He now had a car to make. And it was an original Mini…
Mickey would come, she thought, and more. This project would be a magnet. Scott’s mates would come, as they had before the accident.
She was blinking back tears.
‘What’s wrong?’ William demanded, watching her face and clearly confounded.
She sniffed and tried desperately to think of something to say. Something to do rather than kiss him again, which seemed an entirely logical thing to do, but some germ of common sense was holding her back.
‘I…I wanted perfume,’ she managed, and her little brother stared at her as if she was out of her mind.
‘Perfume…when you could have these!’
‘They’re not very…girlie,’ she said and somehow she managed to sound doleful and Scott realised she was joking and grinned and hugged her. Which was amazing all by itself. How long since her seriously self-conscious brother had hugged?
‘I’ll let you drive my car,’ he offered, magnanimity at its finest. ‘Second drive after me, the minute I get it going.’
‘What an offer,’ she said and sniffed again and hugged him back and then smiled across at William through unshed tears.
‘Thank you, Santa,’ she said.
‘Think nothing of it,’ he said in a voice she didn’t recognise and then she thought, no, she did know what she was hearing.
Her normally businesslike boss was just a wee bit emotional himself.
It was time for milking. Letty and Meg milked because, ‘I’m not interfering with this, even if I have to milk the whole herd,’ Letty declared in wonder. Meg could only agree, for kids were arriving from everywhere. It seemed William had detoured past Mickey’s with their load-‘just to show him,’ Scott had told them, and Mickey had sent out word, and before they knew it a team of adolescents was unloading the heap of Mini jumble into the unused shed behind the dairy.
When milking was done Meg checked on Millicent-the little heifer was thankfully showing no signs of calving-then went to investigate. The teenagers were surrounded by Mini parts. William was under Letty’s car.
‘Sorry. I know I said I’d milk, but Letty assured me she could and someone had to supervise…’
Some supervision. All she could see of William was his legs. He was in his borrowed overalls again and his gumboots.
On the other side of the shed teenagers were happily dismantling the wreck, labelling pieces with Letty’s preserving stickers. She had a bunch of gloriously happy teenagers, and the guy who’d caused it all to happen was apologising. Meg stared down at her boss’s legs and thought she could totally understand where Letty’s proposal had come from.
And she’d never realised until now how sexy a pair of grease-covered legs could be.
‘So… So where did you learn mechanics?’ she managed.
‘I told you. Powering up my father’s golf cart.’ His voice was muffled, but she was aware of an undercurrent of contentment.
‘And the rest?’
‘My parents were away a lot. They had enough cars to warrant hiring a mechanic. He taught me.’
‘Nice guy,’ Meg said, deflected from thinking about legs-or almost. She thought instead of gossip she’d read about this man, about how appalling his parents sounded, how lonely his childhood must have been. ‘Did this mechanic have a name?’
‘Mr Himmel.’
‘Mr Himmel.’ She grimaced at the formality. ‘He called you Mr McMaster?’
‘Of course. Can you pass me under the tension wrench?’
‘Tension wrench?’
‘On the left with the blue handle.’
‘That’s a tension wrench?’
‘And you a dairy farmer and all.’
‘Dairy farmers aren’t necessarily mechanics. Plus I’m a commerce graduate. And a PA.’
‘Right, I forgot,’ he said, but absently, and she knew his attention was on whatever he needed the tension wrench for.
She watched his legs for a little. His attention was totally on the car.
She watched the boys for a little. Their attention was totally on the car.
Guys doing guy stuff.
Befuddled, she headed back to the dairy, where Letty was sluicing. They cleaned almost in silence but she was aware that Letty kept glancing at her.
‘What?’ Meg said at last, exasperated.
‘He’s lovely.’
‘So why are you looking at me?’ She sighed. ‘Anyway, he’s not lovely. He’s covered in grease.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘Okay, I do,’ she admitted. ‘But you know who he is, so you can stop looking at me like you think I should do something about it. He’s William McMaster, one of the wealthiest men on the planet. He’s my boss and I have one of the best jobs in the world. If you think I’m messing with it by thinking he’s lovely…’
‘I suppose it would mess with it,’ Letty said. ‘Falling for the boss…’
‘It’d be a disaster.’
‘I don’t know how you haven’t before.’
‘Because I’ve never seen him in overalls before.’
‘They do make a man look sexy,’ Letty said thoughtfully. ‘That and carrying a grease gun. My Jack was always attached to a grease gun. Mind, once I had to get the grease off his clothes the novelty pretty soon wore off.’ She sighed but then she brightened. ‘But times have changed. Domestic equality and all that. He could get his own grease off.’
‘You’re seriously suggesting William McMaster could do his own laundry?’ Meg even managed a chuckle. The idea merited a chuckle.
As was thinking of those legs, sticking out from under Letty’s car. As was thinking that William McMaster was sexy.
Legs or not, even if the man carries a grease gun, he’s still my boss, she told herself. A good servant knows her place. Just plaster that message across your box of hormones and leave it there.
They ate dinner on the run. The boys were in no hurry to go home. At dusk they took off, pack-like, whooping away on their bicycles, and Meg knew they’d be back first thing in the morning.
This was priceless.
Scott was almost asleep on his feet, but lit up almost as much as the Christmas tree in the sitting room. He fell into bed happier than she’d seen him for years.
Letty commandeered William to take him over to the shed to show her what he was doing with her car. Meg headed out behind the hay shed. Millicent was still doing little of interest, the small fawn and white cow chewing her cud and gazing placidly out at the fading sunset.
‘Mind if I share your sunset?’ she asked, and Millicent turned her huge bovine eyes on her and seemed to ask a question.
‘He’s only here until Monday. Then it’s back to normal,’ Meg said, as if Millicent really was asking the question. Only what was the question? And what was normal?
She hitched herself up on the fence and started sunset-gazing. But she wasn’t seeing sunset. ‘This is just a hiccup in our lives,’ she said out loud. ‘But it’s a great hiccup.’
She was under no illusion as to how big a deal this was. Ever since the accident Scotty’s mates had been drifting away. They were nice kids. They included him when they could, but increasingly he was off their radar.
Today they’d returned and they’d hated leaving. Here was a project designed to keep kids happy for months, if not years. A project with a working car at the end of it… A Mini. They’d be back and back and back.
And it was all down to William. William of the sexy legs. William of the sexy…everything.
And suddenly, inexplicably, she was tearing up. She sniffed and Millicent pushed her great wet nose under her arm as if in sympathy.
‘Yeah, you’d know about men,’ she retorted. ‘Of all the dumb blondes…’
‘Who’s a dumb blonde?’
She hadn’t heard him approach. He moved like a panther, she thought, startled. He was long and lithe and silent as the night. He leaned against her fence, and she had to hitch along a bit so
he could climb up and sit beside her.
‘Dumb blonde?’ he said again.
‘Meet Millicent,’ she said. ‘Dumb adolescent blonde.’
‘That not a kind thing to say about an obviously sweet cow.’
‘She’s oversexed,’ Meg said darkly, struggling not to react to the way his body brushed against hers. There was plenty of room. Why did he need to sit so close?
‘Really?’ It was William’s turn to sound startled.
‘Really.’
‘So how do you tell if a cow is oversexed?’
‘She got out of her paddock,’ she explained. ‘Not only did she get out, she got in again. We finally found her in our next door neighbour’s bull paddock. Now she’s pregnant and she’s too young to have babies but that’s what she’s having, any day now. Letty’s worried sick.’
‘What’s to worry about?’
‘We don’t know which bull it was.’
‘You don’t know which bull…’
‘It could have been one of three.’
‘You’re telling me she’s…loose?’ he demanded, and she giggled and swayed on her perch and he put a hand out to steady her. He shifted closer and held on around the waist, making sure she was secure. She waited for him to let her go-but he didn’t.
‘So tell me all,’ he demanded, and she thought, do you know what the feel of your arm around my waist is doing to me? Obviously not or it’d be gone in a flash.
Maybe she should tell him.
Or not.
She had to do something. She was getting close to melting here. ‘I think you’d better let me go-Mr McMaster,’ she managed, and he did. He shifted away a little, without comment, as if it meant nothing. As if holding her hadn’t caused him any sort of reaction. Nothing like the sizzle that had just jolted through her.
‘So are we waiting for the baby to be born so we can take DNA samples and enforce a paternity suit?’ he asked, and they were talking about Millicent. Of course they were.
‘Maybe not.’ She was totally discombobulated. It wasn’t just the feel of his arm. It was so much more. ‘I… one of the bulls is a Murray Grey.’
‘That’s bad?’
‘If you’re a Friesian crossed with a Jersey, it’s very bad. Have you ever met a Murray Grey?’
‘I can’t say I have.’
‘They’re about half Millicent’s size again. She’s still underdeveloped. If we’d found her straight away we could have done something, but she got out and we lost her and didn’t find her for ages. What must have happened was that she got out onto the road, wandered along happily, we suspect, looking for bulls because she’s that sort of girl. Whoever found her must have shooed her through the nearest gate to get her off the road-which, of course, happened to be Rod Palmer’s bull paddock. There was plenty of feed in the paddock. It’s hilly and mostly out of sight of the road and Rod lets his bulls be until he needs them. So Millicent might have been enjoying herself for quite a while. She certainly seemed content when Rod finally found her and called us.’
‘Uh-oh,’ he said. ‘So now?’
‘So now she’s in the house paddock while we wait for the birth. Signs are any day now. I hope to heaven she doesn’t drop over Christmas because there’s no way we’ll get a vet.’ Then a thought occurred and she eyed him with hope. ‘As well as cars… You didn’t have a houseful of pets you practised on when you were a kid as well?’ she enquired. ‘Maybe a cow or two, and a resident vet?’
‘Nary a goldfish.’
‘Not even a dog?’ she demanded, startled.
‘My family don’t do pets.’
‘But you like them.’
‘Just because I patted Killer…’
‘No, but you do. When we’re out on site… Every time we meet a dog you talk to it. You should have one.’
‘And leave him in my Manhattan apartment alone, for months at a time?’
‘You have staff. Is Mr Himmel still around?’
‘Long gone.’ That was said bleakly and she thought-don’t go there. She was pushing past anywhere that was her business. Move on.
But move on where? Move onto where she wanted to go?
Why not?
‘So…so do you need to go over to Jenny’s again later?’ she managed.
‘Jenny’s?’
‘Mickey’s. To make more phone calls.’
‘I rang Elinor while I was in Curalo.’
Elinor. First name. The word hung between them, loaded with unknowns.
Leave it, she thought, but then she thought if she was Letty she’d ask. She swung her legs against the fence rails and tried to look nonchalant. As if this was a lightweight question.
‘So the gossip rags haven’t caught up with Elinor?’
‘I hope they never do.’ It was said with such vehemence that she blinked.
‘Um…it’s serious then?’
He seemed disconcerted but then he shrugged. ‘You could say that.’
‘I’m sorry you’ll miss Christmas with her, then.’
‘I’m sorry, too.’ He swung himself down from the fence and she knew the question had messed with whatever calm he’d been feeling. ‘I believe I need to get that carburettor back in. Without it, we’re dependent on the tractor as emergency transport so I’m not going to bed before it’s in working order. It’s okay. Twenty minutes work, tops. I’m not being a martyr.’ He glanced down at his overalls and he smiled, with unmistakable all-boy satisfaction. ‘I haven’t looked this greasy since I was Scott’s age. It feels great.’
‘You are great,’ she said as he reached up and took her by the waist and lifted her down to join him. He should let her go. He didn’t.
‘So are you.’
Uh-oh.
Keep it light, she told herself. Keep it light. ‘If our office staff could see us now they’d have kittens,’ she managed.
‘Or a cameraman.’
The paparazzi. That was an appalling thought. She could see the headlines now: McMaster Trapped with Secretary in Rural Hideway… What would the unknown Elinor say if she saw such a headline?
‘Does Elinor know you’re stuck with me?’ He was still holding her. She should step away-but she didn’t.
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘She doesn’t mind?’
‘She’s upset for me. She knows I want to be home.’
For some reason that hurt, but she made herself respond. ‘That’s generous of Elinor.’
‘She’s a generous woman.’
What to say to that? And he was still holding her.
‘I…I need to go to bed,’ she managed and she tugged a little but still he didn’t release her.
‘Bed?’
‘In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s nine, which is the witching hour when milking starts at five.’
‘So you don’t look forward to your morning milk?’ he teased.
He was so close… She was having trouble making her voice work but she had to try. ‘Getting up at five… Ugh,’ she said. ‘But while I’m here it’s normal. For lots of people it’s normal. You get up at five to check on your trade indices all the time. You don’t mind.’
‘So what do you want to do at five?’
‘Sleep!’
He smiled, then put his head on one side, considering. ‘So why stay on here? You’re putting your life on hold for your little brother.’
‘I haven’t noticed much life-holding.’
‘Where’s the social life? When you work with me I demand twenty-four seven commitment. Then you come here and it seems the same. Milking from five to nine and milking from three to seven. Where’s time for Meg in that?’
He sounded concerned, and that disconcerted her. He’d never sounded concerned. Their relationship was businesslike.
It had to stay that way.
‘I have wild lunches,’ she told him.
‘Right.’ He was watching her in a way that disturbed her. As if he was trying to figure her out.
‘So…boyfriend?’ he asked
and she winced. Ouch. That’d do as far as personal questions went. He set his boundaries. She’d set hers.
‘That’s not your territory, Mr McMaster.’ She tugged back and this time he did let her go. She made to turn away but his next question stopped her.
‘Do you like working for me?’
That was an easy one. ‘I love it.’
‘Why?’
She hesitated. He was watching her in the fading light, and she knew her answer meant something to him.
‘It’s smart work,’ she said slowly. ‘I never know what my day’s going to hold. I need to use my brain, and I love it that you treat me like I can.’
‘Like you can what?’
‘Rise to any challenge.’ She managed a smile at that. ‘Except get you home for Christmas.’
He didn’t smile back. Silence. The sun had sunk well over the horizon and the light was disappearing fast. The night was warm and still. Millicent was right beside them by the fence, oozing the contentment of a soon-to-be mum who had everything she wanted in life.
Except she didn’t have her bull, Meg thought, and then thought what was she thinking? Her bull?
‘Bed,’ she said.
‘Sounds good,’ he said and she blushed and stepped away so fast she tripped on her own feet. He put out a hand to catch her but she staggered and grabbed the fence and maintained her distance.
‘Is there anything else you need?’ she asked, stammering.
‘I don’t believe so.’ He was laughing, she thought-not obviously, but there was laughter behind his eyes. ‘So do we have a date with a hundred cows at five in the morning?’
‘I can’t believe you offered to milk.’
‘It will be my pleasure.’
‘In lieu of the world’s trade indices.’
‘In lieu of trade indices.’ He hesitated. ‘I really don’t mind getting up early,’ he told her. ‘If you need to sleep… I wish I could milk them for you.’
He was serious.
‘Yeah, well, I do have some affection for the cows,’ she managed. ‘Though it’s a wonderful offer…’ She took a deep breath. ‘As was buying Scott the car. I’d like to pay.’
‘Get off your high horse, Jardine.’
‘It’s not my high horse, it’s my dignity,’ she said with as much dignity as she could muster. ‘By which I take it that you won’t let me. In which case I’m very, very grateful. So thank you, Mr McMaster, and goodnight.’
Christmas with her Boss Page 7