Damien knew the moment she arrived. Standing with his hands in pockets, gazing out over the view of the city, he’d heard the soft ping of the lift bell and the whoosh of the doors and he’d known instinctively that she was finally here. He was sure those were her hurried footsteps tearing along the plush careting, and already he could even imagine the scent of apricots drifting along the corridor.
Funny how he couldn’t get that scent out of his head. Even in the chalet in Klosters, surrounded by beautiful women, perfumed and perfectly made-up and offering the ultimate après-ski experience, it had been the faint scent of apricots that had haunted his dreams. For someone who’d almost made a career of studying the effects of different perfumes on women, enjoying the effects of perfume on them, suddenly they no longer appealed. They were all too heavy, too sickly, too cloying.
It hadn’t been a good holiday. Instead of being relaxed he’d had too much time to think. And there were two women he couldn’t get out of his mind. One was a woman who’d let him make sweet love to her and then disappeared off the face of the earth, a woman who defied every attempt of his to track her down.
The other was a paradox, a strange mixture of innocence but with a hidden core, a centre he was finding more beguiling as the layers came off. And when he’d wanted her, she’d turned him down flat.
No one had ever done that before.
Two women, two totally unsatisfactory experiences. No wonder he was having trouble sleeping.
And now one of them couldn’t even make it into work on time. Things were going to have to change around here.
He heard her brief greeting to Enid and the older woman’s reply, followed by a low, ‘He’s waiting for you. Better go straight in.’ It sounded to Damien like a warning. Damned right.
He waited until he could hear her footfall near his door, her breath rapid but soft, as if she was trying not to let on she was worried. He turned.
‘You’re late!’
‘I’m sorry, but—’
‘Our meeting was for nine o’clock. It’s now closer to ten.’
‘I phoned you…Enid—’
‘You don’t work for Enid. You work for me. When you can be bothered to turn up.’
‘That’s not fair—’
Her protest was cut off with a violent slash of his hand through the air that ended with a slam of his open palm on the desk.
‘Are these the sort of hours you expect to be paid for? Because there’s no place for freeloaders in this organisation.’
‘I can’t help it if the trains are late.’
‘It’s your job to get to work on time. Period. If the trains can’t get you here on time, find a reliable form of transport.’
‘I’ll work through lunch. I’ll make it up.’
‘Damned right you will.’
‘Fine,’ she said with a sniff, pulling herself upright that way she did as if it added inches. ‘At least we agree on something.’
He stopped, the wind taken out of his sails as soon as she’d stopped defending herself. His pause gave him his first chance to really look at her. Her soft linen shift fitted her well without being tight, its pastel tones cool and perfect for summer. By contrast her hazel eyes were blazing but instead of her face glowing red she looked so pale, her skin almost translucent.
‘Are you okay?’
Something flared, bright and potent in her eyes, before it was just as quickly extinguished. ‘Perfectly well.’
‘It’s just that you look a bit…washed out.’
Could he tell? Was it that obvious?
‘Er, I ran all the way from the station and…’ She licked her lips. She’d been going to wait until after their discussion of the roll out of the new campaign, but maybe this was as good a time as any. It might serve to wipe that pompous look off his face.
He watched her. ‘And?’ he prompted.
‘And I’m pregnant.’
Stunned silence met her announcement. But only for a few moments. Then all hell broke loose.
‘You’re what?’
‘I’m pregnant.’ Actually, now that she’d said it out loud, she felt pretty good. It was good to say it. It was good to tell someone who didn’t have the title of doctor before their name. A smile made its way to her lips as her hand rested over her tummy. ‘I’m having a baby.’
His eyes followed the movement of her hand but there was no accompanying smile. In fact the way his lip curled made him look positively hostile.
‘How the hell did that happen?’
She shrugged, still unable to stop smiling. That smug look of his was nowhere to be seen. ‘The usual way.’ She thought about that for a second more, enjoying the experience of turning the tables on him. ‘Or not so usual, I gather.’