'I'm sorry if you've been kept waiting.' Embarrassment rushed her into speech. 'But yesterday was the city's Anniversary Day, a public holiday. We didn't know about your change of plan until about half an hour ago.' An acceptable compression of time in the circumstances, she felt.
'It was rather short notice; and we haven't really been waiting long,' the older man replied, but with a quick glance at his companion that spoke volumes to' Sarah. That expression of boredom hadn't been feigned.
'If . . . if you'll bring your bags and follow me—the car's right outside.'
She followed them over to their luggage. The two men were both the same height, but Tom Forest's large frame gave him an amble whereas Max Wilde glided with an almost feline grace.
The world outside was a vivid contrast to the controlled environment of the terminal. The warm humidity rolled into their faces with surprising suddenness and out in the direct sunlight colours everywhere seemed bright and hard.
'I think I'll go and find a cigarette machine,' Tom Forest said. 'I didn't buy any duty-free, I'm trying to give up. But I think I was a bit optimistic to think I could do it all at once. Now I've smoked my last one I think I need the security of an emergency pack.' With a smile he inclined his head at Sarah and she watched with regret as he walked away.
There was a long silence as Max Wilde moved forward and leant his forearms across the top of the car. He looked up into the arc of cloudless blue, narrowing his eyes against the glare. The heat from the metal soaked into his body soothing away some of the stiffness. The effects of the crash still lingered in his system even if, as his father had said, he didn't want to admit them. There were scars, not all of them physical, and considering the length the company went to play down the details of the accident, it was fortunate that there were no obvious disablements to explain away. Just this damned unsettling dissatisfaction with the world in general. Even the challenge of merger and takeover had lost its edge.
The longer the silence stretched, the more nervous Sarah became. What was he thinking about, to give his face that brooding, imp
atient look?
Damn the man! If she was going to be working with him for the next few weeks—working_/ör him—she had better make her peace now and get it over with.
She cleared her throat. 'I'm sorry I spoke as I did just now, but I had no idea who you were . . .'
His head swivelled and for a moment she had the idea he didn't know who she was. Then the hazel eyes narrowed.
'Just a passing wolf on the prowl? Did you think I was moving in for the kill?'
'Of course not,' she floundered. She had, though goodness knew why. The man carried a positive masculine charge, he would never have to make the first move. Women, like that stewardess, would naturally gravitate towards his field of attraction. Most women, that is.
He inspected her again, with the curiosity of a scientist studying an interesting, but odd, specimen.
'You flatter yourself Or is there something I don't see? Does every man who looks at you follow through with a pass?'
'That isn't what I—'
'Do you treat all men as potential rapists? It must make for a very exciting life.'
'Only the ones who look capable of it,' she rapped back, hating him for his deliberate taunts.
To her annoyance he merely laughed. 'From you that's a compliment, I'm sure. Sorry to disappoint you but public ravishment is not my style. I'm trying to remember what I read about you in the personnel files, nothing that prepared me for the unique quality of your welcome.'
If anything was calculated to haul Sarah up short, that was. What was she doing? Julie would kill her. And dance on her grave! How was she going to get out of this one?
'I'm—' The word jammed in her throat and took some pushing to release. 'I'm sorry . . . I—I'm not really back in the swing of things yet. I've only just come back from holiday. Everything was very much up in the air when I left. The deal must have gone through very rapidly.' She was beginning to babble but at least she wasn't saying anything that could be construed as insubordinate.
'I like to work quickly. It keeps everyone on their toes.'
'Are you going to be here long?' she asked, striving for normality.
'Long enough.'
'Have you ever been here before?' 'No.'
It was like trying to get blood out of a stone. Sarah made one last attempt. 'Well, you've picked the right time of year. February weather is usually the best of the summer.'
'I came here to work, not lie in the sun.'
'I'm sorry,' she said, dismayed by his sharpness. It seemed nothing she could do or say was right. She was always either insulting him or apologising to him. 'I was just making conversation.'
'Aimless chatter I can do without.'