Damn it, not now.
He reminded himself this wasn’t a date, ordered his unruly body to cooperate and forced his attention to the building in front of them while he rolled down his sleeves. ‘You have to think potential, Sophie.’
He’d made his fortune by seeing possibilities and making them happen. He’d been a millionaire at twenty-seven because he dared to dream and didn’t let others tell him it wasn’t possible.
‘I’m afraid I’m not very imaginative.’
His gaze swung back to her just as she turned to him with a stunned tell-me-I-didn’t-say-that expression and their gazes locked and for a beat out of time the spectre of that dream fantasy smouldered in the tiny space between them. ‘I don’t believe that for a moment.’
‘Believe it,’ she muttered, and, pushing out of the car, she started walking.
He shrugged into his jacket, grabbed his briefcase from the back seat and caught up with her along the path. Without further comment she accompanied him to the main door where they met the owner, Sam Trent, and Ben Harbison, an architect who’d worked with Jared on several projects. After a briefing in Sam’s office, they spent half an hour inspecting the premises while Sophie took notes. For the remainder of the meeting, she worked unobtrusively at one end of the table, the only sound the quiet click of her keyboard.
Unobtrusive? For the second time in as many minutes Jared looked up from the plans in front of him, his gaze unerringly finding Sophie. Focused on her task, she wasn’t giving him a second’s glance.
How did she manage cool concentration when he couldn’t? Her fast, efficient fingers with their clear-varnished nails were the cause of the clicking and Jared couldn’t stop thinking about them being fast and efficient in other ways, as she’d described in her dream. And whenever the breeze wafted through the open window, it wasn’t the sea air but her fragrance that floated to his nostrils.
The meeting wrapped up at nine-fifteen. He was glad his ten o’clock appointment didn’t require his PA. And his eleven-fifteen would keep him busy until lunch. Only the afternoon to get through, he thought, watching the little hollows behind her knees as she bent over to retrieve her bag from the floor.
Swinging his gaze away, he focused on Sam’s conversation while he stuffed a couple of files into his briefcase. Reminded himself again that he didn’t get involved with employees.
However, a couple of hours of working back this evening would clear yesterday’s clutter and when the work was finished Sophie’s two-day fill-in for Pam would be over. She would no longer be in his employ…
CHAPTER THREE
‘YOUR ten o’clock cancelled,’ Sophie informed Jared as they walked to the car.
A hunger fist clenched around her stomach. She hadn’t had time for breakfast. And she’d refused Sam’s offer for refreshment because she hadn’t been sure she’d keep it down she was so uptight, and had stuck to her bottled water. ‘He’ll ring back this afternoon and reschedule.’
Jared aimed the remote at the car and the alarm blipped. ‘In that case, I’d like to make another stop before we head back.’
She’d been hoping for some time and space back at the office. Alone at her desk. She didn’t want to be anywhere near him, inhaling his scent, listening to his voice and wondering… This on-the-edge-of-the-seat feeling that Jared might have read her diary was killing her. In a way it was almost worse than knowing. At least if she knew, she could make some attempt to deal with it. But she wasn’t going to risk asking.
It was a beautiful day with the sky’s blue dome reflecting on the sea. Ridges of surf scrolled along the sand, already dotted with beach-goers. Right now Sophie wished she were one of them. No boss to stress over, just a day of relaxation stretched out to enjoy. Or better still, to be one of the gulls wheeling high and low over the ocean.
As she watched Jared open the boot she reminded herself she’d be as free as those gulls in just under four weeks. He dropped his gear in, motioned her to do the same with Pam’s laptop. He shrugged out of his jacket once more, then to her surprise he yanked off his tie and tossed it in the boot with the rest of his stuff, and said, ‘What do you say to fish and chips?’
Now? What was wrong with muesli and fruit and a nice hot coffee? ‘It’s only nine-twenty—’
‘First off, do you like fish and chips? And I’m not talking the fast-food skinny-mini deals but the old-fashioned crisp on the outside, soft in the middle and wrapped in butcher paper kind.’
‘I do, but—’
‘So forget the office—and the boss—for an hour and take a break. I know a little seafood shop here that’s open early. They do take-away cappuccino too, if you need your caffeine fix.’