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She glanced down at her lightly structured jacket and short skirt in shot blue silk, which had cost her an arm and a leg in the summer, and which had been bought for the wedding of her cousin, and again blessed the fact that the October day was mild and sunny. She hadn’t spent much on decent clothes lately—the twins always seemed to outgrow their shoes before she could blink and there always were a hundred and one things to buy before she indulged herself—but then she didn’t really need anything. Her leathers were her working clothes, and the nearest she ever got to going out was taking the twins to the park or swimming at the local pool.
Had she scrubbed up sufficiently well to hold her own on a lunch appointment with Mitchell Grey? For the umpteenth time since she’d arrived at the office that morning she opened the bottom drawer of her desk and fished out the small hand mirror she kept there.
Wide brown eyes set under brows that were fine and straight stared back anxiously, a couple of coats of mascara the only make-up she was wearing. She patted one or two errant curls back into the high loose pony-tail on top of her head, the style deceptively casual considering it had taken an hour to complete first thing that morning.
‘You have beautiful hair.’
Her head shot up at the same time as she hastily threw the mirror back into the drawer, slamming it shut and breaking a nail in the process.
Mitchell Grey was standing just inside the open office door, and in the same moment that Kay registered the hard, h
andsome face, full of sharply defined angles and planes made all the more threatening by the jet-black hair, she mentally cursed the fact that, after her being on watch the whole morning, he had to sneak up on her at the very moment she was at a disadvantage.
Her voice reflected some of what she was feeling when she said, ‘Mr Grey. I didn’t hear you come in.’
He raised his eyebrows, his voice lazy and faintly amused. ‘I apologise.’
‘No, I didn’t mean—’ She stopped abruptly. She had meant, actually, she told herself ungrammatically, and she was blowed if she was going to say otherwise, business proposition or no business proposition. She compressed her soft mouth, and then saw his lips twitch with a dart of fury. He thought this was funny, did he? He thought she was funny?
She rose to her feet as gracefully as her old saggy chair would allow, tweaking her skirt into place when she saw the silver eyes rest briefly on the inordinate amount of leg the action had revealed. ‘You found us all right, then?’ She moved across to him with her hand outstretched, determined to seize hold of the situation.
He nodded, his voice now holding the sort of gentleness that suggested he was humouring her when he said, ‘My chauffeur was born and bred in these parts; I don’t think there’s an alley or back way he isn’t familiar with.’
His chauffeur. Oh, wow. But of course a man like Mitchell Grey would have a chauffeur, she told herself helplessly. He probably hadn’t meant it that way but it was a subtle reminder that he was the one holding all the aces and that she couldn’t afford to be touchy around him—not until she knew whether it was going to cost them hard cash, at least.
‘You said something about a business proposition?’ she asked him now as their hands connected.
‘Let’s get on our way first.’
He didn’t have to ask twice. The feel of his warm, hard flesh had unnerved her every bit as much as it had before, and more so considering they were alone here. Besides which, she hadn’t really appreciated just how tatty their premises were until he had walked in—designer perfection personified, she thought nastily, wishing she could honestly tell herself there were something of the dandy about him but knowing it wouldn’t be true. He was all male. Intimidatingly so.
She found herself fumbling with the key as she locked the door to the office, vitally aware of the tall figure waiting for her by the front door of the building, and once they emerged into the busy street and he took her elbow it was all she could do not to pull away. ‘The car’s over here.’ He guided her across the pavement full of lunchtime shoppers towards a long, sleek Bentley parked on double yellow lines, a uniformed chauffeur sitting impassively in the front seat.
Once in the leather-clad interior Kay had a brief tussle with her skirt before sitting as primly as it would allow. Why hadn’t she noticed how short it was at Caroline’s wedding? she asked herself as a mortifyingly large expanse of nylon-clad flesh made itself known. Probably because Mitchell Grey wasn’t at the nuptials was the answer to that, she admitted irritably.
‘Relax, Kay.’
The shock of hearing her name spoken by the richly dark voice brought her head swinging round to meet his gaze, and she saw the silver-blue eyes were narrowed thoughtfully on her face.
‘I beg your pardon?’ She tried for icy hauteur but the effect was ruined by her breathlessness. He was close, very close in the confines of the car, and like once before the subtle sexy aftershave he wore had her pulse rate flying.
‘You’re tense, keyed up,’ he said soothingly, ‘and there is no need to be, really. Look, would it help if I came clean and admitted right now that there is no business proposition? That this is intended to be just a nice meal in comfortable surroundings where we can chat and get to know each other a little?’
Would it help? Would it—? ‘Stop the car!’
‘I’m sorry?’
Even if it had been possible for so ruthless and attractive a man to look innocent, his mild response to her yelp of outrage wouldn’t have deceived her. She glared at him, her face flushed and her mouth set, and it was incredibly galling to see he wasn’t in the least ashamed of himself.
‘I said, stop the car,’ Kay ground out through clenched teeth.
‘All in good time.’ And he had the effrontery to try a smile that she supposed he imagined made him irresistible. ‘I want to explain first. You had clearly made up your mind that you didn’t want to see me again—’
‘How right you are,’ she snarled softly.
‘And so all this deception is entirely your fault,’ he continued silkily.
‘My fault?’
