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‘Thank you.’ And now his smile wasn’t strained any more as he said, ‘Can I kiss you, as a friend?’
‘Sure.’ She smiled at him, her eyes warm.
She leant forward and their lips touched briefly as he hugged her tight for one moment before they settled back in their seats, and Jerry was just saying, a touch of laughter in his voice, ‘And you can be bridesmaid, eh?’ when there was a sharp tap on the passenger window, which nearly caused Sephy to jump into Jerry’s lap in fright.
Conrad Quentin was glaring at them—that was the only word she could use, Sephy thought with a touch of silent hysteria—as she surveyed the cold, harsh face of her boss through the glass.
‘What the…?’
As Jerry began to speak, his tone the angriest she had ever heard it, Sephy put one hand over his and said quickly, ‘It’s all right, really, Jerry, I’ll sort it. Thanks for the lift, but just go now, would you?’
‘Are you sure?’ he asked doubtfully, and then, as Conrad had the audacity to smack on the glass again, with enough power to make it shake, Sephy saw Jerry’s face change and quickly opened the car door. She had heard it said the quietest ones were the worst when they got going, and Jerry looked as though he was about to do murder.
‘I’ll see you tonight,’ she said hurriedly, before she slammed the door shut and walked straight past the tall, dark figure at the side of the car, intent only on keeping the two men apart.
She was already in the foyer of the building when Conrad caught up with her, and she could see he was furious with the type of white-hot rage that could explode at any moment. Nevertheless, he didn’t say a word as he joined her in the lift, and nei
ther did she, and it was like that that they travelled up to the top floor and entered the outer office.
But before the door had even had time to close, Sephy had whirled to face him. ‘How dare you? How dare you behave like that?’ she said furiously as their eyes locked. She hadn’t lost her temper in years, but suddenly all her mother’s spirited red-headed genes took over with a vengeance, and although she knew—somewhere in the depths of her—that it was goodbye to her job, to the nice fat salary that paid the bills, no power on earth could have stopped her.
‘How dare I?’ he ground out, anger making the blue of his eyes steely. He was wearing a heavy black overcoat, which increased the overall impression of dark strength and power, and the moments in the rain had caused his short black hair, a lock of which had fallen across his tanned forehead, to curl slightly. It was the only hint of softness in an otherwise formidable countenance. ‘You expect me to allow my secretary to sit necking in full view of the rest of the staff?’ he bit out savagely.
‘Necking?’ She ignored the tense set of his jaw and the splintered bolts of blue shooting from his eyes. ‘I wasn’t necking! I exchanged a peck of a kiss, nothing more, and I don’t have to explain to you anyway,’ she added vehemently. ‘I work for you, that’s all, and as it’s only—’ she consulted the pretty lacy wristwatch that had been a twentyfirst birthday present from her mother ‘—twenty to nine, I’m not even officially doing that at the moment.’
‘Wrong.’ He eyed her grimly, his mouth taut. ‘As my personal secretary there are certain standards you adhere to at all times.’
Standards? He dared to lecture her about standards—moral standards—when he had had more women than she’d had hot dinners? she thought venomously. He had been waiting for her to slip from grace in some way; she just knew it! She had caught him, several times over the last weeks, surveying her coldly from icy-blue eyes as though she was a bug under a microscope.
She didn’t measure up to his precious Madge, obviously, but the covert scrutiny had only had the effect of making her work her socks off to prove herself, so he had nothing to grumble about. If nothing else she had given value for money and he knew it! He knew it all right.
Sephy drew herself up to her full five feet six inches and took a deep breath before she said, her voice withering, ‘Then perhaps it’s better if I resign as your secretary?’
‘Taking the easy way out?’
The easy way out! The contempt in his voice caused her to want to do or say something to hurt him, really hurt him, and it shocked her to the core. She had never in all her life wanted to harm another human being, not even David, and now here she was, in real danger of losing control. The thought checked her, enabling her to say tightly, ‘I won’t be spoken to like that, Mr Quentin.’
‘If you’re trying to make this worse with the “Mr Quentin” tactic then you are succeeding,’ he snapped harshly.
How had she ever got herself into this position? The thought was there in the midst of the awfulness of the moment. Six or seven weeks ago she had been jogging along quite happily, secure in the knowledge she had found the home of her dreams, which she could—just—pay for, and that her life at work and home was tranquil. Admittedly there had been Jerry to deal with, but in comparison to Conrad… Well, there was no comparison.
Conrad Quentin seemed to think he could ride roughshod over all and sundry and get away with it—mainly because he did! But enough was enough. He might be heart-thumpingly attractive, with that certain undefinable something, but she was determined to show him how wrong he had been to jump to such an erroneous conclusion regarding Jerry. Then, having explained, she would walk out of here with some dignity, if nothing else.
‘I’m not trying to make anything worse,’ she snapped back sharply now, ‘but you are the most provoking—’ She stopped abruptly. ‘I’ve worked for you until I’ve dropped over the last few weeks,’ she continued stiffly, after one swift glance at his rigidly cold face that was granite-hard, ‘and I am the last person in the world to take the easy way out. If I’d been going to do that I’d have left the day after I started working for you.’ You impossible man, she added silently.
‘I’m not questioning your efficiency at work, or your aptitude,’ he stated harshly, and then, as he raked back the errant lock of hair from his forehead—something he was apt to do when he was disturbed, she’d noticed in the last weeks—Sephy had the most alarming desire to burst into tears.
She clenched her teeth against the weakness, refusing to acknowledge the trembling in her limbs the confrontation had produced, and prayed for enough composure to be able to say what was needed before she walked out. ‘I thought I had made it plain weeks ago that Jerry and I are just friends,’ she said tightly. ‘He gave me a lift to work because of the rain, that’s all, and he’d just told me he was seeing someone else, as it happens. I…I congratulated him and we exchanged a friendly hug.’
‘A friendly hug.’ It was expressionless, but nevertheless it had the effect of catching her on the raw. ‘And the kiss? Was that friendly too?’
‘I don’t lie, Conrad.’ It was the last straw, the very last straw. The colour had flooded back into her face and her eyes glittered with outrage. ‘And I don’t appreciate being made to look ridiculous in front of my friends either. Your behaviour, not mine, was outrageous, but, like I said, you can have my resignation right now.’
‘In the six weeks since we’ve been working together you have resigned twice, once on the first day,’ he said evenly, after a long pause when Sephy continued to stare back at him, refusing to drop her eyes or in any way appear deferential. ‘What do you suppose that suggests?’
‘I’ve no idea.’ His tone was suddenly too smooth and she didn’t trust him. He was looking at her in that strange way again, which caused further flutters in her stomach. ‘But if I had to take a guess I’d say it might be that it shows you’d have been better off with Marilyn or Philippa or one of the other secretaries?’
‘Marilyn or Philippa?’ The names were said with deep disgust as his eyes narrowed into laser keenness. ‘I think not. You suit me, Sephy. You suit me very well.’
