Lonely Pride

by Tricia McGill

  Chapter Ten

  “What is it with you? Ever since you came back from Tasmania you’ve been about as approachable as a porcupine!” Peter looked Sam up and down, frowning.

  Perched on the corner of the desk in the cramped space laughingly called her office, in his motived shirt, ankle boots and figure hugging trousers, he looked more like a thirty-year-old playboy than a forty-year-old businessman. He was loath to have his long hair cut and he now tossed the curls back. Sam thought, not for the first time, how ridiculous his flamboyant style was.

  She looked through the glass wall that gave her a good view of the boutique’s main sales area, nibbling on the end of a pencil, sighing inwardly. Why wouldn’t he satisfy her wishes and go away and leave her alone.

  “We hardly talk anymore.” His complaints set her teeth on edge. Leaning on her desk, his face above hers, he went on, “Every time I ask you out you’re either too busy or too tired. I object to being treated as if I have the plague.” She stared at his knuckles where the skin grew white as he pressed them on the desk. “I’m warning you, I refuse to be fobbed off like some second rate suitor.” Drawing a deep breath he finished with, “I’m tired of being celibate.”

  That was his main problem. And she wasn’t about to be the one to solve that particular one. Now or ever. A laugh threatened to bubble up from her throat as he looked at her like a small boy denied his ice cream. Petulant, that described him best. “Are you coming to this fashion parade with me this evening?” he demanded.

  Sam was too tired and listless to care one way or the other. But he was her employer, and part of her job was to attend such functions with him, so she agreed, “All right. But I’m not staying long.”

  “That’s the spirit, darling.” His boyish features broke into a grin. He was already turned away and rubbing his palms together, so didn’t catch her grimace of distaste at his endearment. He was at the door when he said, “We can pop into that disco I was telling you about afterwards.”

  Like hell they would. Sam couldn’t be bothered to contradict. He wouldn’t have heard anyway. Peter only heard what he wanted.