had either met with Marcus on business, or she had actually seen their photographs—including Mike Reynolds’s!—in the business newspapers in connection with one successful deal or another.
‘Exactly,’ Marcus pronounced as he saw the dawning realisation on her face. ‘It seems I’m not the only one to have heard the rumours. Or that Desmond isn’t averse to actually using those rumours to his own advantage,’ he added knowingly.
Kit instantly saw what he meant by that remark. Bring together a group of a dozen businessmen, supposedly on a social basis, but with the real object of picking up a bargain on a business deal—like sharks circling one of their own injured species!—and the price on those deals was sure to go higher than if business had been done with those individuals on a private basis.
She gave a rueful smile. ‘He could even have started them.’
Marcus turned to give her an admiring look. ‘You’re turning out to be amazingly astute, Kit,’ he said appreciatively.
She felt the blush in her cheeks at this unexpected compliment. ‘It was just a guess,’ she admitted. ‘I could be completely wrong.’
He gave her a teasing smile. ‘I’m not sure that—well, well, well,’ he said consideringly as something over her left shoulder caught and held his attention, his expression once again enigmatic.
Kit stiffened. ‘What is it?’ she asked as he continued to look at something—or someone!—behind her.
‘Hmm?’ he murmured distractedly. ‘Let’s go and say hello to our esteemed host, shall we?’ He didn’t wait for her reply before grasping her arm with his free hand and directing her across the hallway.
Kit almost came to a full stop again as she saw their host chatting amiably with a number of people, easily recognizing several of them; Mike Reynolds had joined them, since she and Marcus had left him a couple of minutes ago.
Marcus turned to give her a curious glance as he sensed her reluctance to join the group. ‘How about we have a little chat about—your friend, later, hmm?’ he suggested.
She gave him a sharp look before replying, ‘Mike Reynolds is no friend of mine!’
‘I already gathered that,’ Marcus replied. ‘But I have a feeling that he was once,’ he added speculatively.
‘No way!’ Kit denied heatedly. ‘Mike Reynolds is nothing but a—’
‘Later, Kit,’ Marcus advised tersely as they reached their host. ‘And don’t forget what I told you: observe and listen.’ He turned a socially bright smile on Desmond Hayes. ‘Quite a crowd you have here, Desmond,’ he greeted the other man jovially, releasing Kit’s arm to shake the other man’s hand.
‘Marcus!’ The other man’s face lit with recognition. ‘So glad you could make it,’ he welcomed with the smooth charm for which he was renowned. He was a tall, attractive man in his late fifties, his dark hair sprinkled with silver, his lined face handsome, his smiling blue eyes sharply intelligent.
Kit stood slightly behind the two men as they greeted each other, trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. ‘Observe and listen,’ Marcus had told her—when all she really wanted to do was blend in with the velvet-embossed wallpaper, disappear into it if that were at all possible!
How much longer was this torture to go on before she could escape to the bedroom she had been allocated and actually give herself time to think—and breathe? Because she was sure she had all but stopped doing the latter a good five minutes ago!
‘And this is Kit. Kit…?’ Marcus called sharply, having turned to introduce her only to find her lurking behind him.
She moistened dry lips, keeping her gaze down on the carpeted floor as she held out her hand to the other man. ‘Mr Hayes,’ she greeted shyly.
‘Desmond, please,’ the older man encouraged with warm invitation, holding onto her hand to pull her slightly forward as she would have released it. ‘And just where has Marcus been hiding you?’ he queried.
Kit swallowed, still not looking up, but very much aware that the group around them had grown silent now as they listened to the exchange. Exchange? It could hardly be called that when Desmond Hayes was the one doing all the talking! In a flirtatious way he had. And, to add to her confusion, he still hadn’t released her hand!
She moistened her lips once again. ‘I—’
‘Careful, Desmond,’ Marcus told the other man with lazy derision, his arm moving casually about Kit’s shoulders as he did so.
‘Private property, eh, Marcus?’ the older man said regretfully.
Kit found this whole conversation distasteful—and attention-drawing. Which was what she most certainly didn’t want at this particular moment!
‘Something like that,’ Marcus returned noncommittally.
‘Can I offer the two of you glasses of champagne?’ Without waiting for their answer, Desmond Hayes plucked two flutes off the tray that a passing waiter was carrying.
Kit accepted the glass he held out to her, taking a much-needed sip of the bubbly liquid it contained. Getting drunk certainly wouldn’t help this situation, but hopefully she would become too numb to care!
Marcus held up the two bags he was carrying. ‘Are you going to tell us where the two of us are to sleep so that I can get rid of these, or do we just go upstairs and take our pick of bedrooms?’ he prompted.
‘I’ll have Forbes take your luggage upstairs,’ Desmond Hayes murmured apologetically, giving Kit’s hand one last familiar squeeze before releasing it to turn and signal to the butler standing unobtrusively down the hallway. The elderly man immediately came over to relieve Marcus of the two bags.
Not that Kit was taking too much notice of these proceedings, still caught up in Marcus’s last comment, especially the part about, ‘where the two of us are to sleep’!
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