by Lena Dowling
Was it worth the risk to her career? Sydney’s most eligible bachelor and improving the lives of hundreds of vulnerable people into the bargain. It was a crazy thought and Georgia buried it almost as fast as it had popped into her head.
Chapter Five
After a couple of days in her new spot, Georgia decided being back in the open-plan wasn’t quite so bad after all. With Miriam’s workstation right beside hers, she could monitor her secretary’s workload, and get instantaneous assistance. When she was hidden away in an office, although she hadn’t realised it at the time, she had actually missed the camaraderie of the other solicitors.
Her workstation was at one hundred and eighty degrees to her old office, so she didn’t have the distraction of being able to see Brad coming and going. The few times she had run into him, she had seen him well in advance. She had been able to collect herself and appear cool and calm by the time they were within comfortable conversing distance. Reminding herself that she was still annoyed with him for his behaviour the night of the party had also helped some in keeping her pulse-racing, stomach-churning responses to him in check.
She hadn’t mentioned the Walsh matter again, and neither had Brad. In any case, she had helped him out with Caro, pretending she and Brad were an item to save his weekend being turned over to social event planning. She hoped that made them even.
By far Georgia’s most pressing concern was her review of the list of assets that Douglas Walsh’s new solicitor had provided. The house in the prestigious eastern suburb of Rose Bay had been itemised, as were numerous personal investments, and a significant antique collection. Once she got into the fine detail of Douglas’s business interests, however, the profits, while not insignificant, just didn’t add up to a level that would maintain the Walsh’s lifestyle. In fact, flicking back through the mortgage documents, she calculated that Douglas’s income barely covered the loan against their multimillion dollar home. There had to be more.
She was making a mental note to search the official company register to turn up any undisclosed directorships or significant shareholdings when her phone rang.
The caller display flashed up ‘Georgia’.
Her pulse quickened. Until the firm’s telecommunications officer got around to reprogramming the phones, ‘Georgia’ meant Brad.
‘Hi Brad,’ she said, keeping her tone light and trying to sound casual and unaffected, even though the unexpected call had put her nerves on edge.
‘Georgia, have you got a few minutes to go over a file?’
‘Sure.’
She walked at a steady pace, smoothing her skirt and pulling at the cuffs of her jacket. By the time she walked into his office, he had already moved from behind his desk to a round table used for impromptu meetings and taking instructions from clients. His tie was missing. It was coiled up beside his in-basket. His shirtsleeves were rolled back revealing forearms sprinkled with dark hair that she remembered as silky soft to the touch. The brilliant gold of his watch caught and held her eye, and he followed her gaze.
‘A gift from my mother — not my taste.’
He tilted the dial to reveal diamonds studded around the circumference that would have dwarfed many women’s engagement stones.
‘My mother likes her bling.’
‘And then some,’ she said. The over the top display of wealth set Georgia’s stomach turning in the opposite direction to which it had been spinning ever since he called her into his office, tying it into a knot.
‘Well, she deserves to spend a little after everything she put up with from Dad over the years.’
‘What’d he do? Sleep with the secretary?’
‘Several, actually.’
‘Oh.’
She had meant it as a joke, and now she should probably say something sympathetic. But since the only thing springing to mind was a sarcastic: ‘How tough it must have been for you’, she said nothing.
Brad passed her a file. Recognising the client name, she seized the opportunity to change the subject.
‘Buckland? As in the Pete Buckland from Buckland’s Chance?’
‘That’s him. His wife Cherie has given instructions to start separation proceedings again.’
‘Again?’ Georgia couldn’t remember having seen anything in the papers about previous estrangements.
‘So far, he’s been discreet enough to keep it away from the paps, but it’s becoming a regular thing. He gets cosy with one of the contestants or a co-worker; then Cherie finds out. Pete spends a few nights at a hotel, promises never to do it again, and wins her back. I wouldn’t hurry to do any work on it though. Give it a few days in case the whole thing blows over.’
‘So why give it to me at all?’
If this was the quality of the matters he would be sending her way, he could keep them. This wasn’t even a real case. At best it was a potential. Nevertheless, with such a high profile couple, curiosity got the better of her and she opened the file, scanning the documents inside.
‘I’ve given it to you now so that you’ll have all the background information on the off-chance that this is the broad that breaks Buckland’s back and Cherie finally decides to take hold of her she-balls. There’s a list of assets on file from last time in there that will help, but you’ll need to check that it’s still current.
‘I can’t believe she would forgive him!’
Georgia would never understand women who let men treat them like a doormat. Her mother had been used and abused by her numerous deadbeat boyfriends, bludging off the higher social welfare benefit she was entitled to because she had a child. Extra money that should have been used to provide for Georgia, but more often than not subsidised her and her loser boyfriends’ drug habits.
‘Money papers over some deep cracks. She’s got two kids and a lifestyle she wants to protect. I’ve never been able to understand why Pete does it. Cherie’s a stunner. But when all is said and done, Buckland’s a complete swine when it comes to women.’
Brad Spencer, with a reputation as something of a player himself, describing one with an equally colourful reputation as a pig? It seemed a bit hypocritical.
‘What about you?’ she said, before she stopped to think.
Brad’s expression turned serious and Georgia tensed, ready for a negative reaction.
But instead, he laughed, a musical chuckle that sent a flood of warmth up through her middle.
‘Well, I might be able to give Pete a run for his money in terms of numbers, but unlike Buckland I can only handle one woman at a time. Serial monogamy is more my style.
Brad and monogamy — a one-woman-man.
There was an image she didn’t need. She snapped the file closed and stood up, meaning to leave.
Where was this coming from? A moment ago she would have been prepared to swear that she had working with Brad under control, and now her involuntary reactions and the inappropriate thoughts popping into her head meant she wasn’t so sure.
‘Before you go, Georgia, there’s another thing. It wasn’t a total lie when I told Caro we’d be at my shack next weekend. I thought with the two of us both being new to the partnership, we should have an executive strategy session. You know, one of those corporate love-ins that are so fashionable these days. I was thinking we could break out of the office and make a weekend of it with an overnight at my place up the coast. I’ve already run it past Dayton and Llewellyn who thought it was a marvellous idea and want to bring their wives. You are welcome to bring a plus-one too, by the way.’
The words love-in and overnight brought the return of an odd sensation to her stomach for a few seconds, until it sagged inwards at the suggestion that she might like to bring a date.
What had she been thinking? Of course Brad would have moved on after their fling. By offering her the opportunity to bring someone along, he was leaving the field wide open for him to do likewise.
She registered a small but real disappointment.
Get it together, Georgia.
Even be
fore she knew he had joined the firm she had never wanted Brad Spencer with his celebrity clients, penthouse apartment and diamond encrusted lifestyle. Sure he was good-looking; okay, he was extremely good-looking. There was no getting around it, the mere sight of him had the ability to significantly reduce the stability of her legs, but he was forbidden territory, and if he hadn’t been off limits with all his money and privilege before he entered the partnership, he definitely was now. Of course he would pursue other relationships, and if she knew what was good for her, she would keep her mind focused on her work.
At least the appearance of another woman on the scene would effectively shut down the nagging little voice that had been piping up to make dangerous suggestions ever since Caro suggested she was cultivating Brad to support the addiction centre.
Stop it.
Georgia forced her mind back to professional matters.
‘About the Walsh matter — I’ve got the feeling I’m not getting the full picture of Douglas’s business interests from his new solicitor.
Brad’s expression deepened, furrows forming across his forehead.
‘You know I can’t help you with that Georgia. Douglas might have fired me, but I still owe him a duty of confidentiality for information disclosed in the context of our solicitor-client relationship.’
Georgia resisted the urge to pout. Sure, Brad was constrained, but he could at least give her a clue.
‘But we act for Ruby now. Can’t you just give me a hint where his money is tied up?’
‘No buts, Georgia. Douglas is a hard-headed businessman and I’m sure he is quite capable of being obstructive. It wouldn’t surprise me if he has deliberately understated his assets, but you need to find another way to get that information.’
‘Okay.’ She said it grudgingly, but she was at least a little bit pleased that Brad had proved ethical, and beyond indulging in behaviour ‘unbecoming of a solicitor’.
Unbecoming behaviour. Don’t think about it.
Too late.
She grasped her top button and fanned herself with the top of her blouse.
Brad cocked an eyebrow.
‘Too warm in here?’
His lips turned up in a half smile and she could have sworn there was a glint in his eye.
That was all she needed; Brad thinking she was hot for him.
‘A little. The aircon mustn’t be working properly.’
‘Hmm, seems okay in here to me,’ Brad said absently, turning his attention to his in-tray, swivelling backwards to pull a file out, and then placing it back down on the meeting table as if he were about to wrap up the conversation and return to his own work. ‘Well that’s everything I have. Unless there’s anything else you want to raise with me, then I guess I’ll see you at the sleepover, Georgia.’
Sleepover.
The word sent her mind hurtling backwards, sweeping her up, and laying her down on his obscenely large bed.
That evening, Brad poured himself a glass of his favourite pinot and settled in to do the mountain of paperwork that Spencer Corp’s company secretary had sent over, but his mind was not on the documents in front of him.
After calling Georgia into his office earlier that afternoon and taking the first tentative step towards passing over some of his excess files, he had watched her return to her desk through the glass panel in his office wall. The woman’s perfect figure, and the way her hips moved as she walked, had done terrible things to his guts — wrenching up memories. Now that they were working together those memories were turning up often, uninvited, and goading him to take inappropriate action.
Not that he would.
He would keep his hands off her. But the more he saw of Georgia, the more he began to think that it couldn’t hurt to create opportunities where she might be induced to take matters into her own hands.
Georgia wasn’t easy to read which, since he had run into her at the Dockton Women’s Shelter, he now presumed was a product of her past. Growing up in a rough neighbourhood at least explained the cactus-like reactions she had to his family’s wealth, and the need to keep her head down and out of trouble had no doubt taught her to keep up that poker face of hers.
But whenever he complimented her on her work her face coloured up just a little, and the corners of her mouth twitched upwards slightly like she was trying not to show she was pleased. On that first day at the office when he suggested that they keep their professional life separate from whatever was going on between them, she hadn’t denied that something was going on. Nor, for that matter, was his office overly hot. If anything, it was an icebox. He had complained about the poorly placed aircon vent right above his meeting table a couple of times since he had moved in to his new office.
Gathering those pieces of circumstantial evidence together, and despite the rather frosty reception she had given him over losing her office, he was confident that Georgia’s initial attraction, the one that had persuaded her to accompany him up to his penthouse, was still there.
Covered up with professional concerns maybe, but still there.
All in all it was a good start. Now he just had to organise this strategy weekend in a way that would create the sort of opportunity he had in mind.
Giving Caro the impression that they would be spending the weekend together had been a spur of the moment decision. The way Caro had spoken to Georgia at the shelter — he couldn’t understand it. Caro was in no position to come over all superior when it came to less than salubrious family circumstances. He had been tempted to put Caro in her place, but he doubted Georgia would thank him for it. She had managed Caro very well on her own, using her presence at the board meeting to get what was obviously her own item on to the agenda.
Caro had shut her down, but not before everyone on the committee got to hear Georgia’s idea. Georgia was impressive, and not just in ways that he felt squarely in the men’s hosiery department every time he got within a few feet of her.
‘Bad day, sir?
Brad set his wine glass down on the desk.
‘You could say that, Jeffrey. More like a bad week, and I can see that with this extra Charitable Trust work, I’m going to get bogged down if I’m not careful. Caro Marsden is banging on about organising a gala fundraiser of all things, and yesterday I lost my biggest client. Not just a family client, either. I managed most of his commercial affairs as well.’
He only had himself to blame. He had been fresh out of law school when he had drafted Douglas’ prenup and he had dropped the ball. He should never have relied on his client to ensure that the execution of the document was handled properly. He should have followed up and checked his copy of the final document before it was filed away. As a small but successful player in the mining and gemstone industries, Douglas’s commercial affairs were not insubstantial, and it would be quite a blow to Brad’s fee earning contribution until he found a client or clients of similar net worth to replace him. Not that the lost income would make much of an impact on him; compared to the income he derived from his majority shareholding of Spencer Corp it was pretty much pocket money, but it would be an unpleasant surprise for Dayton and Llewellyn.
He had to hand it to her, though; Georgia was an excellent lawyer. He was the one who had gone too far telling Ruby she had no case, and Georgia had put things right. Another lawyer might have kept what she had seen to herself. It was in Georgia’s best interests for the firm to do well, and Ruby’s business was nothing compared to her husband’s.
It wasn’t the first time he had been impressed by Georgia’s work. In the few days since joining the firm there had been plenty of opportunity to see her in action, and she was good at her job; technically competent, and good with clients. She also had a solid list of active files. Taking the Spencer family contacts out of the equation, he wasn’t sure he could have amassed such an impressive client base at the same stage of his career.
It was a shame all he could think about was putting the partnership at risk by enticing Georgia back into his bed.
Brad dragged his attention away from the endlessly fascinating Ms Murray and picked up his glass again, taking a decent swig.
‘Damn, I was hoping I could put off dealing with that until things had quietened down at the firm.’
While he always enjoyed a trip out to Samoa, flying over to Upolu, the island on which the Spencer resort was situated, was time out of his schedule he couldn’t afford.
‘One thing I could help with, sir, would be the gala. I wouldn’t like to detract from your mother’s overseeing of the event, but I have had rather a lot of input into Evelyn’s contribution in the past.’
Tactful as ever.
In other words, Jeffrey organised the gala and his mother took the credit.
‘Would you, Jeffrey?’
‘Of course, sir, it would be my pleasure. While we’re speaking of entertaining, sir, about this strategy thing you emailed your instructions for. Are you sure you want me to buy all the salads and desserts in from a s-supermarket?’ Jeffrey stuttered, struggling to enunciate the word. ‘Wouldn’t you prefer me to order in from Castlereagh’s Foodhall?’ Jeffrey paused, clearly hoping for a contradiction in his initial instructions, but Brad was silent, determined not to be swayed. ‘So you’re also firm on there being no wine over fifty dollars a bottle and barbequing the meat yourself then, I take it?’
‘Yes, that about sums it up, Jeffrey.’
‘But why stop there, sir, why not go for paper plates, plastic cutlery, and wine that comes in cardboard box?’
Brad was taken aback by Jeffrey’s rare display of rebellion.
‘I think that would be going a bit too far to be believable, don’t you?’
‘Believable? So there is someone you are trying to convince, a philistine perhaps?’
Jeffrey had the nose of a bloodhound. He had always been able to sniff out Brad’s schemes, and seemingly nothing had changed.