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Rachel suspected, however, that Justin was not yet free of his ex. His beautiful blonde ex, Eric had said. Naturally, she would be beautiful. Very beautiful. Men like Carl Toombs didn’t take ugly women as their mistresses. They chose exquisite creatures with perfect faces and figures, women with a weakness for money and a fetish for the forbidden.
It was no wonder Justin had an aversion to sex in the office. Rachel understood completely. But it was time for him to forget the past and move on, as she had decided to do.
Of course, she’d had four years to come to her present state of heart and mind. Justin’s wife had betrayed and abandoned him much more recently. Only two years ago. And she’d said truly dreadful things to him, according to Eric.
What kind of things? Rachel wondered during the lift ride back up to the fifteenth floor. Had she criticised his skills in bed? Hard to imagine that. Justin left Eric for dead as a lover. And every other boyfriend she’d ever had. Perhaps the wretched woman had told him he wasn’t rich enough, or powerful enough? Who knew?
Rachel didn’t dare ask him, but she dared a whole lot more. She dared to go back and tell him she’d changed her mind about resigning. She dared to stay. And she dared to go after some more of what they’d shared on Saturday night.
If truth were told, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Surely he had to be thinking about it, too. Rachel could be wrong but she suspected she was the first woman Justin had had sex with since his wife left him.
The thought amazed, then moved her to anger. Selfish people like Eric and Mandy had a great deal to answer for. But you couldn’t let them get away with trampling all over your emotions, and your life. You had to stand up and fight back. You had to stop playing the victim and move on. There were other people out there. Other partners. But you had to be open to finding them. You had to embrace new experiences, not run away from them.
Rachel left the lift at her floor and hurried along to her office, her new-found boldness waning a little once she approached the door she’d slammed shut less than an hour ago. Suddenly, she was biting her bottom lip and her stomach was churning. Was Justin still there behind that door, sitting at his computers, slaving away? Probably. It wasn’t lunch time yet, and her boss had no reason to go home. He had nothing in his life except his work, a bruised ego and a broken heart.
Till now, that was. Now he had her. Her friendship and companionship. Her body too, if he still wanted it.
Her hand was shaking by the time she summoned up enough courage to knock. But it was a timid tap. Annoyed with herself, she didn’t knock again. Instead she turned the door knob and went right in.
‘Oh, no,’ she groaned, her gaze darting around Justin’s empty office.
Rachel was battling with her disappointment when she heard a banging noise coming from inside one of the adjoining rooms, the one with the bar and the sofa in it. Before her courage failed her again she marched over and flung open the door.
Justin almost dropped the ice-tray he was holding. He hadn’t expected to see Rachel again. Not that day, anyway. After she’d left he’d tried to work, but he’d been too distracted, and too depressed to concentrate. In the end, he’d come in here in search of some liquid relaxation.
‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’ she threw at him.
Her accusing tone—plus her unexpected reappearance—didn’t bring out the best in him.
‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ he countered belligerently. ‘I’m getting myself some ice to put in my Scotch. But the bloody stuff’s stuck.’
‘But…but you never drink during the day!’
‘Actually, you’re wrong there,’ he said drily. ‘I often drink during the day. Just not usually during the week.’ He gave the ice-tray another bang on the granite bar-top and ice cubes flew everywhere.
‘Don’t do that!’ he roared at her when she hurried over and began picking up the ice cubes. Damn it all, the last thing he wanted was for her to start bending over in front of him.
She ignored him and picked them up anyway, giving him a good eyeful of her derrie`re-to-die-for. ‘You shouldn’t drink alone, you know,’ she said as she straightened and dropped several cubes into his glass.
‘What do you care?’ he snapped, irritated by her presence beyond belief. ‘You’re not my keeper. You’re not even my PA any more.’
‘I am, if you still want me to be. I came back to tell you I don’t want to resign. I want to keep working for you.’
He laughed. ‘And you think that’s good news? What if I said I don’t want you working for me any more? What if I said your resigning was exactly what I wanted?’
