She looked anywhere but at his mouth. ‘If you remember, working here was not my idea,’ she said with spirit.
She saw him put the irritation away from him like a jacket he’d taken off. He was no longer mad as a hornet. He was charming. Determinedly charming.
She watched the beguiling smile which put an indentation in one cheek and thought, Your performance is nearly as good as mine. The smile was—almost—irresistible. Zoe regarded him with total suspicion.
‘Right. Now, what can you offer us?’
She outlined her office skills stiffly. All the more stiffly as he didn’t seem to be listening very hard.
His smile grew. ‘You really don’t like me very much, do you?’ he said.
Zoe breathed hard. ‘Do I have to like you?’
He beamed. ‘You’ll do.’
Great. More and more like the slave market.
‘Gee, thanks,’ she said with heavy irony.
He ignored that. He slung himself down behind a light glass and chrome table and switched on a computer that he’d magicked out of a hidden wall cupboard. At once he was flicking away absently. He seemed to have no more than half an eye on the messages that flashed up on the screen and then disappeared.
‘Not at all. Take a load off. Sit.’
It was not a gracious invitation but she was quite glad to comply. Her head was beginning to spin slightly.
‘Thank you.’
He carried on scrolling through his messages on the screen. ‘So. They showed you round? What do you think of the place?’
Zoe was taken aback. ‘I don’t know anything about public relations.’
‘Neither do most of our customers. And they come through here all the time. I’m curious as to what they make of us. So, tell me, what were your first impressions?’
‘Schizophrenia,’ she said honestly.
He stopped flicking for a moment. ‘What?’ He sounded genuinely intrigued.
‘Well, the decor—’ She waved her hand. ‘You don’t seem to be able to make up your mind whether you want to be a set for a sci-fi film or the waiting room of Louis Quatorze.’
‘Really?’ He looked at her curiously. He did not seem offended. ‘No one’s ever said that before.’
‘Maybe nobody has dared to.’
‘You’re a real original, aren’t you?’ He said it with the air of a connoisseur, as if she ought to be flattered by his approval.
She was not flattered. Suddenly, blessedly, she was hopping mad.
‘Am I? Is that supposed to be compliment?’
Jay shrugged. ‘I don’t pay compliments. Especially not to women who work for me.’
‘That must make for a happy work place,’ said Zoe, bristling.
For a moment he looked startled. Then he smiled again, with a lot less conscious charm, she thought.
‘Makes it peaceful, at least,’ he said ruefully. ‘Almost the only house rule we have. Don’t screw the company. You can make private phone calls. I don’t care what time you get in or leave, as long as you do your own work. But if you start a steaming affair with a colleague you get your cards and leave at the end of the week.’
Zoe was so angry she could have danced with temper if she had not been wearing her best clothes and trying to be dignified. ‘What about an affair that’s only slightly simmering?’ she asked sweetly.
His eyes narrowed. ‘A barrack room lawyer, are you? Fine. The definition is: any relationship that causes sheep’s eyes across the computer.’
‘And how do you define sheep’s—?’
Suddenly he tired of the game. ‘Anything other people notice,’ he snapped.
‘Oh, well, that’s all right,’ she said unwarily. ‘I’m good at keeping things secret.’
When he was angry his eyes went a flat, brownish green, she thought. He looked at her for an unnerving, silent minute.
‘Are you deliberately trying to provoke me into sacking you on your first day here?’ he said at last softly.
She stood her ground. She had paid attention when Suze talked, after all.
‘You can’t afford to sack me. You won’t get anyone else in the time and you’ve run out of good will in the agencies,’ Zoe pointed out.
It was a stand-off. They glared at each other until the door opened and Poppy came in with a tray. She took in the atmosphere in one glance, put down the coffee, and backed out fast.
But it broke the tension.
‘Come to think of it, how do you manage to get through staff so fast?’ asked Zoe, bland as cream. ‘Do they collapse on the treadmill?’
‘They fall in love with me,’ said Jay, even blander.
She gasped, gagged, and collapsed into a coughing fit.
His eyes lost that green angry look. He looked satisfied, damn him.
But he still had good manners. ‘Would you like some water?’
She shook her head, eyes streaming. He passed her a neatly laundered handkerchief.
‘That’s the other house rule,’ he said, pouring coffee while she mopped her eyes and got her breath back painfully. ‘Never mind the end of the week. If you fall in love with me you leave at once. On the hour. Clear?’
He gave her the coffee cup. Zoe took it with a hand that was only just not trembling with rage.
I ironed my best shirt so this comedian could patronise me, she thought in fury.
She said aloud, ‘No need to worry about that. I’m the original Hard-Hearted Hannah.’
He was pouring his own coffee, but at that he stopped and looked round. One eyebrow flicked up in amusement. ‘No man gets to the fifth date with me,’ she told him, smiling so hard her teeth hurt. ‘Ask Suze. I don’t fall in love.’
He pursed his lips in a silent whistle. It was disbelief incarnate. It was the last straw.
‘I’m too easily bored.’
‘Bored?’ He did not sound pleased.
‘Yes.’ Zoe sipped her coffee. She was shaking with indignation but he would never have guessed it. Performing Zoe was in control again, and she was good. ‘I agree with you. Office affairs are messy. And never worth it.’
His eyebrows flew up.
So he didn’t like that, did he? Good! She could have hugged herself with glee.
She gave him her best hot babe smile, all eyes and intensity.
‘So chill out, dude. You’d never be a candidate.’
CHAPTER FIVE
SO HE’D never be a candidate, wouldn’t he? Ms Hip Chick was making a big mistake if she thought he’d ever want to be a candidate.
But even as the words formed in Jay’s furious brain he was finding other words pushing them out of the way. And not just words.
Hell!
Wrong time. Wrong place. Wrong woman. Oh, boy, was she the wrong woman, with her curls that she couldn’t keep under control and that spit-in-your-eye-as-soon-as-look-at-you manner.
He said it all to himself as he stared into her taunting brown eyes. Didn’t make any difference. He still had to wrestle his libido back into its cave.
Down boy!
‘Zoe Brown—’ he began darkly.
She put a hand on her hip and tilted her head at him defiantly.
Hell and double hell.
Precision and self-control at all times, Jay reminded himself. That was what made success. Whether it was long- distance running or business, the same principle applied. You focused on one goal—one—and you tuned out all distractions. Zoe Brown was going to be harder to tune out than most, but he would do it. Oh, yes, he would do it.
If he could still run when he could no longer feel his legs and there was nothing but will driving him on, he could neutralise the impact of a voluptuous mouth and a bad attitude. Maybe he could even turn it to his advantage, now he came to think of it. After all, she really, really didn’t like him. And most of her predecessors had liked him too much.
So he smiled blandly, straight into her hot eyes.
‘That’s a good start. Carry on hating me. That is definitely your unique
selling point.’
‘What?’
‘It will compensate in full for your inexperience. Even for a certain amount of inefficiency.’
‘I am not,’ said Zoe between her teeth, ‘inefficient.’
‘No?’ He was deliberately sceptical. Suze had told her to challenge the girl. She’d said that was the only way to knock the self-doubt out of her. Well, this was going to be the challenge of her life.
‘If you’ll just tell me what you want me to do, I’ll even show you,’ she told him, with a fierce smile.
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Then come with me.’
She steamed beside him down to the open plan office so angry she could barely speak.
‘Abby,’ he said to a tall woman with soft dark hair and gentle eyes. ‘Zoe is joining us. Point her in the direction of a computer, would you?’
‘Sure, Jay.’
And to Zoe, ‘I’m giving a keynote speech at a conference in Venice. Public Relations in a Changing World. I scribbled out some notes and left a list of things I wanted checked and updated. It’s all on file.’
He seized a notepad off Abby’s desk and scribbled down some words. He tore the page off and handed it to Zoe.
‘There you are. That will get you into the file. Talk to me at the end of the day about how long it’s going to take.’
He left.
Abby smiled at Zoe. ‘I saw you earlier, didn’t I? Welcome again.’
‘Thank you.’
‘That sounds like the stuff Banana was doing. Interesting. Well, look, take the desk under the window for now, and we’ll get you logged on.’
The Venice file was enormous. More a rag-bag than a decent way of organising information, Zoe thought. She was pleased. This was what she was good at. She lost herself in archived magazine articles and forgot challenging Jay Christopher. Well, nearly.
She still knew who they meant when a voice above her head said, ‘I hear the Volcano has gone up again.’
She looked up.
Abby was standing by her desk with a tall, fierce-looking woman in an eye-hurting magenta leather catsuit.
‘Molly di Paretti,’ said the woman, holding out a hand.
At least she wasn’t another battling blonde, thought Zoe. She stood up and shook hands.
Molly di Paretti smiled and the ferocity disappeared. ‘Abby and I are off to hit Patisserie Pauline. Coming?’
Well, Jay had said he didn’t care what time she got in or left as long as she did her work. Presumably he did not care about expeditions in search of coffee, either.
‘Great,’ she said.
She saved her work and logged off without sitting down again. They went.
Patisserie Pauline turned out to be a small half-shop, with a bar along one wall and half a dozen marble-topped tables in its depths. It was full of the smell of coffee and warm pastry.
‘Bliss,’ said Molly.
‘You’re a carbohydrate junkie,’ said Abby amused.
‘Guilty.’
Zoe looked at the magenta catsuit and shook her head. ‘With a figure like that?’
‘I know,’ said Abby. ‘Life’s not fair.’
‘Look, I was heavy once. Then I lost it and learned to prioritise. One of Pauline’s brioches is worth giving up fish and chips for.’ Molly flicked an imperious finger at a round woman behind the counter. ‘The usual, Pauline. Plus one for the new member.’
She led the way to the back of the shop, where people were already seated at all the tables but one. It had a little reserved notice in the middle. Molly flicked it off and put it on the counter behind her. She sat down. Zoe was not entirely sure that the table had been reserved for them, though. Molly had the look of a rule-breaker. Zoe was envious.
‘Now,’ said Molly, purple elbows on the table, leaning forward. ‘Tell. What has he done with the body?’
Zoe recoiled, ‘Body?’
Abby intervened. ‘Molly’s distorted sense of humour,’ she explained. ‘She means your predecessor. Banana Lessiter.’
Zoe began to feel as if she had broken through into another dimension. ‘Banana?’
‘Barbara Lessiter. She called herself Banana.’ Molly was impatient. ‘What’s he done with her? She was still alive and lusting after him all over the office last Wednesday.’
‘I see.’ Zoe was suddenly enlightened. ‘That must be why he warned me against falling in love with him.’
‘He didn’t!’ The others stared at each other, between shock and amusement.
‘Yes, he did. It’s a dismissal matter, apparently. That must be what happened to—er—Banana.’
‘You’ve got to be right,’ agreed Molly. She whistled. ‘Wow. She really must have got him running scared.’
Zoe choked. ‘Scared? Jay Christopher? That’s a joke, right?’
Molly shook her head. ‘You have no idea. The man is—’
‘A good boss and an all-round decent guy,’ interrupted Abby reprovingly.
Molly was unrepentant. ‘Oh, sure. But he never lets a woman get too close, either. Come on, Abby, admit it. He cares more about his art collection than he does about his girlfriends.’
‘I don’t know any of his girlfriends.’
‘Well, you wouldn’t, would you? He just told Zoe. It’s the quickest way to get your cards.’
Zoe said slowly, ‘He said there was a no dating policy for the whole office. Not just him. Is that true?’
Molly pulled a face.
But Abby said, ‘Yes, there is. And I agree with it.’
‘Emotions will be left in the umbrella stand,’ muttered Molly.
Abby ignored her. ‘It takes the pressure off. You can break up with your boyfriend and not have to make a choice between seeing him at the next desk every morning or leaving your job. Which,’ she added tartly, ‘if you went through men as fast as Molly used to, is a definite plus.’
Molly grinned.
Zoe winced inwardly. There were plenty of people ready to say that she went through men quite as fast as Molly could.
‘Is that what Banana did?’
‘Don’t know what she did,’ said Molly. ‘Though, knowing her, it probably involved taking her clothes off. I mean we all let our hormones ride us sometimes, but Banana’s galloped.’
Zoe winced again. And hid it, as she always did.
Here we go again. Another bunch of nice women who are going to rub my nose in it every time I turn round. Am I really the last virgin in captivity?
‘Still, she wasn’t subtle, but I gather she was effective. Until Jay, of course.’
‘Poor Banana,’ said gentle Abby.
Molly snorted. ‘It’s amazing he put up with her this long. She’s been all over him since the Christmas party.’
Abby looked horrified suddenly. ‘Oh, no! The party!’
‘What?’
But their coffee arrived, along with a basket of mouth- watering pastries. By the time they had chosen, and tasted, and pronounced, Abby was easily able to change the subject. And she was desperate to do just that, Zoe saw. She wondered why. Molly and Abby seemed such friends!
Still, people were not necessarily all that they seemed. Self-effacing Abby turned out to be the woman the popular press called Fab Ab. She was married to an international tennis star turned businessman. Even Zoe, not a reader of the gossip columns, had heard of her. Maybe friendship was different in celebrity circles, thought Zoe, going quiet.
She did not have long to nurse her doubts. Abby cornered her in the luxurious ladies’ restroom less than an hour later.
‘Molly’s getting married next month. Jay wants C&C to give her a surprise party. I just remembered it when we were having coffee. Trouble is—Banana was supposed to organise it.’
‘Ah,’ said Zoe, relieved that she had not misjudged Abby after all.
‘If Jay’s sacked her, I’ll have to find out how far she’s got and run with it.’
‘Do you want me to have a trawl through her desk and see if she’s left any notes?’
Zoe offered. ‘I’ve inherited her other files, after all.’
‘Would you? That would be such a help. Molly’s bound to get suspicious if she sees me rummaging through Banana’s desk.’
‘Sure thing. No problem.
Zoe took the desk drawers apart. There were notes. They showed that Banana had done precisely nothing except get a budget out of Jay Christopher and ring round a few restaurants. It was a generous budget, Zoe saw. You might not be allowed to fall in love with him, but he was lavish when he celebrated your falling in love with someone else. But there was still nowhere booked to hold the party.
‘Help!’ squeaked Abby, when she told her.
‘Do you want me to do it?’
Abby was doubtful. ‘You’ve only just got here.’
‘I can handle it,’ said Zoe with conviction. ‘It will be a nice change from sorting and filing.’
‘Then thank you,’ said Abby with real gratitude. ‘I’ll give you the address list.’
Jay wandered through the open plan office around four. There was a comfortable buzz of activity. When he walked in, it neither revved up nor fell to ostentatious concentration. Jay noticed that with approval.
‘Well?’ he said, pausing by Tom Skellern’s desk.
Tom was on the telephone to a City editor on behalf of a new client fighting off a takeover. He raised his thumb to Jay and continued with the conversation.
Jay turned to the next desk. ‘Molly?’
‘If you’re asking about Zoe Brown, she’ll be okay,’ said Molly crisply. ‘Abby will look after her. She’s a nurturer.’
He pursed his lips. ‘You think Zoe Brown needs looking after? I’d have said that she was more than capable of taking care of herself.’
‘Now we’ve found her a computer and somewhere to sit, she probably is,’ Molly said dryly. ‘It would have helped if we’d known she was coming.’
‘But we’re supposed to be good at handling the unexpected, Molly. That’s what public relations is all about,’ he told her blandly.
The Millionaire's Virgin (Mills & Boon By Request) Page 39