by Jessica Hart
‘I thought it would make it all much cosier,’ she explained. ‘The office is so dull, I mean, it’s all very tasteful,’ she went on, glancing judiciously around the elegant, well-proportioned room, ‘but it needs some warmth and colour, don’t you think?’
Lorimer looked pointedly at the mass of flowers on her desk. ‘A small vase of flowers is one thing, an entire herbaceous border is another. Was it necessary to get quite so many?’
‘It seemed like a good idea at the time,’ said Skye ingenuously. ‘Besides, I got talking to the lady who runs the flower stall when I got off the bus this morning and I didn’t feel I could walk off with one measly bunch of freesias. Her husband ran off years ago, and she’s got five children to support, not to mention her old father who’s got—’
‘Spare me the details!’ Lorimer held up a hand to interrupt her. ‘I don’t have your burning desire to discover the life history of every passing stranger. Just tell me whether you’re planning to support this unfortunate woman every morning by buying out her entire stall.’
‘Well, every other day is probably enough. Every morning seems a bit excessive.’
‘I’m surprised that would stop you,’ he said acidly. ‘Excess seems to be your middle name. Am I expected to fund you in this charitable effort?’
‘It wouldn’t be that much,’ she cajoled. ‘And the office does look nicer, doesn’t it?’ Lorimer only grunted in reply. ‘I asked Murray if I could claim it out of petty cash,’ she perservered, ‘and he said he was sure you wouldn’t mind. He did say he’d have to check with you first, though,’ she added quickly as Lorimer raised an eyebrow.
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said Lorimer ironically, walking across to his desk and taking off his jacket before he sat down. ‘You seem to have my accountant, as well as everybody else in this place, wrapped around your little finger. Sheila’s just been telling me that you’re organising some kind of staff outing this evening.’
‘We’re just going out for a pizza. I thought it would be nice to get to know everyone socially.’ Skye hesitated in the doorway, watching him roll up his shirt-sleeves as he looked down at the collection of messages she had left on his desk. ‘Do you want to come?’
Lorimer looked up at that, dark brows raised. ‘Me?’
‘Well, you are a member of staff,’ she pointed out.
His eyes rested thoughtfully on her for a moment, and then he returned his attention to the messages. ‘Thank you, but no, thank you. I already have plans for this evening.’
‘Oh.’ Skye felt a little foolish. Of course he would have his own plans. He would have much better things to do than go for a pizza. She wondered what he would be doing, whom he would be with. ‘Er, would you like a cup of coffee?’
‘Thank you,’ said Lorimer absently without looking up from the messages.
Skye went downstairs to the little kitchen in the basement where she found Sheila refilling the percolator. ‘I’m really looking forward to this evening,’ she receptionist said eagerly. ‘We never thought about going out before you came, Skye. Everyone just used to go home after work, and we hardly talked to each other even when we were here. I don’t know why, but everything’s been more fun since you came.’
Wandering over to the window, Skye peered up through railings at the street and the headless legs walking past. It was a damp grey day and the lights had been on in all the offices since early that morning. ‘I asked Lorimer if he wanted to come along this evening,’ she said casually and Sheila nearly dropped the tin of coffee.
‘You didn’t!’
‘Why not?’
‘I wouldn’t have dared,’ whispered Sheila, impressed. ‘You are brave, Skye! I’d be terrified of him if he shouted at me the way he shouts at you.’
‘I usually deserve it,’ said Skye with a frank grin. ‘Anyway he’s not coming, so you can relax. He said he was busy.’
‘Probably,’ Sheila agreed in relief. She began spooning the coffee into the filter. ‘I think he goes out quite a lot.’
Skye fiddled with the mugs. ‘Who with? Has he got a girlfriend?’
‘I don’t know. He’s rather private, isn’t he? I’ve seen him leaving with Moira Lindsay a couple of times. She’s lovely, and they say she plays golf beautifully.’
‘Moira Lindsay?’ The name rang a bell in Skye’s mind. ‘Isn’t she the girl who’s going to take over as Lorimer’s secretary after Christmas?’
Sheila nodded. ‘That’s right. Apparently she’s very good. It’ll be funny without you, though, Skye. You’ve only been here a week and already it’s hard to remember what it was like before you came.’
Skye hardly heard her. She found that she was gripping Lorimer’s mug so tightly that her knuckles were white, and she put it back on the bench with a sharp click. No wonder Lorimer couldn’t wait for these three months to be over so that Moira could come and work for him! How cosy to have his girlfriend and his secretary all rolled into one! He had told her that Moira was exceptionally well-qualified, but she hadn’t appreciated then just how qualified he meant, she thought bitterly.
She was rather quiet as she walked back up the stairs with Sheila, taking the two mugs from the tray as they reached the top. It was just as well she had found out about Moira before she had a chance to do anything silly like falling for Lorimer after all.
Setting her own mug down amid the clutter on her desk, she carried the other carefully into Lorimer’s office. It was very full and her tongue stuck out in concentration as she tried not to slop any of the hot liquid over her hand.
She was halfway across the room when she glanced up to find Lorimer watching her with the same peculiar expression in his eyes that she had seen there before. She stopped, puzzled, and he looked hastily away to pick up his pen.
‘If you didn’t fill the mug up to the brim, you might find it easier to carry,’ he said, but Skye had the feeling that he was almost forcing himself to sound irritated. She leant over the plans spread over his desk to hand him the mug.
‘Careful, it’s hot,’ she warned as he made to take it from her, and he moved his hand round over hers to take the handle. The feel of his skin against hers sent such an unexpected jolt of response through her that she flinched as if she had been stung, and the hot coffee came surging over the rim of the mug on to her fingers.
‘Aagh!’ Instinctively, she whipped her hand away before Lorimer had proper hold of the mug, and it fell with a crack on to the pristine plans, sloshing coffee everywhere.
‘You stupid woman!’ Lorimer thrust back his chair and leapt to his feet before the coffee had a chance to stream into his lap. There was nothing forced about his irritation now! ‘What did you let go for?’
Skye sucked at her scalded fingers. ‘I thought my hand was more important than your plan!’
‘That’s a matter of judgement!’ he said furiously. ‘Look at the mess you’ve made! All these plans will have to be copied again.’ He scrumpled them up together with the coffee and deposited them in the bin while Skye mopped ineffectually at the remaining puddles with some tissues. ‘Here, give me those,’ he said, snatching them out of her hand. ‘You’re just making things worse as usual!’
‘I don’t know why you’re so cross with me,’ said Skye. ‘It was an accident.’
‘There are too many “accidents” when you’re around,’ he snapped. ‘Everything you do ends up a shambles. You’ve only got to look at something for it to break down. The office has been totally chaotic since you arrived, I’ve got work piling up because you’re so slow, you spend your time distracting my staff so nobody’s getting any work done and you’re so inefficient, you can’t even take a message properly!’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Look at these!’ He picked up the sheaf of messages she had left him earlier, now rather damp and coffee-stained, and shook them at her. ‘Half of them are illegible, the other half are so vague as to be unintelligible. You haven’t put a date or a time on any of them, you haven’t tak
en any numbers so that I can call these people back and you do not spell Kirkcudbright K-E-R-K-double O-B-R-Y!’
‘I only spelt it how it sounds,’ Skye objected.
‘You ought to be able to spell it properly!’
‘It’s not my fault if half the towns in Scotland choose to have stupid spellings,’ she muttered. ‘You’d need to be telepathic to know how to spell all of them.’
‘All you’d need is a reference book.’ said Lorimer icily. ‘And a modicum of intelligence, of course—obviously the biggest problem where you are concerned.’ He threw the sodden tissues in the bin. ‘And you have the nerve to complain about photocopiers being a waste of space! At least they don’t throw coffee all over you!’
‘Why don’t you employ a robot, then?’ snapped Skye, losing her temper. ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you? A soulless machine you could shout at to your heart’s content and it would never answer back!’
‘I wouldn’t need to shout at a secretary who had the smallest claim to competence!’
‘Well, you can save your lungs in future,’ said Skye angrily. ‘You don’t need to shout at me any more. I’m leaving!’ Whirling round, she stalked to the door. ‘You can type your own letters till your precious Moira gets here!’ she told him, and went out, slamming the door behind her.
CHAPTER FOUR
PERILOUSLY close to tears, Skye began scrabbling around on her desk and throwing her possessions into her bag. He was a pig! An arrogant, obnoxious pig! She hated him! How could she have come so dangerously near to liking him just because he smiled at her? She must have been mad.
The memory of Lorimer’s smile was so strong that Skye froze in the act of reaching out for her lipstick. Slowly, she sank back into her chair and stared at the flowers she had bought that morning with a perplexed expression. It wasn’t like her to get so upset. She had a naturally sunny nature and criticism usually rolled over her unnoticed, but somehow it had been different today. Lorimer’s comments had caught her on the raw. Was she really that hopeless? Was that why she suddenly cared? Or was it just disappointment at realising that she had been fooling herself when she thought that Lorimer might like her in spite of everything?
Would she have been quite so upset if she hadn’t just learnt about his relationship with Moira Lindsay?
Skye fumbled for a tissue and blew her nose. Why should she care? It was no business of hers what Lorimer did in his spare time, after all. She had made enough of a fool of herself falling in love with one unsuitable, inaccessible man without doing the same thing all over again. No, that was the last thing she needed. What she needed was not to be in love with anyone for a while. Instead, she wanted to try and do a proper job for a change…and she wasn’t going about it the right way, she realised honestly. Shouting at her boss and overreacting to criticism that was all too justified was hardly the behaviour of a dedicated PA.
Looking around her office, Skye accepted that she didn’t want to leave, no matter what she had said to Lorimer. For once in her life, she had found a job that she enjoyed. It would be stupid to storm out because of a few angry words. Charles was irrelevant now; what mattered was her father. Only last night she had spoken to him on the phone, and assured him that he didn’t need to worry about her any longer, that she was still determined to make a success of the job. She couldn’t disappoint him now, especially not when her elder brother had rung her later to confide that their father was having business problems. Skye felt vaguely guilty when she realised that it was the first time any of her brothers had thought to tell her anything like that. In the past they must have assumed that she was too frivolous to understand or care. Her brother’s news had strengthened her determination not to add to her father’s worries. She had been a bad enough daughter as it was. Skye sniffed and blew her nose again.
She looked at the door to Lorimer’s office. He was probably in there rubbing his hands at the thought of getting rid of her. She wouldn’t blame him if he refused to have any more to do with her, but she could only ask him for another chance. The worst he could do was say no.
Squaring her shoulders, Skye gave her nose a final blow, pushed back her chair and got to her feet. She hesitated by the door, and then knocked.
It was opened so suddenly that Lorimer could only have been standing right behind it. For a moment, they stared at each other in silence, her hand still raised from the knock. Sky’s nose was rather pink. Her mouth was still tremulous and her eyes had the shimmering look of unshed tears, but her chin was tilted at a proud angle. She wondered what he had been doing behind the door.
‘Well?’ he said at last.
‘I wanted to apologise,’ said Skye a little uncertainly. Her hand dropped to her side. Everything always seemed easy until Lorimer’s unsettling eyes were on her. ‘You were right, I’m a hopeless secretary but I really will try harder if you’ll give me another chance.’
‘You want to stay?’
‘Yes.’
There was a tiny pause. Lorimer’s eyes held an odd, unreadable expression. ‘If you must know,’ he admitted at last, ‘I was on my out to apologise to you.’
‘You were?’ Skye looked at him in surprise.
‘I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I was thinking about…’ he hesitated ‘…something else, and wasn’t expecting to have hot coffee poured all over me. I’m afraid I took my bad temper out on you. You were right, it was an accident.’ Suddenly, he reached out and took her hand, turning it up so that he could inspect her fingers. ‘Were you badly burnt?’
‘N-no.’ Skye found herself stammering, so conscious was she of the touch of his hand. ‘Not really.’
He was looking down at her hand, his thumb rubbing almost absently over her palm. ‘Sure?’
‘Y-yes.’ She took a deep breath, hardly knowing whether to be relieved or disappointed when he dropped her hand. ‘I’m sorry about your plans.’
‘They can be copied again. Perhaps you could do them this afternoon?’
‘You mean I can stay?’
Lorimer tried to look stern. ‘Well, it would save me finding another secretary,’ he said. ‘It would take me at least another two weeks before I could find anyone to replace you, and even at your speed of typing you could get quite a lot done in that time.’
Skye told herself that she ought to be grateful, but Lorimer wasn’t deceived by her determinedly humble expression, and a reluctant half-smile bracketed his mouth. ‘Oh, all right,’ he said, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets. ‘I’ll admit it. You may be absolutely infuriating, but you do get the job done eventually in your own funny way, and I suppose that in spite of it all I’m getting used to you.’
He was getting used to her! It might not be the most effusive compliment in the world, but it was a start. Skye felt suddenly ridiculously happy.
‘I really will try and be more efficient,’ she assured him, and this time he smiled properly, shaking his head in mock-exasperation.
‘Quite frankly, Skye, you’re trying enough already!’ He turned back to his desk, once more his astringent self. ‘Now that we’ve sorted that out, can we get on with some work?’
‘Of course.’ Skye beamed at him, feeling as if she’d had a last-minute reprieve from some terrible fate. ‘Shall I get you some more coffee?’
‘Thank you,’ he said drily, settling himself behind his desk. ‘Perhaps a tray would be a good idea this time?’
Skye closed the door on him, still smiling idiotically, just as the phone began to ring. She stood with her hand on the receiver for a moment, reluctant to pick it up, wanting to remember instead the way he had smiled, the touch of his hand…
The telephone shrilled insistently beneath her hand and she picked it up with a sigh, unable to ignore it any longer. ‘Hello?’
‘Skye?’
‘Yes?’ she said blankly.
‘It’s Charles…Charles Ferrars.’
‘Oh… Charles… hello.’ A week ago she would have been breathless with excitement at th
e very sound of his voice; now she didn’t even recognise it. There was definitely something wrong with her.
‘You sound a bit vague, Skye.’ Was it her imagination, or was there a peevish note in his voice at her lack of enthusiasm? ‘Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine.’ Skye made an effort to sound bright. ‘Did you want to talk to Lorimer?’
‘Eventually, yes, but I thought it would be nice to have a little chat with you first. I’ve been talking to Fleming about you…I didn’t realise you knew him quite so well.’
Was that why he was suddenly being so friendly? Skye hated herself for being so cynical. ‘I thought you knew,’ she said. ‘We met at one of his parties, after all.’
‘Yes, but there were so many people there. I thought you were just an acquaintance.’
‘No, Fleming and Marjorie are practically family. Marjorie’s my godmother.’
‘So Fleming was telling me.’ Charles’s voice was smooth and assured. ‘We didn’t have much of a chance to talk the other day. What about lunch tomorrow?’
It was the invitation she had longed for. ‘I can’t tomorrow, I’m afraid,’ said Skye. ‘I’ve already arranged to meet Vanessa for lunch.’
There was a tiny pause, as if Charles was waiting for her to say that she would cancel her date with Vanessa so that she could see him instead. ‘What about tomorrow evening, then?’ he suggested at last. ‘I’m hoping to come in and see Lorimer anyway, so we could go on after you finish work.’
‘All right.’ Skye wished she felt more enthusiastic about the idea. She would rather have met Charles away from the office—away from Lorimer’s penetrating blue eyes—but she couldn’t think of a good reason to refuse. Besides, she had decided to give her original plan a chance. Perhaps when she saw Charles again all the old attraction would come flooding back? ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, then, Now, shall I put you through to Lorimer?’
Lorimer, when told who wanted to speak to him, sounded suddenly hard. ‘Ferrars? Oh, yes, I’d forgotten just why you’re so keen to stay here. For a moment there, I really thought you wanted the job.’ He gave a short, bitter laugh. ‘Stupid of me.’
