‘Are those notes typed up yet?’ he rasped.
‘Er—almost,’ she invented.
‘Bring them in as soon as they’re finished.’ The intercom was switched off.
Janice wrinkled her nose. ‘What does he think I’m going to do with them?’ she said dryly.
Laura laughed. ‘He just isn’t a patient man.’
‘Neither is Gideon Maitland,’ Janice was obviously enjoying talking about him, especially to the newcomer Laura was.
Laura looked down at her desk. ‘What’s his daughter like?’
The other girl shrugged. ‘I’ve never seen her. But if she’s anything like her mother then she’s lovely. Felicity Maitland was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.’
Laura’s eyes were wide. ‘More beautiful even than Petra Wilde?’
‘Much more,’ Janice nodded. ‘She was tall and blonde, and very sophisticated. She used to make me feel like a dowd every time she came to the office.’
Considering how attractive Janice’s blonde beauty was Laura knew that the other woman must have been exquisite. She always felt inadequate when in the company of such women, her childish features set in a heart-shaped face, her huge green eyes seeming to dominate her other features, her nose small and snub, her mouth slightly tilted at the corners, her little chin had a determined tilt to it, a determination that was rarely asserted, although once she was roused to temper anything might happen. No doubt Felicity Maitland had had a good dress sense too, whereas she dressed to look efficient at the office in an effort to make up for her obvious youth, the tailored suits and fitted blouses worn for effect rather than style or elegance.
Right now she felt the dowd Janice said she usually felt, even the brightness of her hair dulled by its confinement. A man like Gideon Maitland wouldn’t even spare her a second glance, if indeed he had spared her a first one, and she was a fool for wishing he would.
She bent over her typewriter as she heard him taking his leave of James Courtney, the two men obviously arranging to meet at Gideon’s house later that evening, possibly for dinner.
She couldn’t stop herself, she just had to look up, to catch one last glimpse of him. After all, there was no saying when she would get to see him again, he had been back two days already and this was the first she had seen of him. He was just striding past their open office door, those grey eyes flickering over her coldly before he looked away again, James Courtney’s little mouse of a junior secretary dismissed from his mind—if she had ever entered it!
‘Miss Lawson!’ James Courtney had obviously reached the end of what little patience he possessed, his voice over the intercom chillier than ever.
‘God, what a bear!’ Janice frantically collected up the disordered typewritten sheets.
‘I’d better get on too,’ Laura grimaced. ‘He’ll want these letters for signing before he leaves at five.’
But her mind wasn’t on what she was doing, her usually faultless typing having a few errors today. Her secretarial qualifications were excellent, she wouldn’t have been employed at Courtneys if they weren’t, but when she had attained these qualifications she hadn’t had to contend with piercing grey eyes looking back at her from the keyboard of her typewriter, or to see Gideon Maitland’s hard face every time she glanced at her notepad.
The man was haunting her, his hard face was constantly on her mind. And it just wasn’t like her. She very rarely dated, spending most of her evenings at home, usually with her widowed mother, both of them missing her brother Martin. He had gone to America to work two years ago, claiming that there were more opportunities over there. And there did seem to be, his rapid advancement in the advertising company he had gone to work for seeming to prove his point.
Even through her preoccupation with Gideon Maitland Laura could see her mother’s excitement when she got home later that evening, guessing the reason to be the long-awaited letter from Martin. Her brother was notoriously bad at writing letters, and their mother couldn’t understand why she only received replies to one in every four letters she wrote him. Laura was more inclined to make excuses for him, continuing to write to him even though he rarely replied, knowing that he had a demanding job, and an even more demanding social life, a constant stream of girls seeming to pass through his life.
‘Yet another girl-friend!’ her mother tutted disapprovingly. ‘I don’t think he’ll ever settle down and give me grandchildren. You’ll probably marry before he does.’
Laura snorted at the unlikelihood of that, looking about sixteen now that she had changed out of her work clothes and released her hair. It splayed across her shoulders in natural waves, the colour now a deep rich red, her loose-fitting tee-shirt a pale green, her denims old and faded.
‘How’s his work going?’ she asked interestedly.
‘You know Martin,’ her mother dismissed, obviously reading the letter for about the tenth time. ‘Ever the optimist. He thinks there’s a chance he could be made a partner in the near future.’
That sounded like Martin. He was very like their father had been, always craving change, new excitement. He had worked for Courtneys a couple of years ago, and it was because he had said what a good company they were to work for that Laura had applied for the job there. And he had been proven correct; Courtneys were a good company to work for, very good to their staff.
They needed to be over the next few days, as the majority of the staff went down with ‘flu, Janice among them.
The day she worked for Mr Courtney on her own was the worst day she had known since her employment here. He was a brute of a man to work for, and how Dorothy coped with him all the time she had no idea. He allowed no respite for the fact that instead of his usual three secretaries he was now reduced to just his very junior secretary, demanding the same efficiency from her that he usually got from a full staff.
Her coffee-break went by the board as he dictated letters to her in his quick decisive manner; luckily her short-hand speed fast enough to keep up with him. Her lunch-break had to be given a miss too, as the telephone rang constantly and prevented her typing the letters.
‘Not finished yet, Miss Jamieson?’ he came back from his own lunch to bark at her.
‘Er—no—’
‘Then it’s about time you were,’ he snapped.
‘Yes, sir—’ Her fingers hit three wrong keys in succession as he stood glowering over her.
James Courtney scowled at her mistakes. ‘At this rate you won’t finish before the end of the week, let alone the end of the day!’
‘I—Oh dear!’ Laura groaned as she made yet another mistake. If only he wouldn’t stand over her like this, completely unnerving her.
‘Good God, girl,’ he exploded, his craggy face lined with anger, ‘you can’t even type!’
‘Of course I can type,’ she heard herself retorting. ‘You wouldn’t have employed me if I couldn’t. It’s just that—’
‘Excuses, excuses,’ he dismissed tersely. ‘If you aren’t up to the work, Miss Jamieson, then perhaps I ought to employ someone who is.’
Normally she would have agreed with him and got on with her work. But it had been a hard, difficult week, and she was feeling tired and hungry, the toast and coffee she had gulped down for her breakfast seeming a very long time ago.
So James Courtney had chosen the wrong day to take his temper out on her, and the temper that went with her shade of hair, and was so rarely used by her, for once got the better of her. She looked up at him with sparkling green eyes. ‘I’m up to the work, Mr Courtney,’ she told him tautly. ‘My work,’ she added with emphasis. ‘It may have escaped your notice, but I happen to be working alone here.’
His eyes widened, obviously unaccustomed to his employees answering him back in this way. ‘Where’s Miss Lawson?’ he demanded tersely.
‘She’s off with the ‘flu,’ Laura blushed as she realised how she had just spoken to her employer. She couldn’t ever remember talking to anyone like that before. But then she couldn’t
ever remember anyone being that rude to her before either. She looked down at her hands, slender, capable hands, the nails kept short for her work. ‘I did tell you this morning, Mr Courtney,’ she added huskily.
He scowled heavily, his dark brows low over his icy blue eyes. ‘Half the damned company is off with ‘flu. I suppose you’ll get it next,’ he snapped accusingly, before going into his office and closing the door firmly behind him.
Considering he had more or less told her she was incompetent she was surprised that the prospect of her being off work should bother him. What a bad-tempered old man he was!
Tears filled her eyes, and she buried her face in her hands as she wept. She had been trying so hard to please him, had thought she was succeeding, and with a few biting words he had shown her exactly what he thought of her efforts.
‘Is there anything wrong?’
She looked up with a start, to find herself looking straight at Gideon Maitland, the dark brown suit and cream shirt he wore seeming to make his tan appear even darker. She gulped as he came into the office, reaching frantically into her handbag for a tissue to blow her nose, wiping away the telltale tears at the same time.
‘ ‘Flu?’ he enquired softly, his voice as rich and deep as she remembered.
He was all just as she remembered him, every virile inch of him!
And once again she was making an idiot of herself. Why couldn’t she just act normally about him for once? ‘I—er—no.’ She took her compact out of her bag, viewing her reflection in the mirror with distaste. Heavens, no wonder he thought she had a cold, with her puffed eyes and red nose that was exactly what it looked like! She hastily closed the compact, knowing she couldn’t make the necessary repairs to her face in front of this man. ‘I think I must have had something in my eye,’ she invented.
Gideon Maitland’s mouth twisted, as if he knew very well that the ‘something’ had been tears. ‘Is James back from lunch yet?’
She nodded, glad he didn’t pursue the subject of her tears. ‘He came back several minutes ago,’ she confirmed.
‘I see.’ He pursed his lips. ‘And would he be the—er—reason you had something in your eye?’ Dark eyebrows rose over light grey eyes.
Colour flooded her cheeks. ‘I—er—Yes.’ The question came as too much of a surprise for her to prevaricate.
His handsome mouth twisted with humour. ‘His lunch obviously didn’t sweeten his temper.’
Laura licked her lips nervously. What was she supposed to say to a comment like that! ‘I wouldn’t know, Mr Maitland,’ she replied demurely.
He didn’t seem surprised that she knew his name; he leaned back easily against her desk, his arms folded across his chest. ‘That’s very loyal of you,’ he drawled. ‘Your lunch obviously agreed with you.’
‘I didn’t—’ She bit her lip, her lashes fluttering up, only to lower quickly again as her green eyes clashed with clear grey ones.
‘Didn’t what?’ Gideon Maitland probed sharply.
‘Nothing,’ she shook her head. ‘I’ll tell Mr Courtney you’re here,’ and she moved to press the intercom.
Long tapered fingers came out to stop her. ‘Didn’t what?’ Gideon Maitland requested firmly.
Laura extracted her hand from his, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest from the contact. ‘I—I haven’t had time for lunch. You see—’
He stood up. ‘Go and have some now,’ he ordered briskly.
‘There’s really no need—’
‘There’s every need, Miss Jamieson,’ he told her coldly. ‘Lack of food is apt to lower your resistance to infection. The last thing James needs is to have no secretary at all.’
That put her firmly in her place—even an incompetent secretary was better than none at all! ‘I’ll go now,’ she said jerkily. ‘If you’ll just explain to Mr Courtney…’
He nodded curtly and moved impatiently to the door that connected her office to James Courtney’s. ‘I’ll do that,’ he told her abruptly.
She grabbed her handbag and almost ran out of the office, having once again found Gideon Maitland completely overwhelming.
Her hand trembled as she sat alone in the canteen drinking her coffee. There had been a coldness about him, a bitter twist to his beautiful mouth. And no wonder, he probably still missed his wife very much.
And Petra Wilde? Well, he was a man, she shrugged, and men had—appetites, especially if they had been married. Her cheeks coloured delicately as she realised her thoughts had taken her to Gideon Maitland’s bed. A shiver of delight ran down her spine as she imagined those strong, sensitive hands making love to her.
Heavens, she was acting like an infatuated adolescent, fantasising about the latest pop or film-star! But it was more than that, she knew it was. She felt so attracted to him, so aware of him, as if she had always been waiting for such a man. A pity he hadn’t always been waiting for a redheaded, green-eyed nineteen-year-old!
It was good that she could still laugh at herself, as no doubt Gideon Maitland was laughing at her. He was experienced enough with women to know what her reaction to him meant. If only she could stop this childish trembling every time he came near her, and the way she stuttered and stumbled over her words was so juvenile.
She didn’t even know if he was still in with James Courtney when she returned from eating her sandwich lunch, as the walls of the inner office were soundproofed. Her own office still contained the aroma of the cheroot he had been smoking, and the tangy smell was pleasant to the senses, his aftershave masculine and spicy.
Was there nothing she disliked about the man! Yes, of course there was, she told herself crossly, she just didn’t know him well enough to say what they were. His eyes were cold, for one thing, cold and assessing, and he had a cynical twist to his lips constantly, mockery or boredom seeming to be his two main expressions.
She shouldn’t be thinking about him now, she should be thinking of the work she still had to do before she could go home tonight. And goodness knows, there was enough of it!
She was pounding away on her typewriter when the communicating door opened and Gideon Maitland strolled out of the main office. Laura sighed heavily as she hit the wrong key. Her typing teacher would have a fit if she could see the mess she was making of her work today—first James Courtney unnerving her and now Gideon Maitland! She back-spaced and corrected her mistake, half listening to the two men’s conversation without really meaning to. But when Gideon Maitland mentioned her name she found herself more than half listening.
‘I’ll see your Miss Jamieson on Monday morning, then,’ he drawled.
‘First thing,’ the other man nodded.
That perfect mouth twisted derisively. ‘I’m sure Miss Jamieson is never late.’
Chilling blue eyes swept over her rigid figure as she could only make a pretence of typing. ‘Are you, Gideon?’ James Courtney clipped. ‘I can’t say keeping an eye on Miss Jamieson’s timekeeping has exactly occupied any of my thoughts.’
Her mouth tightened as the two men seemed to taunt her without actually talking to her directly. And what did Gideon Maitland mean, she would see him on Monday morning?
‘I’m sure it hasn’t.’ He was smiling openly now, his teeth very white and even against his tan, suddenly looking years younger than the thirty-five years she knew him to be.
James Courtney gave him a considering look. ‘Has it occupied any of yours?’
The other man’s expression at once became bland. ‘Not that I recall,’ he replied distantly.
‘Sure?’ Once again those light blue eyes flickered over Laura.
‘Very sure,’ Gideon Maitland said tightly. ‘Will you be over to see Natalie tomorrow?’ he firmly changed the subject.
‘Of course.’ The other man’s voice was gruff.
Gideon Maitland nodded curtly. ‘I’ll tell her to expect you.’
‘I thought I might take her to the Zoo.’
‘She’ll like that,’ he nodded.
Laura tried to envisage
James Courtney entertaining his granddaughter at the Zoo, and failed miserably. She couldn’t see him anywhere other than seated behind his huge mahogany desk, master of all he surveyed.
She chided herself for being unfair. The man obviously thought a lot of his daughter’s child—he had to if he was willing to take her to the Zoo!
‘Finished yet, Miss Jamieson?’
Lord, she wished he would stop pouncing on her like that! She had been trying to imagine him in the role of doting grandparent, and during that time Gideon Maitland seemed to have taken his leave.
‘Almost,’ she was relieved to be able to answer.
He continued to stare at her, not moving back into his own office as she had expected him to. ‘My son-in-law tells me I’ve been working you too hard,’ he said mildly.
Colour flooded her cheeks. ‘Oh no,’ she shook her head. ‘You—’
‘Oh yes,’ he insisted. ‘What do you have to say about that?’
‘Why, nothing,’ she gasped. ‘I—’
‘Nothing?’ he pounced. ‘Then you don’t agree with him?’
‘Well, I—I—’
‘You do!’ A grim smile of satisfaction lightened his features.
‘Not really,’ she evaded his piercing eyes. ‘I—We’ve all been busy lately, I’ve worked no harder than anyone else.’
‘Exactly what I told Gideon,’ he nodded. ‘Well, we’ll see which one of us you consider a slavedriver after Monday.’
‘Sir?’ she eyed him questioningly.
A ghost of a smile lightened his harsh features. ‘I can assure you that Gideon is even more difficult to work for than I am.’
Laura frowned, having no idea what this man was talking about. Whatever it was it seemed to amuse him.
‘Dorothy will be back on Monday,’ he informed her curtly, obviously tiring of being amused at her expense. ‘You’re to report to Gideon at nine o’clock Monday morning. His secretary has gone down with this damned ‘flu bug—and you’re to be her replacement.’
CHAPTER TWO
‘IT’s a wonderful opportunity for you!’ Laura’s mother exclaimed when told of the arrangements for Monday morning.
Passion from the Past Page 2
