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Alex nodded after a moment with just the hint of a smile in her eyes. ‘There was a much shorter skirt I could have had with this top.’
‘And Margaret would have been happy with it?’
Alex narrowed her eyes, suddenly sensing dangerous ground for some reason. ‘I can’t remember. I did try on an awful lot of clothes. Does it matter?’
‘No,’ Max Goodwin said somewhat grimly at the same time as he thought, I don’t believe you, Ms Hill. And what game is Margaret playing at? Pairing me off with this girl?
He paused his thoughts as it suddenly struck him that this Alex Hill was not only drop-dead gorgeous, she was refreshingly different and unusually engaging and in any other circumstances he would be intrigued by her on a different level altogether. A physical, personal level that had much more to do with those stunning legs and eyes, that lovely slim body rather than her fluency in Mandarin.
He shook his head and broke off that train of thought abruptly.
‘Oh.’ Alex swung her small bag on its long chain off her shoulder and opened it to produce Simon’s badge. ‘This should help.’ She pinned it onto her blouse. ‘Surely I look like part of the staff now?’
Max didn’t reply.
The cocktail party lasted for two hours.
Alex didn’t once leave Max Goodwin’s side and was happy not to do so because, as he’d predicted, she did attract some attention.
People, mostly men at first, were anxious to be introduced to her and were taken aback to discover she was actually working. Then, as she spoke her fluent Mandarin, many of the wives were also intrigued and struck up conversations with her.
After the first shock of it, she managed to handle it as briefly and courteously as possible and for the most part she clung stringently to her role and concentrated fiercely.
The one occasion that nearly tripped her up was, gallingly for Alex, exactly what Max had predicted might happen.
Paul O’Hara was introduced to her as an intern working in Max Goodwin’s office as part of his pursuit of a Master’s degree in Business Management. And, Max Goodwin had revealed with a grin, he was a cousin. He was about twenty-five, fair and pleasant-looking with humorous grey eyes. He also took one look at her and the stunned admiration that gripped him was all too clear to see.
But then—Max Goodwin had turned away by this time—a frown filled those grey eyes as Paul O’Hara looked from Alex to Max’s back, and his gaze came back to her with a clear question along the lines of, Are you his property?
Alex blushed and her lips parted, but how could you refute something like that in the middle of a cocktail party when you were working? What had it to do with a man she’d just been introduced to anyway?
So she tilted her chin imperiously and turned away.
It took an effort of will, though, to gather her concentration, but, fortunately, this first social event was less formal than what was to come and there were no welcome speeches, no ‘meaningful conversations outside the conference room’ for her to deal with.
It was mostly introductions as the South Pacific back-ground enchanted many of the guests and obviously melted a lot of constraints. So it was a success, the opening cocktail party, a lively throng that was a blend of Chinese businessmen and the top management echelon from Goodwin Minerals, also, in many cases, accompanied by their stylish wives.
But as the last guests departed Alex looked wordlessly at Max Goodwin and drew a deep breath she let out very, very slowly.
His eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘That was quite a performance, Ms Hill. I salute you. But would I be right in thinking you’re exhausted?’
‘I feel as if I’ve been through a wringer,’ she said candidly.
‘Then go through to the green room,’ he instructed. ‘I’ll bring a restorative.’
Alex hesitated. ‘I should be going home.’
‘In a while. Here we go.’ He scooped two glasses of champagne from a passing waitress. ‘After you.’
She hesitated a moment longer, then did as she was told. This time, her second visit to the green room, she sat down on a settee and removed her shoes with a genuine sigh of relief. ‘Sorry,’ she murmured as she arched her feet and accepted her glass from him. ‘New shoes.’ She studied her feet, then lifted her head to him. ‘That was quite a party. I guess it’s going to take some deconstructing.’
‘Margaret and Jake are experts at it—they’re like generals in the field,’ he said with a glimmer of a smile. ‘They’ll both stay the night downstairs and by tomorrow morning you’d never know the South Pacific had come to town.’
He sat down opposite in an armchair and sipped his champagne. He’d only had one glass during the party, and she, of course, hadn’t drunk at all.
Alex took a sip herself and smiled suddenly. ‘Now that is nice.’
‘It should be—it’s very expensive champagne. Your convent didn’t warn you off alcohol and all the darker things it could lead to?’ he queried rather dryl
