by Jessica Hart
‘I think they thought I was a bit mad at first, but they’re all terribly nice once you get to know them. Of course, if Lorimer catches me chatting, he simply glowers! I told him he hadn’t said anything about my taking a vow of silence, but he just looked down his nose at me in that infuriating way he has and told me I was there to work and not distract everyone else.’ Skye scowled at the memory. ‘You’d think I’d be allow five minutes off, wouldn’t you? My fingers are worn to the bone retyping all those letters.’
‘I thought you had a word processor?’
‘I do, but I keep forgetting to save things so I have to type it all over again.’ She sighed. ‘I don’t think I’m really cut out to be a secretary. I’ve already broken the photocopier and the coffee-machine and the phone’s an absolute mystery to me. I cut one caller off five times when I was trying to put him through to Lorimer. In the end, I had to take the number and get Lorimer to call him back instead; he was furious.’
‘I’m not surprised!’
‘Well, I don’t know why he can’t have an ordinary phone like everyone else,’ Skye complained. ‘All those flashing lights just confuse me!’
Vanessa grinned at her friend. Skye was sprawled out in front of the electric fire, drinking gin and flicking idly through a glossy magazine. ‘Do you still think Charles is worth it?’
Skye’s fingers stilled and she stared un-seeingly down at an advertisement for shoes so expensive she couldn’t imagine how anyone could ever afford to buy them. ‘Do you know,’ she said slowly, ‘I’d almost forgotten Charles? Lorimer’s kept me so busy I haven’t had time to think about him.’
‘You’re obviously not that much in love with him, then.’
‘Of course I am,’ she protested mechanically, and then looked up at Vanessa with puzzled blue eyes. ‘Aren’t I?’
‘If you ask me, you never have been,’ said Vanessa firmly. ‘I know he’s good-looking, but you don’t really know anything about him, do you? If he hadn’t been so inaccessible, you’d never have given him another thought. As it was, he was a challenge, and, being you, you promptly decided you were madly in love with him, but really he’s quite the wrong sort of man for you.’
‘Oh, dear,’ said Skye with a glum look. ‘And I thought this was it. I must be terribly fickle. Do you think I’ll ever fall in love properly, or will I end up a shrivelled old maid?’
‘I don’t think you need panic just yet,’ said Vanessa drily, eyeing Skye’s vivid face and slender loveliness. ‘All you need is to find the right kind of man.’
‘Yes, but where?’
‘What about at work? This Lorimer Kingan sounds suitably masterful.’
Skye practically choked over her drink. ‘Lorimer?’ she spluttered.
‘Why not?’
‘Well, he’s…he’s…’ Skye floundered, conscious of a strangely hollow feeling deep inside her. It was as if Vanessa’s suggestion had opened a yawning black hole at her feet and she was afraid to look down in case she found what was waiting at the bottom of it.
‘He’s what?’ said Vanessa, all innocence.
‘He’s insufferable! He’s a bully. He’s arrogant and grumpy and sarcastic and horrible. Honestly, Van, he treats me as if I were a five-year-old—and not a particularly bright one at that!’
Vanessa smiled smugly. ‘He sounds perfect for you,’ she said.
Fall in love with Lorimer! What a perfectly ridiculous idea! He was the last kind of man she was likely to fall for, Skye told herself huffily, but the more she tried to dismiss the idea, the more the memory of his mouth and his smile tugged at the edge of her mind with that queer stab of excitement. It left her feeling so cross and restless that Vanessa bullied her into a brisk walk up to the tip of Arthur’s Seat on Sunday afternoon.
‘What you need is a bit of exercise.’
Skye stood on the top of the crags and looked down at Edinburgh spread out below her. It was a chill, blowy day and the city had a grey, huddled look, as if crouching out of the cutting wind. Above it, the castle loomed gauntly out of its rock, impervious to the cold.
Turning up her collar against the wind, Skye shivered. She had been so convinced that Charles was all she wanted, but all it had taken was one light-hearted suggestion from Vanessa to turn all her ideas upside-down. There must be something wrong with her, she decided glumly. Vanessa was right. She was far too impetuous. No one else would have dreamt of chasing up to Edinburgh after a man she hardly knew, but she had gaily waved aside all objections. None of her friends liked Charles; that should have been a warning, but would she listen? No, she had just plunged into another fine mess, without thinking about anyone else who might be involved.
She had practically forced Lorimer into giving her the job, and all for what? Just so she could be near a man she now wasn’t at all sure she really wanted. No wonder Lorimer was so contemptuous of her! Skye sighed into the wind, remembering the exasperated expression he habitually wore whenever he looked at her. Perhaps she should just admit that she had been stupid and go back to London? Lorimer would probably be delighted.
Skye thought about leaving Edinburgh as they trudged down the hill and back across The Meadows, heads bent against the wind. She had been moaning about the job, but now that she thought about leaving it she found that she really quite liked being busy. Her previous bosses had all liked her, but thought her so hopeless that she had only ever been given mindless jobs to do before; Lorimer might not like her very much, but at least she hadn’t had any time to be bored.
And she liked the other people at work: Sheila the receptionist, Murray the accountant, Lisa and Rab and Andrew in the marketing department… it would be a shame to leave just as she was getting to know them all. Her mind flickered to Lorimer and then firmly away. She didn’t want to think about how she would feel about not seeing him again.
Anxious to change the direction of her thoughts, Skye reminded herself of her father. As Fleming had predicted, he had been absolutely delighted to hear that she had found herself what he considered to a ‘proper job’ at long last. She suspected that he hadn’t really believed her when she had vowed to stand on her own two feet, and it had been nice to show him that she had meant what she had said. Whatever happened, Charles had done her a favour in making her realise how spoilt she had always been. She had come to Edinburgh to change her life, and there was no reason why she shouldn’t still do that. Deciding that she wasn’t in love with Charles after all didn’t mean that she had to disappoint her father and run home to carry on exactly as she had before. No, she owed her father more than that.
There was Vanessa to consider, too. If she left now, Vanessa would have to find someone else to share her flat, and Skye knew that she would miss her sturdy, practical friend. She would be reluctant to leave Edinburgh, too, she realised. In spite of the cold, the city had style. Much to her own surprise, Skye had found that she liked its dignified presence, the cobbled streets and the narrow closes and the smoky-grey light.
No, she wouldn’t leave Edinburgh yet. She had been letting Vanessa’s stupid suggestion get to her because she was tired, that was all. She should have just laughed it off, instead of letting herself imagine with quite such startling clarity just what it would be like to be in love with Lorimer, to be loved by him. She wished she wouldn’t keep thinking about his mouth, about how it would feel against hers. How could she even consider the idea barely five minutes after being convinced that she was in love with Charles? Overwork, she told herself.
It would be stupid to make yet another impulsive decision. For once, Skye decided virtuously, she would think before she acted. She would see how she felt at the end of next week. Things might be different. She wouldn’t let Lorimer work her so hard, and somehow she would arrange to meet Charles. Who knew? Face to face, all the old magic might come flooding back. It might have been silly to come here, but it would be even sillier to go without even giving Charles a chance.
‘Stupid machine!’ Skye kicked the photocopier in frus
tration. ‘The engineer only came yesterday…you can’t have broken already!’ She jabbed at every button she could find, but the paper-jam symbol remained ob stinately red. ‘What’s wrong with you?’ she shouted, thumping the start button again. ‘I’ve filled the paper tray, I’ve cleared the rollers, now what’s the matter?’
The machine just sat there, dumb insolence written all over it, and Skye gave it another vindictive kick. ‘There is no paper jam, you useless lump of metal! I’ve cleared it, so you can just work!’
‘What on earth are you doing, Skye?’ Lorimer’s exasperated voice behind her made Skye swing round in confusion. He was standing in the doorway of her office, almost filling it with his massive frame, an expression of profound irritation on his face.
Skye’s mouth dried at the sight of him. It had been the same all day yesterday, when she had been absurdly conscious of him. It was all Vanessa’s fault, Skye thought crossly. If it hadn’t been for that absurd suggestion, she would never have spent the whole of Monday noticing how broad his shoulders were, or how competent his hands. She wouldn’t have noticed the pulse that beat in his throat or given a second thought to the way he rubbed his jaw when he was thinking. As it was, once she had started to notice, she couldn’t stop noticing, and the odd sensation in the pit of her stomach whenever her eyes fell on his mouth left her feeling edgy and unusually irritable.
He had told her last night that he would be going straight to a meeting this morning, and she hadn’t been expecting him in yet. Determined to show him that she could be efficient for once, she had planned to have all these reports beautifully copied and bound before he arrived, but the photocopier had refused to co-operate and now all she had done was manage to look foolish again.
She sighed. ‘Your beastly photocopier is refusing to work.’
‘It’s a machine, Skye, not a monster,’ said Lorimer testily. ‘It’s not refusing, it just hasn’t been given the right instructions.’
‘It’s sulking,’ Skye insisted, sulking, and aimed another kick at it.
‘You’re not going to get anywhere by kicking it or shouting at it,’ Lorimer pointed out in a crisp voice. He dropped his briefcase on her desk and came over to push her firmly out of the way. ‘This used to be a nice, quiet office before you came along. Now Princes Street seems like a haven of peace compared to having you around. Why do you have to make such a fuss about everything? You don’t seem to be able to do anything quietly. You’re either talking or laughing or ranting and raving at inanimate objects. I could hear you as soon as I came in the door!’
‘You’d rant and rave if you had to deal with this machine,’ said Skye bitterly. ‘I don’t know why people bother to have photocopiers. They’re nothing but useless, expensive bits of machinery. They never work. They never do anything. They’re not even pretty to look at! They just sit there wasting space, and as soon as you ask them to do a tiny bit of photocopying, which is what they’re there for, they simply break down!’
‘I’m surprised you don’t identify with them,’ said Lorimer with an ironic look. ‘Expensive, useless, breaking down at the merest suggestion of work…it all sounds horribly familiar.’ He glanced down at Skye’s indignant face. ‘You’re much more decorative, I agree, but at least photocopiers aren’t hopelessly distracting!’
‘At least I work, which is more than you can say for this machine!’ Skye said, bridling at the idea of being compared so unfavourably to a machine.
Lorimer gave a long-suffering sigh. ‘What exactly is the problem?’
‘I’m trying to collate these reports,’ she said, pushing a few wayward curls away from her face. ‘I was going to have them all ready for when you came back, and I was halfway through when the machine suddenly jammed. I cleared it all out, just like Sheila showed me, but now it won’t start.’
‘These machines are usually self-explanatory…’ Lorimer frowned down at the panel of lights, while Skye peeked over his shoulder, longing to see him realise that he couldn’t work it either. She watched as he read the instructions from start to finish and then pressed a button.
The machine promptly leapt into life.
‘It did that deliberately!’ Skye exploded. ‘I’ve already tried that button!’
‘It’s all a matter of touch,’ said Lorimer drily. ‘It would be nice to think I could control you that easily.’ Their heads were still bent together over the panel, and his eyes were very close. Skye looked into their dark blue depths and read exasperation and glimmering amusement and something else she couldn’t identify, something that set her heart slamming painfully against her ribs. She was overwhelmingly conscious of the hard, unyielding strength of his body so hear to hers, and her skin burned with a sudden urgent need to lean against him and feel his arms close abut her.
Appalled at the way her thoughts were leading her, Skye stepped abruptly away from him. Lorimer straightened too, turning to look at her and then peer more closely as the jerk of her head set her earrings swinging wildly.
‘What on earth have you got hanging from your ears?’ he asked incredulously, reaching out to take one between his thumb and finger. ‘Golf balls?’
Skye was agonisingly aware of his fingers brushing her earlobe, of his warm hand near her throat. ‘Do you like them?’ she said huskily. Her pulse was drumming so loudly in her ears that she was hardly aware of what she was saying. It was if she could feel his glancing, impersonal touch with every fibre of her body. Even the pale blonde hair tangling softly over his fingers seemed to quiver with awareness.
‘They certainly make a change from your usual menagerie,’ Lorimer said. Skye loved eccentric jewellery and had an enormous collection of brightly painted wooden earrings which she wore with panache. ‘So far we’ve had parrots, crocodiles, kangaroos and dolphins… I never know what’s going to walk into the room every morning! What was it yesterday? Snakes?’
‘Bananas,’ Skye croaked, and to her enormous relief he let go of her earrings and stepped back. ‘I saw these golf balls yesterday lunchtime,’ she said, babbling with nerves. ‘I couldn’t resist them. I thought they’d be very appropriate for your PA.’
The look of amusement in Lorimer’s eyes deepened. She had made an ineffectual attempt to keep the mop of pale gold curls away from her forehead with two plastic clips in the shape of a butterfly, and multicoloured butterflies were appliqued all over the huge peacock-blue sweatshirt she wore with bright green leggings. She looked vibrant and gaudy and utterly out of place.
‘I can think of many words to describe your outfits, Skye,’ he said, ‘but “appropriate” is not one of them!’
‘I suppose you’d like me in a sensible skirt, navy cardigan and pearl earrings?’
‘It would be more restful than your usual wardrobe.’ he agreed. ‘It’s like being in the same room as a firework that’s about to go off.’ Unexpectedly, he grinned. ‘I keep waiting for the bang!’
Unprepared for the effect of his sudden smile, Skye’s heart did a complete somersault and landed with a thump that took her breath away. It was the first time he had smiled properly at her; the brief glimpse of humour at that ill-fated interview was as nothing compared to the transformation now, as the stern mouth relaxed into a smile that showed strong white teeth and dissolved the severe angles of his face into warmth and humour and dazzling, dangerous charm.
‘I—I’m afraid I haven’t got any sensible clothes,’ said Skye with a gasp, struggling to sound normal and terrified in case he would guess that a simple smile was enough to melt her bones and set every nerve in her body tingling.
‘I didn’t think you would have,’ said Lorimer, still amused. ‘Oh, well, I suppose we’ll just have to get used to you the way you are.’
There was a pause, a sudden intensity in the air as, half reluctantly, Skye’s eyes met his. They were so blue, so deep, a smile still lurking there. Could it be that Lorimer was beginning to accept her after all? The hope cheered her, and without thinking she smiled back at him, a warm, spontaneou
s smile that lit her whole face, but when she saw the expression that flared in Lorimer’s eyes it faltered and faded. Had she been mistaken? She had been so glad at the idea that he might have begun to like her, but his expression was so strange now that she wasn’t so sure.
Confused, she jerked her eyes away from his and cleared her throat. ‘I’ll—er—put these reports together, shall I?’
‘Yes, I’d like them to go off today.’ Lorimer moved away from the photocopier to let her lean down and collect the copies from the trays. When she straightened, clutching them to her chest, he was still watching her with that same odd expression in his eyes, but at her puzzled look he turned abruptly and went over to collect his briefcase from her desk.
As usual, it was covered in a litter of papers, files, dictionaries, manuals, maps and notebooks, interspersed with pens and emery boards, lipsticks and computer disks, bottles of Tippex and boxes of tissues and bars of chocolate. ‘I don’t know how you can work in this mess,’ he said, surveying the clutter irritably. ‘No wonder you keep losing things. And what are all these flowers doing here?’ His gaze sharpened suddenly as he glanced at her. ‘Are they from Charles Ferrars?’
‘No.’ Skye was amazed that the thought should even occur to him. ‘I bought them.’ She found that she was still breathlessly clutching the copies and relaxed her hold, relieved to be dealing with an astringent Lorimer again. He was so much more familiar like this, more familiar and much less disturbing than the warm, attractive man who had smiled at her so suddenly. In fact, he was so much like his usual self that she even began to wonder whether she had imagined the electric charge in the atmosphere as they stared at each other.
With an effort, Skye recovered her composure. ‘Didn’t you see the flowers on Sheila’s desk? I bought some for Reception, some for in here and some for your office.’ She threw open the door and showed him his desk, now resplendent with a huge vase full of Michaelmas daisies.
Lorimer looked at them and then at Skye as if she had gone mad. ‘What for?’ Yes, he was definitely back to normal.
