Did he really think she wanted to watch as he held his lady friend in a passionate clinch?
“Bryce, darling, don’t be such a grouch.” The redhead gave a breathy laugh. “You’ll frighten the poor girl to death.”
Caroline pivoted on one stiletto heel. Thank goodness it didn’t snap off. She stifled a sudden jealous impulse to kick the door shut behind her.
It served her right for committing the cardinal sin, the definite no-no for any sensible secretary, falling in love with your boss. Could she put up with watching him canoodling with other women?
Twenty minutes later, the ravishing redhead glided out. Caroline recognized her. Shereen St. Clair, a top model, elegant, sophisticated, and pencil-thin. She remembered seeing the woman’s pictures in the newspapers and fashion magazines. How could any ordinary mortal hope to compete with such perfection?
Chapter Two
Joan had not returned to work but sent in a letter of resignation. Maybe she had tired of Bryce’s mercurial mood swings, and the continual stream of tantrum-throwing women. Caroline had become all too familiar with those lady friends. Why did she set herself up for constant heartache by accepting the position as his secretary? The rise in salary was welcome, but she earned every cent of it.
She arranged flowers for his current favorite, organized movie and restaurant bookings and vetted all his calls. Those women who held his interest she put through to him, or pacified them if he couldn’t come to the phone.
The castoffs, she dealt with them, also. It wasn’t easy. Petulant, spoiled socialites or movie stars didn’t like being unceremoniously dumped.
One particularly nasty piece of work, Natalie Dubois, a wanna-be movie star, had been so abusive, Caroline had put her on ‘hold’ and dashed into Bryce’s office.
“Line one,” she yelled in a fit of uncharacteristic temper. “You break it off with her. I won’t have a creature like Natalie Dubois calling me foul names.”
He calmly picked up the phone. “Natalie, abuse my secretary again and you’ll be hearing from my lawyer. By the way, we’re through.” He slammed the phone down. “Satisfied?” He returned to his work as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
As she typed a long letter, she stabbed the keys in angry frustration. She shouldn’t put up with his bad temper and playboy ways, but she couldn’t bear not to see him, either. On the rare occasions when he did smile at her, the whole office lit up like a Christmas tree. He paid her well and was a generous benefactor to several charities. She often sent off six-figure checks, his only stipulation to the recipients being that his donations should remain confidential.
He didn’t know how she felt about him, thank goodness. That would be the ultimate humiliation. She longed to be something more than a capable pair of hands and a polite mouthpiece, but knew it was an impossible dream. Pigs would fly to the moon before Bryce Harrington took any romantic interest in Caroline Dennison, with her light brown, not-quite-blonde flyaway hair and serviceable chain-store clothes.
The door of his office swung open and Shereen sashayed out. Caroline had to admit she was a striking woman, her slender figure encased in slinky, skin-tight slacks. The matching camisole top displayed gold trim around the neckline and sleeves. She lifted her hand in a desultory salute before tottering off in her ridiculously high gold stilettos, a trail of cloying perfume wafting in her wake.
The phone on Caroline’s desk rang. “Good afternoon, Mr. Harrington’s office, may I help you?”
“Alexander Harrington here, put me through to my son, would you please?” Though Harrington senior sounded authoritative, he was always polite and friendly.
She switched the call through to Bryce’s office and continued typing. A few seconds later he stormed out his face taut with anger.
“Get me that file on the Mountainside estate. I want to see Geoff Davies in here, straight away.”
He slammed the communicating door. Once again his mood had turned feral.
She put through a call to Mr. Davies’ secretary.
“Hi Dulcie, it’s Caroline. The boss wants to see Mr. Davies.”
“Another drama?” Dulcie chuckled. “I’ll tell him. Why do you put up with Harrington?”
“The money’s good.” What a pathetic lie. She knew perfectly well why she put up with his mood swings, but on pain of death would never admit it.
Mr. Davies smiled as he walked into her office. “How are you, Caroline?” Being the company’s senior architect, he took charge in Bryce’s absence.
“I’m fine, how are you?”
“Not bad for an old codger. Do you know what the boss wants me for?”
“No, but he’s in a filthy mood. This is the Mountainside file he asked for.” She handed it over and watched Mr. Davies enter Bryce’s office without knocking.
The buzzer on her desk sounded about five minutes later. She grabbed her notebook and pencil and hurried into Bryce’s office. “The information has been leaked,” he snarled.
“I didn’t mention it to anyone,” Mr. Davies protested.
“Then who did? You and I were the only ones to see those plans and specifications, except…” Bryce shot out of his chair. “What about you, Miss Dennison?”
“I didn’t mention it to anyone. I never discuss my work once I leave the office.”
“Someone did. Geoff’s worked here for years, and I certainly didn’t do it.” He glared at her. “How much money did they offer you?”
“I didn’t do it,” she whispered. For Bryce to think her capable of such disloyalty nearly killed her, especially after the way she had slaved for him over the last few weeks.
“If she says she didn’t do it, I believe her.” Mr. Davies leapt to her defense. “Don’t upset yourself, Caroline.”
“Someone leaked that information,” Bryce growled. “The land will cost us a fortune now.” He slammed his fist so hard on the desk Caroline jumped.
“Those plans were on your desk for the last few days, Mr. Harrington.” Caroline fought to retain her composure.
“So what?” He took an angry puff on a cigarette. “Someone let the cat out of the bag. God knows what other information has been leaked. With government defense contracts coming up for tender, a security breach like this could jeopardize our chances.”
Caroline clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms. “Miss Francis spent time alone in your office last week.”
Temper darkened his features. “Are you insinuating Miss Francis would tamper with my files?”
“If they were open on your desk, she might have. Perhaps she accidentally let something slip. She spent about fifteen minutes in here on Wednesday. Remember? You got called away and told her to wait.”
“She could have seen them, granted.” He stroked his chin with one long, slender finger. “She did spend time here on her own. But why would she steal them? She doesn’t need the money.”
“Meaning I do? If you don’t feel I’m trustworthy, I’ll tender my resignation right now.” Caroline made the offer recklessly. “I don’t dabble in industrial espionage or whatever it’s called.”
“You’re a bloody fool accusing Caroline,” Mr. Davies said, as she stormed off.
“Why would Marilyn do it?”
“You dumped her, Bryce. Ever heard of a woman scorned?” Those were the last words Caroline heard as she fled the office.
By the time she reached her desk, her anger fueled bravado had evaporated leaving her trembling with the fear of what her future held if she left the Harrington company.
***
Once he calmed down, Bryce realized Davies could be right. A woman scorned. An old-fashioned way of putting it, perhaps, but Marilyn Francis could be a bitch. The more he thought about the idea, the more convinced he became that she had disclosed the information to their competitors out of sheer spite.
What a hell of a day. He massaged the tense muscles in the back of his neck and decided to go home early. He pressed the buzzer, but Caroline didn’t answer,
so he put his finger back on it and let it rest there. Where was the girl? Cursing, he strode into her office. Empty.
She had threatened to resign. Surely she wouldn’t walk out and leave him in the lurch. His heart dropped to his boots. When he noticed her bag on the floor beside the desk, he heaved a sigh of relief. If he had to break in another new secretary, it would be the absolute end. Didn’t he have enough on his mind?
He sat in the typist’s swivel chair. Damn it, she had proved to be an excellent secretary. Pleasant, attractive, with the most amazing blue eyes, and her soft flyaway blonde hair made him want to run his fingers through it. How she put up with his foul moods, he didn’t know.
Even as a child he had been hot tempered, but of late he exploded with little provocation. Wincing, he recalled some of the things he’d said to her. He shouldn’t have accused her of industrial espionage without a shred of evidence. He obviously needed a holiday.
His usual activities left him bored senseless. He even dreaded going to his parents’ home tonight for his mother’s birthday. A quiet family dinner with just the three of them, as if he didn’t know what would follow the meal. It happened every time he visited them of late, his mother harping about getting married and producing an heir.
Stalking back into his office, he realized he would have to apologize to Caroline. Hell, he didn’t like saying sorry to anyone. If it came to losing Caroline or apologizing, well, he knew which was the lesser of the two evils.
Purposely he left the connecting door open, so the moment she returned he heard her.
“Caroline.” He leaned into her office from the doorway. “I’d like to speak to you for a moment.”
She glanced up and he was shocked to see tear marks on her cheek.
“I owe you an apology.” It came out stiffly, but he couldn’t help it.
When he saw how pale she looked, he felt like an utter heel, and as he stared into her shattered blue eyes his heart gave a strange, painful lurch.
“I’m sorry about losing my temper. I hope you’ll reconsider your resignation offer. I need you here.”
Her tremulous lips parted. “I would like to continue working for you, but not if you don’t trust me.”
“I’m really sorry, and apologizing doesn’t come easily to me. I do trust you to maintain the confidentiality of our work here. You’re a good secretary, one of the best, and I don’t want to lose you.”
She nodded. “All right, I’ll stay.”
He inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. I’m off now, I have a dinner engagement.” He started towards the door. “You might as well leave too, it’s after five.”
“Thanks, but it doesn’t matter.”
“There isn’t much for you to do here, so you might as well go. Where do you live?” he asked.
“Prahran.”
“I’ll give you a lift. I’m driving to South Yarra, so it’s not far out of my way.”
“Thank you, but I can catch the bus.”
“I said I’d give you a lift.”
He drummed his fingers on the desk as he waited for her to switch the typewriter off and put everything away in the drawer. As she bent to pick up her handbag, he stared at her slim legs. They seemed to go on forever. She wore a mini skirt, but it was only a couple of inches above her knee. Not like some women, who wore skirts so short that when they bent over a man felt compelled to turn his head away as a matter of decency.
For the first time, he studied her. Her face, although not classically beautiful, was fine-boned, with milky white, flawless skin. Her eyes were her best feature, a real forget-me-not blue and round as saucers. A man could drown in them. She walked with the grace of a ballerina, her voice sounded well-modulated, and she was articulate. Caroline Dennison was one classy lady. Clearly she wasn’t aware of this, which added to her attraction.
If she hadn’t been his secretary, he would have been tempted to ask her out on a date. She intrigued him, stirred his senses more than any other woman he could remember, but he never mixed business with pleasure. That could prove a potentially explosive combination. He didn’t want to run the risk of having it blow up in his face. Caroline would be high maintenance, too. She would expect not only physical but emotional commitment from a man, and he wasn’t capable of giving that much of himself to anyone.
“Whereabouts in Prahran do you live?” he asked, as he opened the office door and she ducked under his arm.
“Off Commercial Road. I share an apartment with my girlfriend.” She gave him the address.
They walked to the elevator without speaking. Midway between the second and third floors, the elevator gave a shudder and stopped. It threw her against him. Bryce caught the faint, elusive perfume of her skin and hair, roses, perhaps? It smelled sweet, just like her. Her body felt soft, pliant against his. He tightened his arms around her and held her until the elevator re-started.
He put her away and stepped back a couple of paces. Taking out his cigarettes he offered her one.
“No thanks. I don’t smoke.”
He flicked a gold oblong lighter, put it to the tip of his cigarette and inhaled deeply. “Filthy habit, but I enjoy it.” He grinned. “I don’t have many vices.”
In the executive car park Bryce guided her towards a burgundy Jaguar. He opened the passenger side door for her, waited silently while she got in, then closed the door and strode around to the driver’s side and climbed in.
Caroline snuggled into the soft leather seats, forcing herself not to ooh and ah at this unaccustomed luxury. From the corner of her eye she watched his tanned, well-kept hands on the steering wheel. His obstinate jaw denoted a determination he never bothered to hide.
What bliss, being so close to him in the intimate confines of his luxury car. She felt like royalty. A pity she didn’t live a hundred miles away.
“Turn here.” She directed him from Commercial Road into her street, pointing out the red brick double-storied house that had been divided into four separate apartments. The lawns were well tended, but the building itself needed updating. She lived in the shadow of a multi-storied government housing estate, and she noticed him giving it a cursory glance. A man like Bryce Harrington would deem this a slum.
“Thanks for the lift.”
“My pleasure.” He leaned across and opened the car door for her. “Have a nice evening, and thanks for all the hard work you’ve done for me.” His devastating heart-stopper of a smile nearly caused her to tumble rather than step out of the car.
Caroline entered the small ground-floor apartment she shared with her friend, Kerry Robinson. It wasn’t much, a bedroom, kitchenette, lounge room and bathroom. Kicking off her shoes she dropped her bag on the dressing table in her bedroom, but didn’t bother changing out of her work clothes. With the ink smear on her sleeve from the new typewriter ribbon, her outfit was due for the laundry anyway.
Padding out to the kitchenette in her stocking feet, she peeled vegetables for their dinner, to go with the two steaks thawing on the draining board.
Kerry breezed in at six o’clock. She dropped her bag on the floor and raked her fingers through her short black hair. “Hi! How did your day go with Mr. High-and-Mighty?”
“All right.” Caroline put the steaks in the pan. “He drove me home in his Jaguar.”
“Drove you home? Yeah? How come?”
She filled Kerry in on what happened.
Kerry picked up a saucepan and banged it on the sink. “I might have guessed it would be something like that. He’s never offered to drive you home before. He’s smart enough to realize no other secretary would put up with the crap he dishes out to you. I still say you should leave and get a job somewhere else.”
“I can’t.”
“You’re breaking your heart over him for nothing. There’s no way he’s going to notice you, even if you are his secretary.” Kerry stabbed the air with her forefinger. “You, of all people, know the type of women he associates with and his reputation. Not a week goes by without hi
m adorning the social pages with some model or actress fawning all over him.”
“I know. It’s hopeless.” Caroline closed her eyes to block out the searing pain of unrequited love. Today in the elevator she had been so close to him, her cheek resting on his chest, her nostrils infused with his scent. “I can’t help it. I love him. Just seeing him is better than nothing.” Not seeing him would be purgatory.
“Rubbish. If you left and got another job, in time you’d forget all about him. You should be going out with other guys, not wasting your time mooning over someone as unobtainable as he is.”
Caroline needed to divert her friend from Bryce Harrington, one of the two topics on which they would never agree. The other was the war in Vietnam. “Everything is cooked. Will I dish up now?”
“I’m going to a meeting with Trevor tonight,” Kerry said, getting out the knives and forks. “It’s organized by mothers from the ‘Save our Sons’ movement. Why don’t you come with us?”
“No thanks. I’ll have an early night.”
Caroline liked Trevor. He and Kerry were soul mates, but he was a passionate anti-conscription advocate. With Andy being in the army, she would feel like a traitor if she attended these anti-war rallies.
***
Bryce drove home and parked his car in the underground car park of his apartment building. The elevator whizzed him up to the top floor. From the elevator he strode along the thickly carpeted corridor to his apartment and, once inside, glanced around. In one of his weaker moments he had let his girlfriend at the time, an interior designer, decorate for him. It had cost him a small fortune, not that money mattered. The problem was, he wasn’t impressed with the décor but couldn’t be bothered with the hassles of changing it.
Loosening his tie and shrugging off his jacket, he stepped into his bedroom with its white shag pile carpet. The deep blue velvet drapes at the floor-to-ceiling windows and the matching quilt on his king-sized bed did nothing for him. Women would like it, he supposed. Not that any female had ever stayed here. Dinner was the most he ever offered them, and that was only rarely. He was a selfish bastard but he valued his privacy.
Make Love Not War Page 2
