His Irresistible Darling

by Sarah Randall

  Recovering quickly from his slip, he straightened in his chair and cleared his throat. “Nothing. Okay well, I’ll have a read over this today. That’s all.”

  Pip gave him a quick nod and walked or rather stormed back to her desk, no doubt pissed off at him now that he had the emotional barrier back in place and hadn’t even uttered a word of thanks for her efforts in completing the task so quickly. What an ungrateful bastard he was.

  ***

  Pip slumped back down in her chair and began typing impatiently on her computer. She needed to file this feeling for the next time her heart when berserk when Jumal walked by her desk…

  “You keep mumbling under your breath people are going to talk, sweetie,” Melina said across the desks.

  “I hate him. Ungrateful bastard.”

  “Ah right, well maybe I can brighten up your day. Reception called for you whilst you were in there. They have a package for you.”

  “A package? But I’m not expecting anything—oooh maybe it’s a present for my birthday from Matt and Ana.” She smiled, pushing up excitedly from her desk.

  “Maybe.” Melina smiled at her mischievously. Her friend knew something and wasn’t for telling.

  Pip felt some trepidation as she stepped into the lift again; she fiddled with her blouse and straightened her skirt on her way down to reception, assuring herself that her luck couldn’t be so bad as to get stuck again. The engineers had assured her that the problem was fixed.

  She let out a relieved sigh as she stepped out into the cool, sand-coloured marble-tiled reception area of Jumal’s elegant building and glanced up towards the cloudless sky, visible through the atrium, and offered a silent prayer of thanks.

  Those prayers were quickly forgotten as she spotted Jake nervously pacing and swinging her lunch box. The man was no doubt uncomfortable under the snake-like gaze of the receptionist, also known as the office gossip.

  She approached him but he hadn’t noticed her yet so she tapped him on the shoulder. “Jake.”

  He spun around to face her, hitting her in the leg with the lunch box. “Oh. Shit I’m sorry!” he blurted out apologetically. “Er, hi. You forgot this in your rush this morning,” he said, thrusting the lunch box at her.

  Oh good grief, there was no good way for that comment to be interpreted and news would likely spread around the office like wildfire that Pippa Darling had been with a man! She gently took hold of his arm and led him away from the reception area.

  “Thanks, it’s sweet of you to bring it for me. I’m forever forgetting and losing things.” She rolled her eyes and smiled at him and decided that he was definitely cute in an all-American clean-cut boyish way—the polar opposite of Jumal.

  “No problem.” She watched him shift his weight from side to side. “Actually, I wondered if you’d like to go and have a coffee with me?”

  “Oh, erm, sure that would be lovely. There’s a nice café in the mezzanine near the waterfall; it will have some shade.” She took her lunch box from him and swung it as she walked past reception and called back over her shoulder, “Reeta, can you tell Melina that I’m taking an early lunch? Thanks.”

  Oh well, she thought, in for a penny in for a pound.

  ***

  The sparkling waters of the Gulf did nothing to lighten Jumal’s mood as he sat back in his chair, steepled his hands and tried to fight the growing unease settling in his stomach, having analysed Pippa’s review of the Dubai contract.

  He’d gone over it again and again to try to allay his fears but without success. There was no getting around it. She’d messed up big time. The only question was whether it had been done deliberately and he found it abhorrent that he couldn’t trust his own judgement on this. Never before had he second-guessed his gut reaction to something but the fallout from this could be catastrophic for his business. He needed a second opinion.

  “So,” he said, turning his chair to face Malik who had just finished reading. “Do you agree with me?”

  Malik looked up from the papers and shook his head, his face giving away his disbelief.

  “I just don’t know why she’d do it,” he said, clearly as shocked as Jumal had been on first reading Pippa’s report and cross-referencing the contract. “She couldn’t have missed it by mistake; it’s too obvious.”

  He watched his friend run a hand roughly through his hair before throwing the report back on his desk and slumping back in his chair.

  “She didn’t miss it,” he declared, confidently. “She knew it was there and didn’t bring it to my attention intentionally. She’s too good to miss it.” He spat out the last words.

  “But Jumal, that’s industrial espionage or something. I mean she’s… she’s…”

  “I know.”

  “Just—” Jumal watched him shake his head again “—wow. So what are you going to do now? Are you going to call the board in?” Malik asked.

  “No. I’ll deal with it myself. Privately,” he added to make sure Malik knew it was to go no further than his office.

  Picking up his mobile phone, Jumal ran his fingers quickly over the numbers; waiting for it to connect, he sat back again in his chair, swinging back around to face the view.

  “We need to talk… No it can’t. My office, now.”

  ***

  “Jeez, Pip Squeak, you landed on your feet when you got this gig. My work experience was at a pig farm in Halifax. This is beautiful.” Pip smiled back over at James in total agreement and tucked her hair back around her ears, securing it under her baseball cap. Drop-tops were great unless you had long hair, but she loved the feeling of the cooling breeze rushing around her as she drove home along the coastal road from the airport. Of course, it had taken her a while to get used to driving on the wrong side of the road and she’d had occasional mishaps that no one needed to know about…

  She smiled over at the friend she’d known for years since he’d become one of the partners at the village’s veterinary practice back home. He was slightly older than she was but they shared a wicked sense of humour and both excelled at teasing her brother mercilessly. It meant a lot to her that he’d taken some of his holiday time to come and visit with her. “I know, right. Wait till you see the pool and gym facilities at the club. You’ll be in heaven—not to mention our beaches,” she yelled, pointing over to her side where the surfers were already taking advantage of the crashing waves.

  “Oh, by the way,” he said, leaning forward and rummaging in his rucksack, “here you go, as per your order.”

  Pip squealed with delight at the package of sweeties he deposited in her lap.

  “I love you, I love you,” she screamed and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Dubain has lots to offer but no good sweets or chocolate. Oh speaking of food,” she said, searching in her door pocket with one hand before glancing down.

  “Hey, watch the road, you nutter,” he shouted, grabbing for the steering wheel.

  “Here you go.” She handed him a small parcel wrapped in a napkin. “I thought you’d be hungry after the horrid plane food. It’s a local delicacy called fatayer. It’s like a meat pie. You’ll love it.”

  He chuckled unwrapping it. “I already love it. A meat pie called fatayer. Ingenious.”

  “So I was thinking we could hit the pool and have some fun before you have a little snooze, then we’ll head out to the party. I thought you’d appreciate a sleep after your flight,” she said whilst simultaneously trying to pop the top off her tube of Smarties.

  “Sounds good to me,” he agreed, munching on his food, popping his sunglasses on and resting his head back on the headrest. “So where’s your party?” he continued, turning his head towards her, wiping his mouth with the napkin.

  “A nightclub at one of the big hotels on the beach. My friend Melina has made all the arrangements. Speaking of whom—” She paused and looked over at James briefly, hoping the guilt wasn’t obvious on her face.

  “What? What did you do, Pip?” he yelled, making his voice heard over the wind
and crashing ocean and raising his sunglasses to the top of his head, presumably so she could see his suspicious glare.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Nothing much,” she mumbled, her mouth now full of Smarties. “Just helping to speed up the natural course of events. You’re only here for a couple of days and I know you two will like each other so—” she waved her arm in a knowing gesture “—I told her to meet us at the pool. She lives in the same apartment complex. How convenient is that, hey? It’s like fate or something,” she joked.

  Once she saw James’s coy smile and slow shake of the head, she knew he wasn’t mad at her. He dropped his shades back down and propped his arm on the car’s door frame. Job done, she thought, pleased with herself. James and Melina would only have to set eyes on each other and bam, the chemistry would be there immediately, sparks would fly, no messing around. If only her own love life were so simple to fix…

  Before James could ask any more questions, Pip turned on her iPod connected to the car’s stereo system. Not bothering to try to secure her once-again wayward hair, she sang along to Bob Marley.

  She chose to ignore the rib from James about her singing not improving. Nothing could blight her good mood.

  ***

  Jumal cursed as he simultaneously tried to rinse shampoo out of his eyes, fumble to shut off the shower and reach for his ringing mobile phone he’d set on a towel on the marbled vanity.

  He managed to answer it, still blinded, before it went to answerphone. He held it in the crook of his neck whilst grabbing the towel to wrap around his hips and dabbing water in his eyes from the sink. Whoever said men couldn’t multitask hadn’t met him.

  “Hey Malik, yeah.”

  “Oh hey, yeah it’s me, erm, so you know you told me to keep an eye on Pip and call you if I thought you needed to be here for any reason whatsoever?”

  “Yeah. Ow shit,” he cursed again. How the hell could this stuff sting so much?!

  “Well. I think you should come on down.”

  “Is she okay?” he asked, trying to keep calm. Christ what if she needed to get to a hospital or something? He could barely open his eyes.

  “Yeah. She’s fine but put it this way: she could head straight to the beach and she’d still be underdressed and er, she’s getting quite a lot of attention.”

  “What the hell does that mean? You know what, never mind. I’m on my way. Just don’t let her out of your sight,” he growled.

  He ended the call, abruptly cutting off his friend in his rush to dress and get to Pippa.

  ***

  “Where is she?”

  Jumal followed Malik’s nod towards the packed dance floor. Jumal craned his neck and shielded his eyes from the glare and dazzle of the disco lights but was still not able to see her.

  Suddenly, the crowds parted like the Red Sea.

  “Holy mother of Allah. Is that…?”

  “Yep,” Malik acknowledged loudly before throwing back the shot he was nursing.

  “Why the hell didn’t you call me sooner?” he challenged whilst tracking Pippa’s stroll towards them.

  “Hey, Jumal, you came!” she yelled at him over the bass of the music before turning her attention from him. “Malik, you ready to dance with me yet? You promised.” She popped her hip and pouted.

  Jumal didn’t move his eyes from Pippa as he placed a restraining hand on his friends arm, knowing his friend would understand his message loud and clear. Malik cleared his throat. “Right well erm, I think I’ll go and get us a drink,” he said motioning his thumb behind his shoulder towards the bar. “Save me a dance for later, birthday girl.”

  Jumal thought he caught Malik saying something along the lines of him needing luck as he walked past him to the bar.

  “Brilliant fancy dress, Jumal,” she teased. “You’ve got the whole ‘tight-arsed, control freak, big boss man slash relaxed Friday night combo’ down to a tee.” He watched tight-lipped as she waved her hand judgementally as his clothes.

  He scowled at her. “And what the hell have you come as? A Victoria’s Secret model?” He inwardly winced. He hadn’t intended for his voice to be quite so aggressive.

  “Humph, isn’t it obvious? I’m Halle Berry from the James Bond film and James—” she turned and waved her arm randomly towards the dance floor “—has come as the man himself, although to be honest he didn’t have to make much of an effort, just put on a tux—handsome devil that he is. And,” she went on, “can you believe that he wouldn’t let me strap my diver’s knife to my thigh? Anyway,” she continued, as she punched his arm in what he presumed was supposed to be a friendly way but had a surprising amount of force to it, “get you, knowing about VS. There may just be hope for you yet.” She winked at him.

  “So what do you think?” she asked, as she gave him a twirl. “I pretty much nailed it, didn’t I? Well apart from the hair,” she said as she flicked the ends of her hair dismissively over her shoulder. “Couldn’t do much about that with this mop, but my second attempt at applying a fake tan was much more successful. Don’t you think? Jumal?”

  “Huh, what?” Crap he’d been caught ogling. Again. “Come on, I think it’s time I took you home,” he told her, holding out his hand.

  “What?” she shrieked at him and he automatically dropped his hand. “Are you kidding? It’s my birthday, well my party anyway and I’m not ready to go home, not for a long time.” He knew it wasn’t her birthday for a few days yet. She surprised him by taking hold of his hand and gently urging him forward. “Come and dance with me and then you can keep a proper eye on me like I know my brother told you to.”

  Jumal was pleased that she was making her own assumptions about his turning up at her birthday party. For once, it worked in his favour.

  “I don’t dance,” he said sharply, shaking his head.

  She dropped her hand from his and strangely he missed the comforting contact. He wasn’t a “hand-holding” kind of person, even with his family or Faridah. “You’re kidding?” She put her hands on her hips and tilted her head to the side. God she was beautifully annoying.

  “As you have told me on numerous occasions, I don’t have a sense of humour when it comes to you,” he replied, straight-faced.

  “Fine, you can just stand like a sulking Muppet and I’ll dance around you like a bloody maypole.” And she was off again, twirling around him whilst holding his shoulders as he kept his focus straight ahead, fighting the need and desire to track her every movement.

  “A what?” he asked, when she finally came to a stop.

  “Oh never mind.” She sulked again with her hands on her hips. Was she aware that the action caused her perfectly sized breasts to jut out even further? “It’s just as I thought,” she ranted at him.

  “What is?” he asked, impatiently. The girl spoke in riddles.

  “You’re too old to have fun. You act like an old fart. I can’t believe that I—” she waved her arms dismissively at him “—never mind. Your loss.” And with that she was off, leaving him standing there in the wake of Hurricane Halle, his mouth hanging open like a fish—or to use her earlier phrase, a Muppet.

  He tracked her movements again as she laughed and joked with her friends at their table and finished off a long dark drink before she made her way back to the dance floor.

  “She didn’t manage to get you dancing then?” Malik enquired as he handed him another beer and took up position at his side.

  “Not a chance,” he replied, taking a long swig. He surveyed Malik and shook his head. “So what the hell have you come as and why didn’t you tell me it was fancy dress?”

  “Me? Well I’m the American President.”

  Jumal looked him up and down and gave him a puzzled look. “Which one?” he asked.

  “Any. See, I’m wearing the little stars-and-stripes pin on my suit jacket.” He turned to show him the pin.

  Jumal couldn’t help but chuckle. “That has got to be the worst fancy dress I have ever seen,” he teased, smiling.

  “H
ey, I have a slave driver for a boss and I was at work till late on a deal that’s going to get him in next year’s Forbes richest list. This was the best I could come up with. I thought it was inspired when I saw the pin in my desk drawer. Melina brought it back from her trip to New York last year. And I did try to tell you it was fancy dress but you hung up on me cursing, so—”

  Their heads turned in unison towards the shrieks of delight coming from the dance floor as someone appeared to be trying their hand at breakdancing. Jumal had never understood the appeal of spinning on one’s head but then again, as Miss Darling had so eloquently put it, he was an old fart…and right now, yeah, he felt like one.

  Chapter Four

  Jumal glimpsed occasional flashes of orange on the dance floor but despite being a couple of inches over six foot he couldn’t quite see over all the bobbing heads and writhing and gyrating bodies. Where the hell has she gone? he thought, as he was forced to stand on tiptoe—a fact that grated on him no end.

  “Who the hell is that guy?” he growled at Malik, having finally spotted her.

  “Which guy?” Malik asked, trying to see through the human medley.

  “Which guy?” Jumal repeated incredulously. “That one,” he shouted, pointing, “with his hands all over Pippa.”

  “Ah right, that guy. Yeah well he’s the reason I called. Well one of the reasons, the other being I know you promised her brother when she came out here that you’d look after her and I have a feeling the night is going to get riotous quickly.” Jumal scowled as Malik took another swig on his bottle as if needing it for confidence. “Well anyway, she came with him.”

  “She came with him,” Jumal repeated in disbelief. “What do you mean?” he asked, unable to stop his voice from rising. Oh this just got better. Not. He raked his hand through his hair. The bloody girl was going to make him go bald if he kept having this reaction to her youthful escapades.

  “Just that, well actually she came with two men; one is a tall handsome blond bastard who seemed far too comfortable with his arm around Melina. I can’t see them anywhere.”