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‘Real men?’ His sardonic smile was the final straw and she glared at him over the rim of the mug.
‘Yes. And by that I don’t mean all that muscle and testosterone stuff. ‘Her eyes dropped to the hint of dark stubble that was already shadowing his jaw. ‘Masculinity isn’t just about looking as if you can split a log with one swing of an axe.’ Which he did. Oh, God, how could a man look so incredibly good first thing in the morning? Particularly after he’d slept in a chair. Stubble on most men just looked unkempt. On Damon Doukakis it simply amplified his ferocious sex appeal. It wasn’t fair.
‘I’ve split logs in my time, but I confess I’ve never done it wearing a pink shirt.’
Assailed by an unsettling image of those broad shoulders swinging an axe, Polly was about to put the mug down when she spotted the ink on the bedcover. ‘Oh, no! Did I do that? I’m so sorry. I must have fallen asleep holding my pen.’
‘Your pink, fluffy, happy pen. The one that is necessary for all your creative thinking.’
Something in his tone didn’t sound quite right but Polly was too mortified by the damage she’d caused to work out what. She licked her finger and rubbed at the stain. When that didn’t work, she looked at him apologetically. ‘I’ll buy you another duvet cover. I know you have a low opinion of me but damage to property isn’t on my usual list of crimes. I really am sorry.’
‘Compared to most of the disasters that appear to happen when you are around, I would say I escaped lightly. Get dressed. I want to talk to you.’
‘What have I done this time?’
‘That’s what I intend to find out.’
Polly racked her brains to think of something he could have discovered that might have got her into trouble. Was this something about the way they’d decorated the office? ‘It’s not a great time to talk right now. I need to get going if I’m going to make my train to Paris.’
‘A moment ago you were all but unconscious. You’re not going to Paris.’
‘I slept like the dead because I’m really tired, not because I banged my head. I haven’t slept properly since you rang me to tell me that you were about to ruin my life. And I have to go to Paris. The staff are depending on me to keep that account.’ Trying to wake herself up, Polly pushed her hair away from her face and winced as she encountered the bruise. ‘If I hurry, I can still make it.’
‘Why are you so determined to protect the staff?’
‘What sort of a question is that? Because I care about them, that’s why. I don’t want them to lose their jobs—especially because part of the blame for the current mess lies with my father. I feel responsible. They’ve always been kind to me. And helpful. When I first started in the company I’d just left school—I was clueless.’
‘You didn’t go to university?’
Polly thought wistfully of the prospectuses they’d shredded. ‘I went straight to work in my father’s company when I left school. I learned on the job. You can learn a lot about something by doing it.’ Knowing that someone like him was never going to agree with her, she slumped back against the pillows. ‘Anything else you want to know?’
Her notebook landed on the bed next to her and she stared at it, her cheeks hot as she mentally ran through all the secrets that might have been revealed from that book.
He waited a beat. ‘Well?’
‘Well, what?’
‘It made for extremely illuminating bedtime reading.’
‘It’s very bad manners to read someone else’s private notes,’ she said in a small voice. ‘I suppose you also peep through keyholes and listen at doors.’
‘Yesterday I asked you who came up with the creative ideas. Why didn’t you just tell me the truth?’
‘I told you it was a team effort. That’s the truth.’
‘The tagline and thinking behind the running shoe campaign came from you. If this notebook is to be believed, you’re responsible for every decent creative idea that has come from Prince Advertising in the past three years. I’ve been looking through the portfolio and your company accounts—’
Polly flinched. ‘More bedtime reading? You obviously like a good horror story.’
‘More like a mystery. My financial director, Ellen, has unpicked the finances and those numbers make for interesting reading. Why did everyone agree to take such a drastic pay cut?’
‘You have a female financial director?’
‘Don’t change the subject.’
‘Why did we take a pay cut? Because no one wanted anyone to be made redundant. Close your eyes while I find something decent to wear. You’re right, I can’t have this sort of conversation in my pyjamas.’ Sliding out of bed, Polly grabbed something from her suitcase and shot towards the bathroom. ‘As I said, we’re a team. We’re in this together.’
‘You clearly have significant creative talent. Why wasn’t it recognised?’
