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At the moment he was regarding Harriet with a brooding look of frustration which suggested that she was a particularly knotty problem.
‘Fleet has quite a reputation in the building.’
She had learned her lesson about jumping to conclusions and endeavoured to respond pleasantly, ‘Yes, I know. They say he has clients clamouring for him to manage their portfolios—’
‘I was talking about his reputation with women,’ he said heavily.
‘Oh!’
‘It’s not very good, I’m afraid.’
She was unable to prevent a smile of satisfaction. ‘So I’ve heard.’
Her cheerful reply earned her a reproving frown. ‘Then you probably know that he’s not interested in steady relationships or emotional involvement. To put it bluntly, he’s a master of the one-night stand. Once he’s achieved his aim he moves on. He’s addicted to the thrill of the chase and he considers any woman who accepts a date with him as fair game.’
‘Really…’ Harriet gritted her teeth at his patronising tone. She knew that Marcus Fox had a highly developed sense of responsibility towards his employees, but until now she had never considered him pompous. Not only had he insulted her by totally ignoring her sparkling new image, but, like Brian Jessop, he evidently thought that the changes were purely cosmetic. He was telling her that staid, unadventurous Harriet Smith couldn’t possibly cope with the attentions of sophisticated, fun-loving Michael Fleet.
The lift came to a halt and she watched in angry disbelief as Marcus Fox placed his large hand over the control panel to delay the door opening so that he could continue his infuriating little homily.
‘Not only is Fleet indiscriminate, but he has no respect for the woman’s privacy when he notches up a victory. He’s an inveterate boaster about his conquests. He’s even been known to bet on the outcome of a date. All he’s interested in is having a good time, and he expects the women he goes out with to have the same free-and-easy morals—’
‘Good!’ she snapped, using the element of surprise to grasp his solid wrist and push it sharply away from the control buttons so that the doors sprang open.
‘Good?’ Marcus Fox stayed rooted to the spot as she stepped out onto the thick grey carpet of the executivesuite foyer. ‘What do you mean—good?’
Harriet turned to look at him and was deeply gratified by his censorious expression. At last she had surprised a genuine reaction out of him!
‘I mean good, he sounds like a really hot date,’ she said with a reckless toss of her head.
‘A hot date?’ He repeated the words slowly, as if they were in an alien tongue.
‘Yeah, you know—one where there’s a lot of action.’
‘Action?’ The doors were closing on him and he darted out between them with a startling burst of agility for such a powerfully built man.
‘Fun.’
His black brows lowered even further as he towered over her. ‘You’re going out with Michael Fleet for fun?’ he rumbled.
‘Well, I’m certainly not going out with him in order to have a perfectly miserable time,’ she said sweetly.
He dismissed her dripping sarcasm with an impatient wave. ‘Miss Smith, I wonder if you’ve quite grasped the import of my remarks?’
‘Of course I have,’ she said in exasperation. ‘You’re warning me that by tomorrow I’ll just be another notch on the matchwood that passes for Michael’s bedpost.’
‘Miss Smith!’
‘Mr Fox!’
It finally seemed to sink in that the paragon of secretarial virtues was thumbing her nose at her great leader’s words of worldly wisdom. He muttered something harsh under his breath and forgot his gentlemanly manners sufficiently to turn on his heel and stride ahead of her through the open glass doors to their left. He paused briefly beside a grey-haired woman who was quietly tapping at her computer.
?
??No interruptions, please, Miss Broadbent. Miss Smith and I need to discuss her new duties.’
‘Yes, Mr Fox.’
Harriet smiled weakly at Clare Broadbent as she stepped into the lady’s sight-line. She had regretfully accepted that her new image would probably cause her to plummet dramatically in the older woman’s estimation, but to her surprise she wasn’t nailed with a look of frigid contempt. In fact as she walked jerkily into Marcus Fox’s office in his impatient wake she could have sworn that she saw a twinkle of amusement eclipse the surprise in the faded brown eyes.
