‘Where would you have gone?’ he asked curiously. ‘I would have associated you a few weeks ago with somewhere on the French Riviera, close to a few nightclubs, but perhaps I misread you completely.’
Beth shrugged non-committally. She didn’t like this sudden digression on to personal topics. There could be a lot of unexpected traps here. For a start, she didn’t know what Laura had told him about herself, if anything, and he wasn’t likely to dismiss another slip-up like the coffee. He was altogether too shrewd. His clever, calculating mind probably stored information that most normal people would forget within seconds. Stored it and had it quite handy to recall at a moment’s notice.
‘I’ve never been to the French Riviera,’ Beth finally volunteered, as he continued to look at her from under his dark lashes. ‘And I’ve never felt any particular wish to go, if you must know. In fact, I haven’t done a great deal of travelling at all.’
‘But you’d like to?’ he prompted.
Beth fidgeted uncomfortably. She didn’t like this. She was sure that he couldn’t give two hoots whether she hated the idea of planes, or else saved madly to go on one. Laura had said that he barely noticed her except in her capacity as secretary. So why the sudden interest now? She wondered whether he suspected something odd, a little thought hovering somewhere at the back of his mind. A little thought that he was beginning to explore.
‘Wouldn’t everyone?’ she answered distantly.
‘No. I personally have seen enough of airports to last me a lifetime. Hotel life, you know, outstays its welcome very quickly.’
‘Does it? I wouldn’t know. Anyway, I’ll make you a fresh cup of coffee now, if you like.’
‘Why,’ he drawled, ‘do I get the impression that you’re eager to get out of my company?’
His words, for reasons that she couldn’t fathom, sent a hot flood of colour to her cheeks. Or maybe it was the way he had spoken them, in that lazy, slightly speculative voice.
Whatever, there was no answer to that question and she left the office quickly, only realising how tense she had been when she exhaled her breath deeply in the safety of her own room.
By the time she re-entered his office she was perfectly in control of her senses once again, and the cup of coffee was precisely how he liked it.
He began to talk to her about work and she breathed a sigh of relief. When he talked about work, she was on relatively safe ground.
As she was leaving his office, she turned around and said on the spur of the moment, ‘Do you remember what you said to me about getting bored of hotel life very quickly?’
He looked up from his paperwork and nodded.
‘Well,’ Beth continued awkwardly, ‘it’s just a thought, but these projects in St Lucia and Santo Domingo—you could try and make them places that would never outstay their welcome.’
He looked at her assessingly.
‘Any suggestions?’
Beth laughed genuinely. ‘None at all. Don’t forget I’m inexperienced enough to find any sort of hotel life quite a novelty.’
He looked as though he was about to say something, but when he finally did it was only to inform her briskly that she could apply herself to giving the matter some thought, then he returned to his paperwork.
Effective dismissal, Beth thought, letting herself out, but she felt suddenly invigorated.
She was absorbed in reading one of the folders on St Lucia when the outside door to her office opened. But it wasn’t Marian, who normally peeped in with files or reports for Marcos.
This woman she had never seen before.
‘Can I help you?’ Beth asked, wondering how she had managed to bypass the usual security checks and make her way successfully to the top floor.
‘Is Marcos around?’ The woman smiled politely. She was very poised, every strand of blonde hair neatly tucked into a sophisticated chignon at the back of her neck.
‘Who may I say is asking?’
‘Oh, don’t bother to announce me,’ she said quickly, ‘I’ll let myself in.’
Before Beth could do anything to stop her, the woman had made her way to the connecting door, and Beth could just see Marcos’s dark head look up, then the door was very firmly closed.
She returned to her work, but her mind was seething with questions.
Finally, and with a feeling of ridiculous surreptitiousness, she called Laura at her workplace, and said without preamble, ‘A blonde woman just walked into Marcos’s office. She didn’t tell me who she was. Am I supposed to know?’
‘Blonde?’ Laura asked. ‘Very leggy and very glamorous? Probably wearing silk or cashmere?’
‘That’s the one.’ The woman had been dressed in a pale pink cashmere suit with a strand of pearls around her neck, and they didn’t look like the synthetic stuff either.
‘Remember I told you that Marcos is quite something with the women?’
‘Yes,’ Beth answered.
‘Well, that’s one of them. Angela Fordyce.’ She groaned down the phone. ‘He finished with her about three weeks ago, and under no circumstances were you supposed to let her in to see him!’
CHAPTER THREE
BETH TRIED TO SUMMON UP the feeling of bravado she had had the previous day when she had resolutely decided that Marcos could handle his own damned personal life.
But sitting here, in front of her computer, her eyes flitting warily across to the connecting door, it was difficult.
She had already been subjected to his cold anger and it was something she had no desire to experience again.
She frowned at the file she had been poring over a minute before, but the words were just a jumble of black and white. Eventually she gave up.
She could, she thought, leave for home. It was already half-past five. She chewed her lip, glanced across at the door again and remained undecidedly rooted to her chair for another half an hour.
This is ridiculous, she finally decided. Hovering about here like some sort of criminal waiting to stand before the judge.
She stacked her papers away and unhooked her coat from the coat-stand. Now that she had decided to leave, her feet couldn’t move fast enough, and by the time she made it to the ground floor she was positively churning with tension.
She only managed to regain some of her equilibrium on the Underground back to the flat, but even when she was safely indoors she found that she was plagued by the same sense of apprehension.
More alarmingly, her mind was fizzing over with questions that she knew shouldn’t concern her at all.
Was that the type of woman he fancied? Tall and blonde and with the sort of impeccable good looks that spoke of hours painstakingly spent in front of the mirror? Angela Fordyce, she found herself thinking uncharitably, didn’t look as though her brain had ever taxed itself with anything more complicated than whether her colour scheme for the day matched.
Not that it was any concern of hers anyway. The man was infinitely dislikeable, someone who constantly seemed to rub her up the wrong way. He was welcome to his following of leggy blondes. Peculiar though it might seen, they probably suited him. Men whose work lives ran on constant pressure no doubt found the company of brainless bimbos relaxing. They could unwind without the tiring obligation of actually having to respond to any manner of intelligent conversation.
She switched on the television, laughing at her line of thought. Am I really so bitchy? she wondered. She had never been before.
She had changed into a pair of tight jeans and a loose sweater and she had a sudden, unwelcome image of herself standing next to Angela Fordyce, her short bob hardly the most glamorous hairstyle in the world, her face bereft of any make-up, her feet inelegantly clad in a pair of thick woollen socks to stave off the cold.
With a little frown she shoved the image to the back of her mind and settled down to follow the detective movie. She liked detective movies. Something about them appealed to the logical processes in her brain. That was probably why she enjoyed the mathematical precision of her acc
ountancy course. There was no room for emotive flights in an accountancy course. Things made sense with it. Two and two always added up to four.
Her mother once told her that it was a trait that she must have inherited from her father. He had possessed a fine mind, a mind that had enjoyed the precision of logic.
Laura, she had said, took after her. They were both volatile and emotional. Two and two, with a generous helping of imagination, sometimes added up to five.
Why, Beth thought pensively, had she suddenly remembered that? Was it because her cool, reasonable approach to life had recently been less reliable? Odd.
She refocused her attention on the small screen and was once again absorbed in various premutations of theory being volunteered by the chief detective, when there was a sharp knocking on the door.
She reluctantly got up, wondering who on earth it could be. Were there such things as door-to-door salesmen in London? Or maybe it was Katie. She had been meaning to get in touch with Katie, but hadn’t found the time so far.
She pulled open the door and her body tensed immediately.
‘Oh,’ she said, simply because she couldn’t find anything better to say, ‘it’s you.’
‘Surprised?’ Marcos walked past her into the small lounge, making no apology for his appearance even though it was after ten o’clock.
He stood in the centre of the room and stared with blatant curiosity around him.
Beth felt her hackles begin to rise.
‘I thought only doctors paid home visits,’ she said pointedly, shutting the door behind her. She would have preferred to leave it open, so that he could get the message that she really didn’t want him in the flat, but it was simply too cold outside for that.
Now that the door was shut, she had a sudden feeling of choking claustrophobia.
‘Funny,’ he mused, ‘I would have expected your flat to have more of an imprint of your personality on it. It looks as though you only use it as a place to sleep.’
‘Have you come here for something specific?’ Beth asked, reasserting her presence. She moved to the chair furthest away from him and sat primly on it, leaning forward slightly, her arms folded across her chest.
She was aware of her heart beating quickly and heavily. What was he doing here? He had obviously just come from work, he was still wearing his suit, although that didn’t exactly speak volumes, did it? She had left him at the office with Angela; who knows what they had got up to? He might have finished with her, but men, she knew, were very susceptible to a beautiful and willing woman, even a beautiful and willing woman who had gone past her sell-by date.
‘Why did you let her into the office?’ He looked at her through half-closed eyes.
‘What?’
‘You heard. Angela. Why did you let her into my office when I expressly told you not to?’
Oh, so this is it, she thought. He couldn’t even have the courtesy to wait until the morning before venting his anger.
She felt a stab of indignation. Some of that bravado that had eluded her earlier on was returning.
‘I could hardly put her under civil arrest just because she wanted to see you, could I?’
‘You could have told her that I was out,’ he said forcefully. ‘Or ill, or in a meeting. The list of excuses is endless. You’ve always managed to handle that sort of situation before.’
‘Have I indeed?’ So it was one of her unofficial duties, and one which her sister had happily complied with. Well, she had no intention of following suit.
‘Yes, you damn well have,’ he snapped.
‘Well, as a matter of fact,’ Beth informed him calmly, ‘I don’t see why I have to handle your personal life for you.’
‘What?’ he roared. He stood up and began pacing the room, running his fingers through his hair. Beth watched him without moving, fascinated. It was an effort to finally drag her eyes away and sternly remind herself of all those qualities he possessed which she thoroughly disliked.
‘I said—’
‘I heard what you said the first time.’
‘Then, there’s no problem, is there?’
‘There damn well is! I don’t like the implied criticism in your voice one bit! Have you forgotten that you’re my secretary?’
This was quite a different sort of anger from the icy anger he had shown her when she had first arrived at the office. This was more like a thunderous rage.
Beth didn’t see any reason why she should bend under its impact when he was exercising it in her flat. Or rather her sister’s flat. Whatever.
‘I’ve decided that my duties stop with my work,’ she stated in a voice that was far more controlled than she actually felt.
‘Oh, you’ve decided, have you?’ Marcos asked smoothly. ‘And since when? Since that overhaul you had on your week off? That damn sister of yours has a lot to answer for.’
Doesn’t she just? Beth thought.
He paced across to where she was sitting, and before she could take defensive measures leaned over her, his hands gripping either side of her chair.
Beth felt herself automatically flinch back. This was way too close for comfort. He was making her giddy; something about his nearness overwhelmed her. It was almost an effort to breathe normally.
‘I…’ she began, then her mouth seemed to dry up and she found that she couldn’t complete the sentence.
‘I know what you think,’ he said grimly, overriding anything she might have had to say. ‘You’ve suddenly decided that it’s all right to start passing moral judgements on my personal life.’
‘I haven’t decided any such thing,’ she muttered weakly. She just wanted him to go away, now, even if it was only to another part of the room. He was too close, his arms only inches away from her breasts.
‘You damn well have,’ he shot back, his eyes glinting. ‘As far as I’m concerned this little self-righteous act of yours doesn’t cut any ice with me whatsoever. You’re hardly eligible for the horrified virgin act, are you?’
His words were carefully placed. Without thinking, Beth raised her hand and slapped him angrily across the cheek, watching in horror as his face swivelled under the impact.
The hooded black eyes met hers with a gleam.
‘That certainly hit home, didn’t it?’ he said softly.
‘You’re despicable.’
‘At least I don’t pretend to be what I’m not.’
His words, unthinkingly, were so accurate that Beth felt her face blanch.
‘You’ve been sleeping around with Ryan and God knows how many other men, and you actually have the nerve to silently criticise me!’
There was no answer to that one.
‘Moreover,’ he continued, still leaning over her, stifling her with his proximity, ‘I damn well ought to give you the sack for what you’ve just done.’
‘Why don’t you?’ Beth challenged, throwing caution to the winds.
‘God knows,’ he muttered, standing up. She released her breath slowly as he moved away to stand next to the window.
She had saved Laura’s job, if only by the skin of her teeth, and the thought should have made her feel elated, but it didn’t. Something had changed, her control had slipped and that made her uneasy and a little bit frightened.
This was poetic justice, she thought, for having been stupid enough to take part in this monumental piece of deception in the first place.
‘The fact is—’ Marcos turned to face her ‘—I didn’t really come here to talk about Angela in the first place. She’s no longer part of my life anyway. No, I came here to ask you whether your passport’s in order.’
‘Pardon?’ Beth’s eyes opened wide. Things were moving way too fast for her liking.
‘Your passport—is it in order?’
She nodded. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Because you’re coming to St Lucia with me.’
‘I am?’ she squeaked, suddenly realising that for some reason she couldn’t fathom she didn’t want to do that at all.
‘Thursday? This Thursday morning?’ She knew that she must sound like a parrot, repeating everything he said, but their conversation was beginning to have an air of unreality about it.
‘You really should have that hearing problem seen to,’ he said sarcastically. ‘This Thursday. Yes. You should be able to make all the arrangements in a day. I’ll be out of the office.’ He paused significantly. ‘You said you wanted to travel, didn’t you?’ he drawled.
‘Yes, but…’ But not with you, she finished silently.
He was staring at her and he must have been reading her mind, because his next words were, ‘You can relax. You won’t be alone with me, not that I would have thought that you were intimidated by being thrown together with a member of the opposite sex. No, Jane will be coming with us.’
‘Jane?’ She decided to ignore his sarcastic remark at her expense. He could think what he liked of her from now on; she didn’t care.
‘Yes, Jane Morris,’ he said impatiently. ‘Marketing manager?’
‘Of course. Jane.’ The name rang a vague bell in her head now that she heard the surname. It must have been one of the names that Laura had mentioned when she had been filling her in on the company personnel.
‘And in case you get any ideas,’ he said, resuming his unnerving prowling around the room, ‘this is a business trip. I don’t intend to have to keep my eye on you.’
‘Why would you have to do that?’ Beth asked with genuine curiosity.
‘Because,’ he said, stopping to look down at her, ‘from what I’ve heard you’re not against, shall we say, promoting yourself at the first available opportunity?’
He smiled cynically and she had an irresistible urge to repeat her slap, but she controlled it. Instead she stared down at her fingers, not trusting herself to answer.
‘Not going to see me to the door?’ he asked, throwing his scarf around his neck.
Charade of the Heart Page 4