by Linda Miles
The next ten minutes were horrible. Driscoll at first couldn’t understand, then refused to believe she was serious. Worst of all, he sounded genuinely aggrieved that she had been so inconsiderate as to bring this up when he’d just had a terrible interview—even though the interview was one he’d made up.
Rachel argued drearily on, hampered by the fact that the one thing that might have convinced him—that she’d fallen in love with someone else—was the one thing she had to deny flat out. The only person she’d had the opportunity to meet for weeks was Grant. She shuddered to think what might happen if news got around that she’d fallen for him, especially now that Grant was so determined to behave like an adult. At last Driscoll ended the conversation, stating his intention of coming to see her as soon as his other commitments allowed.
For once Rachel was actually glad to spend her time outside doing her fieldwork. The recording of detailed observations forced her to concentrate, forced her to stop thinking constantly about Grant, and occasionally about Driscoll.
A week went by in which, surprisingly, she heard nothing from Driscoll. She also didn’t see much of Grant, who was spending a lot of time in his London office. She did see rather a lot of Olivia, who was finalising decoration of the private parts of the mansion.
Rachel kept her records in an office at Arrowmead. On average an hour of observation generated two to three hours’ work in the office identifying insects and unfamiliar plants before the final account of the day’s work could be written up. She kept hoping Grant would be there, but it seemed as though she was always running into the beautiful blonde girl instead.
Olivia was always beautifully groomed, while Rachel was usually knee-high in mud. Rachel knew which of the two she’d be impressed by if she were thinking of investing a couple of million or so. In spite of herself, she began to have doubts.
Maybe Grant had made the right choice. Maybe it was all for the best.
She was debating this for the fiftieth time when she bicycled up to the house one evening for William’s weekly feeding. Grant was supposed to be back today, she remembered. He must have a huge amount to catch up on; he’d probably be in his office.
Well, she resolved virtuously, she’d just have to try not to disturb him. Her mouth curved involuntarily as various enjoyable ways of disturbing Mr Mallett came to mind. She would be very, very good, she told herself, pedalling faster.
Considering that she’d promised herself not to disturb Grant, it was unreasonable to mind that it was unexpectedly hard to get the chance. Rachel knew she was being unreasonable, but she still glared at Driscoll, unexpectedly discovered reading in Reception, the way some women glared at spiders.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked impatiently.
‘I came to find you,’ he said simply.
His black hair was tidy, the horn-rimmed glasses severe. He looked reprovingly at Rachel through the glasses, with the air of Scientific Man gazing at Irrational Female.
‘You seemed a little overwrought when we spoke,’ he said. ‘Your aunt and uncle said you often didn’t get back until late. I thought it might be helpful, too, if I had a look at your results. So I came over here.’
Rachel didn’t much want a private talk with Driscoll, but it was better than one with an audience.
‘My results are just down the corridor,’ she said reluctantly. What if Grant had left by the time she’d finished with Driscoll? Well, she thought gloomily, best to get this over with. She led Driscoll to her tiny office.
The discussion was as bad as she’d feared. Driscoll was at first sceptical, then impatient, and at last bitterly reproachful.
‘You don’t seem to understand how much I’ve invested in our scientific partnership,’ he complained. ‘It’s practically impossible to say who did what work. Now I’ll have to stake out a completely new territory. You know what the job climate is like these days. That’s a luxury I really can’t afford.’
Rachel thought she wouldn’t have had too much trouble working out who should get the credit for what, but she did feel sorry for Driscoll. Some magical instinct for self-preservation kept her, however, from agreeing to his suggestion that he help out on the current project as a stopgap measure.
Unfortunately the instinct must have then decided it had done a day’s work. It occurred to Rachel that she really ought to pass on Professor Edwards’ advice; no sense of self-preservation suggested that this was really not the time.
‘Have you ever thought of leaving academia?’ she asked tentatively.
She had no opportunity to say anything else for quite a long time. Driscoll had not thought of leaving academia.
‘How can you be so unbelievably inconsiderate as to suggest that at a time like this?’ he demanded. ‘How can you be so childish? I suppose,’ he went on, with a belated attempt at dignity, ‘that the profession has room enough for the two of us. I suppose we can behave like adults. I need hardly add,’ he added, ‘that I still feel considerable interest in your work here, and would appreciate the opportunity to examine your results.’ The horn-rimmed glasses dared her to object.
Rachel wished people would stop going on about behaving like adults. What it seemed to mean was politely doing something insane. She didn’t have the heart to argue the point with Driscoll, though. She just hoped he’d be adult enough not to spill ink all over her work.
‘Of course you’re welcome to look at it,’ she said. ‘Do you mind if I leave you to it, though? I’ve got something to discuss with Mr Mallett.’
That was a nice grown-up way of referring to feeding time for William. Something told her it would carry weight with Driscoll.
‘Don’t let me stop you,’ he said peevishly.
‘I’ll look back in on you in a bit,’ Rachel promised. If that wasn’t insane politeness at its adult best, what was? Meanwhile she had a hungry tarantula to think about.
She left the room and headed for Grant’s office with a light step. She wouldn’t disturb him, of course, but naturally they would get into conversation while she fed William. Rachel couldn’t help feeling she deserved a little light relief after all this talk with Driscoll.
If only Grant was still there! It was true that he’d said they should be more formal, but Grant didn’t have a formal bone in his body. He’d just been feeling depressed by his engagement, she decided. Maybe he’d have started to see reason by now. Even if he hadn’t, though, she could do with some light-hearted banter after an hour or so of gloom.
‘Does Grant have anybody with him?’ she asked the secretary.
‘No, but he’s pretty busy—’ The girl broke off as the intercom crackled.
‘Isn’t that draft prospectus ready yet?’ snapped an impatient voice.
‘I’m afraid not; it may be another half an hour—’
‘You do understand that this is extremely urgent?’
‘I’ve had a lot of interruptions this afternoon,’ the girl said apologetically.
‘Well, get a move on, will you?’
Rachel decided that maybe she wasn’t the stuff perfect secretaries were made of after all. She couldn’t imagine putting up with that nonsense for more than two seconds. It didn’t take much to work out who’d been doing the interrupting.
‘I won’t disturb him,’ she assured the secretary.
‘I think that’s probably best,’ admitted the girl, looking relieved.
It was only when Rachel headed for the door of Grant’s office that the misunderstanding became clear—and then it was too late.
‘Hello,’ said Rachel cheerily, closing the door smartly behind her. ‘Bad day?’
Grant looked up from some papers and frowned at her. He looked at least as severe as Driscoll, and a lot more formidable. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.
‘I won’t disturb you,’ Rachel promised him.
‘You are disturbing me.’ Once it would have been a compliment; now he just sounded annoyed. ‘What are you doing here?’
Rachel wo
uld not have liked this tone of voice from anyone. She would have liked it even less from a man she was in love with, whatever their relations had been. Hearing it from Grant, though, made her feel she might go off like a firecracker.
This was a man who’d flirted with her unmercifully for the first three months of their acquaintance. He’d kissed her twice and danced with her once, and he had insisted on keeping William in his own office because, if you please, he didn’t want Rachel to avoid him. He’d insisted on taking William in the first place, in fact, purely to annoy Driscoll. And now listen to him!
‘I’ve come to feed William,’ Rachel said coldly. ‘Just because you don’t want to flirt any more it doesn’t mean William can miraculously feed on air.’
‘All right, get on with it, then.’
‘Yes, sir!’ said Rachel, saluting smartly.
She ambled, as slowly as she dared, to the filing cabinet on which William’s new glass box had been placed. It was a way of walking which did a lot to emphasise the shapely curve of her hips and her spectacular long legs in their skintight, ancient jeans.
It seemed to do nothing to improve Grant’s temper, though; she could see his lips tighten. What a shame!
Rachel hopped up onto the filing cabinet beside William and opened her little plastic box of goodies.
‘Maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t become your secretary after all,’ she remarked, tossing William an appetiser. ‘Are you like this all the time now?’
‘Like what?’ he asked through gritted teeth. For all his impatience he hadn’t made much of an effort to go back to his papers, she noticed; was that a good sign?
‘Impatient and bad-tempered,’ Rachel replied promptly.
‘I’ve got an important deadline coming up, if that’s what you mean,’ he said, scowling.
Driscoll only looked sulky when he scowled; Grant looked much more forbidding. All the more reason not to be daunted, she told herself.
‘Do important deadlines always make you pompous and irritable?’ she asked sympathetically. ‘It must be a terrible nuisance.’ She dropped a couple of small snacks over the side of the glass.
Suddenly Grant stood up, pushing back his chair. He walked towards her across the carpet with a steady, measured stride very different from her own hip-swinging progress earlier; well, she supposed this was what she’d wanted. He stopped and looked at her thoughtfully, the brilliant blue eyes on a level with hers.
‘Rachel,’ he said very quietly, ‘do you have any idea what it takes to get something like this off the ground?’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Rachel.
‘You’ve got to persuade investors that you can attract first-class people, and at the same time persuade first-class people that you’ll be able to offer the facilities that will make it worth their while to make a definite commitment—everyone wants someone else to make an ironclad commitment first. It takes a lot of time, and a lot of money—money that’s a dead loss if nobody bites.’
It was hard for Rachel to imagine anyone not instantly agreeing to anything Grant suggested. ‘I can see it must be difficult,’ she said.
‘That’s one word for it,’ he said. ‘But it’s worth it—you of all people should see that. You must at least have some idea of the kind of difference the place could make if it worked.’
‘Yes,’ said Rachel. She wondered for a moment whether she dared to say what she wanted to say. Probably not ‘But I don’t think any of those risks would bother you if you weren’t making the ultimate sacrifice,’ she said, saying it anyway.
The blue eyes blazed with anger. Rachel pressed on regardless.
‘You’re sacrificing your own happiness for the cause,’ she added unrepentantly. ‘So you think that gives you the right to make everyone else unhappy as well.’
‘I’m not unhappy,’ he told her grimly. ‘My life is exactly the way I want it.’
‘Of course you’re not happy!’ Rachel threw caution to the winds. ‘I know what you’re going through, Grant, and you just can’t do it! I’ve just broken off with Driscoll—’
‘Congratulations.’
‘—and it’s like being let out of prison. You were absolutely right,’ she said urgently. ‘I tried to ignore it, but I couldn’t. But don’t you see? I do know what you’re going through. You can’t possibly keep it up, Grant. You’ve got to end it now, before it’s too late!’
‘I think you’re getting a bit carried away, Rachel,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m glad you’ve put an end to your engagement, since he obviously wasn’t in your league. Our cases bear no comparison, however.’ His voice was even. ‘As far as I can make out, you’d never been seriously involved with anyone before you entered into this relationship. By your age I’d already had plenty of experience, and it’s been a while since I was your age. I know what I’m like, and what I’m looking for. I’m perfectly capable of choosing the right partner for myself.’
Rachel tried to rally under this comprehensive snub. He was getting as pompous as Driscoll, she told herself. The problem was, though, that when Grant decided to pull rank he was overwhelming. He looked worldly and experienced; he made her feel silly and callow. Even worse, he’d retreated behind an armour of self-certainty which seemed well-nigh impenetrable. She had to remind herself that she knew he’d talked himself into this. She knew, too, only too well, that there was an infallible way of getting not only behind the armour but under his skin—if she had the nerve to use it.
‘I see,’ said Rachel. ‘I thought the main evidence of my inexperience was the fact that I hadn’t realised I’d be frustrated. Now it seems it’s all your experience which enables you to decide you don’t mind.’
‘I’m perfectly happy—’
‘How can you be happy if you’re frustrated?’
‘I am not frustrated,’ he snapped.
‘So this doesn’t do anything for you?’ asked Rachel. She wasn’t going to kiss him—at least, not just yet—but she put out a hand to his jaw and ran her thumb over his lower lip.
He stepped back abruptly. His face was thunderous. ‘I don’t have time to waste on this,’ he said.
If she hadn’t actually had the proof before her eyes, Rachel wouldn’t have believed that someone with Grant’s debonair good looks could appear so deadly. His eyes had not only the colour but the hardness of sapphires; his jaw was hard, his mouth not only hard but ruthless.
‘If you have to disturb me to feed the spider, you’ll have to take him with you now,’ he said coldly. ‘If you can’t take him away, I want him fed before seven in the morning. I don’t want you in my office when I’m working unless you have a problem with the environmental assessment that requires my personal intervention. Is that understood?’
Rachel told herself she knew why he was being so horrible, but it didn’t help. She couldn’t help shrivelling up inside under that angry, contemptuous look.
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘Have you finished feeding him now?’
‘Yes,’ she admitted.
‘Then perhaps you’d be good enough to leave,’ he said crisply.
Rachel slunk out of the room.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AFTER that disastrous interview the last thing Rachel wanted was to talk to Driscoll. Still, she could hardly just walk out without saying goodbye. Reluctantly she returned to her little office.
To her surprise she found Driscoll deep in conversation with Olivia.
‘So it’s really not possible to plant some rare species here?’ Olivia was saying.
‘Well, it would depend on the species—part of the problem is getting the plants, of course. If they’re rare they’re usually protected, so one couldn’t just go digging them up—at least not in broad daylight.’ Driscoll gave a rather sly laugh.
Olivia caught sight of Rachel. ‘Your friend has been setting my mind at rest,’ she said. ‘So much is riding on this environmental impact study—what’s to stop one of Grant’s enemies from just planting rare species her
e and sabotaging it? But Driscoll tells me the plants couldn’t transfer that easily.’
‘And even if they could be transplanted it would be hard to find plants that would be convincing in the context,’ Rachel reassured her. ‘Rare species don’t exist in isolation; each one is embedded in a whole habitat—and you couldn’t very well transfer that. If something didn’t belong I’d probably be able to get to the bottom of it long before we actually submitted the report and the application for planning approval.’
‘I see.’ Olivia looked thoughtful. ‘Well, I’d still like this place to be a haven for ecologically threatened plants if we can get some. I know it’s what Grant would want.’ She smiled at Driscoll, who smiled back, dazzled. ‘I understand your friend here is between jobs; I’d like him to look into it for me and see what we can do. Obviously we’d expect to pay well for someone with such a high level of expertise.’
‘It’s wonderful to meet a member of the general public with an appreciation of the importance of this work,’ said Driscoll, brightening at the mention of money.
Olivia sighed and shook her head. ‘It’s tragic the way some of the best people get passed over in academia,’ she said. ‘I think you’ll find industry is a different story. I realise this can only be a short-term proposition for someone with your background, but I’ll certainly have a word with Rupert Matheson.’
‘The head of Glomac?’ Driscoll said incredulously.
‘He’s a good family friend. I’m sure he can find something for you. A man in his position knows that first-rate people sometimes don’t do as well in interviews as flashier, superficial people—I know you’ll be a tremendous help to me, and I’ll make sure Rupert knows you’re the kind of man he’s looking for.’
Driscoll flashed a triumphant glance at Rachel before stammering his thanks.
‘I know you and Driscoll have had a little tiff,’ Olivia added suavely. ‘But I’m sure we can all behave like adults, can’t we?’
Rachel tried to muster her last drop of adult politeness. She agreed to this and excused herself politely. Now that her office had been taken over she couldn’t work anyway, she told herself; she might as well go home.