One-Click Buy: November Harlequin Presents (47 page)

The lift doors pinged behind her, and without taking her eyes from his she positioned herself closer so that this time when the doors opened she'd be far enough away from him that there'd be no chance she'd be wrong-footed.

‘I told you having dinner together was a bad idea. What happened just now was an even worse one.'

The doors slid open behind her and she made for the welcoming depths, punching the ground floor and close buttons simultaneously. They still took too long, and it seemed an eternity before it was just the memory of his damning scowl and open-footed gunslinger stance that had threatened to buckle her knees.

Sanity returned to Maverick with the closing of the doors. Sanity and fury. What the hell had he been thinking? She was his PA, for heaven's sake. How could a couple of long legs and hazel eyes have made him suddenly and so easily forget that?

He tugged on his tie and wheeled around. Not just long legs, though. Sensational legs. And eyes that seemed to peer right inside him. What had they seen? What was it that had made her flee like the demons of hell were after her?

Damn it, but he was determined to find out.

The phone was ringing when she entered the flat. She threw keys and bag to one side and dived for the phone in the same rapid motion.

‘Morgan!' she cried into the receiver.

There was a pause.

‘Is that you, Morgan?'

Tegan's heart skipped a beat as she screwed her face into a silent scream. What had she just done?

‘Maverick. Why are you calling?'

‘Is something wrong?'

‘I just got in. I'm just a bit breathless.' She collapsed into an armchair and held on tight, praying he would accept her explanation.

‘You've only just got home? You should have let me drive you.'

Tegan let go a sigh of relief. It made sense that someone like Maverick wouldn't have a clue how long it took to get anywhere when you relied on public transport.

‘I didn't want you to. Was there something you wanted?'

There was a pause. ‘Just to make sure you made it home all right.'

‘I'm home. I'm safe,' she said, feeling one hell of a lot safer now that she was away from him.

‘Look, Morgan, about what happened—'

‘Thanks for calling,' she said with false brightness. ‘But, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather forget what happened.' And she terminated the call.

Nobody
hung up on Maverick. Not company directors or corporate wheeler-dealers or any of his women friends. And least of all his own PA. He fought back the urge to call right back and tell Miss Sassy Mouth exactly that, but he hadn't got to where he was in business by necessarily acting on his first flush of fury.

Besides, maybe she was doing him a favour. She was his PA, after all. He didn't do PAs. His self-imposed rule that he never got involved with a member of his staff was there for a very good reason.

Bitterness rose up like bile in his throat. How anyone could have done what Tina had done…

But, given that she had, he should have known better and left Morgan well enough alone.

He dragged air into lungs that had seen one hell of a crazy weekend. A flight to Milan on Saturday to conclude their deal, only to have the entire journey aborted halfway at the sad news of Giuseppe's collapse, and his return to Australia on the first available flight. Since then he'd been embroiled in planning the negotiations necessary to shore up the inroads they had made, all of which had been compounded by the added aggravation of a PA who seemed to have undergone a personality transplant.

Tomorrow things would be back to normal. He'd see to the Rogerson deal and ensure that the one loose end of the deal was tied up, in preparation for when Zeppabanca was ready to proceed once again.

And by tomorrow Morgan might have slept off whatever strange affliction had affected her today and be back to her normal self, so he could concentrate on work without the constant distractions. He could hardly wait.

‘H
EY
,
Tiggy! How's it going?'

Tegan breathed a sigh of relief at her sister's familiar greeting. She'd approached the ringing phone with a mixture of trepidation and fear, picking it up warily, and not game this time to second guess who the caller was. She wasn't making that mistake again.

‘Morgan, it's a disaster. You have to get back here right away.'

‘Why, what's wrong?'

‘Maverick, that's what's wrong.'

A split second of silence answered the announcement. ‘What do you mean? He's in Milan all week. How can he be a problem?'

‘Giuseppe Zeppa had a heart attack. The Zeppabanca deal is on ice, at least for the time being. Maverick is here.'

‘Oh, hell. So what happened?'

‘I told you, it's a total disaster. You have to come back straight away.'

‘You mean he knows?'

‘He knows something isn't right.'

Another pause.

‘But he doesn't actually
know
you're not me?'

‘Not yet, but he's here. Isn't that bad enough? I can't do this, Morgan. It was a crazy enough plan to pretend to be you when he was away, but now that Maverick's here it's impossible!'

‘But Bryony's wedding is tomorrow! I can't leave now.'

‘So why does she have to get married on a Tuesday, anyway—and all the way over in Hawaii? Why couldn't she just get married at her local church like any normal person?'

‘You've met Bryony. She just likes to be different. It's going to be a gorgeous wedding. I really want to thank you for doing this for me so I can be here for it.'

‘Stop thanking me! You can't abandon me like this—not with Maverick here. There's no way it will work.'

‘Hey, you promised me, remember?'

‘But that was before—and you know I was never happy about the idea anyway. But now it's hopeless. You have to come back, don't you see?'

There was silence at the other end of the line. ‘Morgan?'

‘Sorry, sis, I was thinking. Look, even if I did manage to get a ticket and leave on the first flight tomorrow, then I still wouldn't make it back to work before Wednesday…'

‘And?'

‘And that means you'll have been working with him for two days already by then.'

‘Which is two days too long!'

‘But the chances are, if he didn't twig to our switch today, then…'

Panic flared in Tegan's gut. ‘And what makes you think he won't twig to it tomorrow?'

‘Look, it makes sense. If you made it through today with him convinced you were me, then he'll just assume it's business as usual tomorrow.'

‘But in any case you'll be back the next day, then?'

‘Well, I kind of figure that if you can make it through two days in the job you'll be a shoe-in for the week.'

‘No! You don't understand. I can't work with him.'

‘I know he can be difficult, but I know you—you can do it.'

‘Morgan, it's not exactly the work I'm worried about.'

Tegan coiled the phone cord around her finger nervously while she waited for her sister to respond.

‘What do you mean?' Morgan said at last.

‘Listen, I know you've always referred to him as the boss from hell, so this may seem like a silly question, but has Maverick ever tried to come on to you?'

Unrestrained laughter met her question. ‘You must be kidding! The kind of woman Maverick goes for socially is hardly his PA. He made that plain when I took the job. “Don't get ideas,” he told me flat at the interview. “Because you'll be out of here on your ear before you know it.” And that suits me fine. He's really not my type.'

But that made no sense, Tegan reasoned. Maverick had been coming on to Morgan tonight—hadn't he?

‘So, you mean he's never shown any interest in you?'

‘Of course not. What's happened, Tiggy, do you think he made a pass at you or something?'

Tegan winced. Normally she'd tell her sister everything, but there was no way she was about to confess to everything that had happened tonight. ‘Well, maybe something like that.'

‘Then forget it. Maverick isn't like that. It's one of his mantras.
Don't mess with the PA
. Apparently it happened once before and ended badly, and he's never forgiven the woman. And he's made sure he's never let himself get into the same position. So don't worry. Whatever it is, you've probably just blown it out of all proportion.'

If only.
But, then again, if what Morgan said was right maybe Maverick was already regretting that kiss. Maybe that was why he'd rung—to apologise and to promise her it wouldn't happen again.
And she'd all but hung up on him.
Tegan squeezed her eyes shut at the memory. Well, at any rate, that would help convince him he'd been right not to mess with his staff.

Tegan let her sister prattle on about the wedding plans and the weather and the gorgeous scenery. She had to admit she couldn't in all honesty begrudge her sister the good time. Morgan deserved it, after all she'd done to look after their father in his last months. When she hadn't been working flat out for Maverick, she'd been helping their father. She'd shut herself off from the world and she deserved this chance for a break.

If only Maverick had been able to see that, and had approved Morgan's request for leave, it would have saved them all some grief.

Tegan was already at work the next day when Maverick arrived. She flicked him no more than a frosty glance, with a cool ‘Good morning' to keep it company, and continued typing up what looked like the agenda for this morning's meeting that he'd left on her desk last night.

Likewise he didn't hesitate as he breezed past her into his office. She might want to pretend that kiss last night had never happened, but he'd already forgotten about it.

He threw himself into his chair, took one look at his desk and swung his chair around so he faced the golden strip of beach and sapphire sea instead. He was still there when there was a knock on the door ten minutes later.

‘Sorry, am I interrupting?'

He swung around and let go a gruff ‘No,' designed to sound like a ‘yes'.

‘That agenda you wanted,' she said, approaching his desk without looking at him. ‘And the mail.'

Today she had on another of those God-awful suits again, this time some bland coffee colour. It was probably a decent suit, except that it somehow managed to disguise every curve he knew was hidden away underneath.
Knew
, because he'd had a taste of them last night.

She dropped the papers on his desk and turned, and he almost growled. Even the back view gave nothing away. His gaze lowered, and he felt his brow knit into a frown. So she'd dispensed with her experiment with lace-topped nothingness and reverted to the heavy-artillery leg camouflage. It was unnecessary, given he wasn't interested, but probably a wise move. At least she wouldn't inadvertently provide any distractions during their meetings today.

‘Morgan,' he said, leaning forward in his chair to pick up the prepared agenda.

She stilled at the door and half turned, staring at a spot on the floor. ‘Yes?'

‘Make sure Rogerson's people get a copy of this before the meeting,' he said, holding up the agenda. ‘And I'll need you at the meeting to take minutes. I'll be leaving in an hour. Can you be ready?'

Her eyes lifted, frosted cola and lime that should have chilled him to the core, but only served to make his blood boil long after she'd snipped out a single ‘Fine' and left the room.

It was good she was back to something approaching what he expected of her in terms of her efficiency, but she couldn't have given him a clearer or louder ‘hands off' signal. And did she really think that was entirely necessary? Did she really think he was going to come anywhere near her again after what had happened?

Not likely!

‘Rogerson's a tough old bird,' Maverick explained while he negotiated his obsidian-black Mercedes SLK convertible north along the Gold Coast Highway. ‘Very old-school. He was nervous about the deal before Giuseppe's collapse. Now he's liable to back out completely if we don't offer some assurance that the deal will go ahead.'

Tegan took Maverick's explanation to mean that Morgan and Rogerson had never met. As it was, she could hardly ask. She'd spent much of yesterday explaining why she was doing things differently. Today she was determined to show him that the old Morgan he knew was back in business.

So she pressed herself back in the luxurious leather upholstery, surrounded by the type of man-toy extravagance she'd forever associate with this man. She tried hard to ignore the smell of fine leather which combined with Maverick's signature scent into a heady combination featuring key notes of power, wealth and testosterone, intoxicating characteristics that wound their way into her psyche despite her best efforts. Beguiling. Alluring.
Dangerous.

But he would not affect her; she wouldn't let him. Today was back to business, pure and simple. And, from his behaviour so far, Maverick was in total agreement with her on that.

‘So what happens if Rogerson won't play ball?' she asked, looking out the window so she didn't have to be reminded of the way his trousers moulded to the lean muscled length of his legs. ‘Or he does, and the worst happens and the Zeppabanca deal never gets off the ground?'

He smoothly changed lanes and overtook another vehicle. ‘It will go ahead, I have no doubt. But Rogerson had another two parties courting them with major building proposals before I put this deal with Zeppabanca to them. Those parties would be only too happy to have a second bite at the cherry and sign him up now. That's what we have to act to prevent today—to ensure Rogerson is still in place for when we do go ahead.'

‘But surely he needs you more than you need him? There are plenty of other builders out there.'

‘True, but I don't want them. I want Rogerson. I trust him. He may be conservative, but he's unscrupulously honest, and in this business that's worth more than gold. Plus he builds to quality, not to a price, so there'll be no risk of him cost cutting in an attempt to improve his margin. And that's the kind of partner we need. Royalty Cove is going to be the Gold Coast's sovereign building development of the decade. It has to be done properly.'

He steered the car off the main road into a side street lined with medium-sized office buildings, pulling into a car park behind one bearing the signage of
Rogerson Developments
.

‘Very modest,' she said, climbing from the car, noting the difference between this industrial estate and the glittering high rise that made up the centre of the Gold Coast business precinct.

‘That's Phil Rogerson for you. You'd never know he was a multi-millionaire in his own right.'

And she wouldn't have picked it either, when a few minutes later she was led into a boardroom headed by a wiry grey-haired man wearing a battered blue cardigan that had seen better days. His high leathery brow was criss-crossed with a deep pattern that bore witness to years of frowning on building sites under the hot Queensland sun, and his broad nose and bushy eyebrows screamed character. It was only the piercing blue eyes that suggested this man wasn't as old or as past it as he first seemed. And there was something else that perplexed her, a familiarity with his features, something that immediately had her mind searching for answers even though she was almost certain she'd never met him before.

He wrapped her hand in his own large, callused version and welcomed her to the meeting, his beaming smile deepening the grooves arcing from his nose to the corners of his mouth and beyond.

‘Delighted to meet you at last,' he told her. ‘Maverick seems to have you permanently chained to that office. Though now I can see why. I'm glad we gave him the opportunity to set you free at last.'

When the older man smiled, his weathered face dropped about ten years, and he looked more like a young granddad than the sun-dried successful builder he was. She couldn't help but smile back, and not only because he'd just put her mind at rest over whether Morgan had ever met him. Though it didn't go anywhere near solving the mystery of why he should look somewhat familiar.

The lawyers arrived along with Maverick's team of finance people, and in the next few minutes the various teams were introduced and settled around the long board-table, jugs of water and a tray of glasses jostling for space between the stacks of papers.

Tegan found herself seated alongside Maverick at one end of the table with Phil Rogerson at the other, but even with a dozen or so others present it was like being trapped in the car with him all over again. It was his aura that surrounded her, it was his heat that turned her own thermostat on to a slow burn. And his legs seemed to be everywhere under the table, impossibly long, impossibly restless, several times brushing against hers, until the only way she could avoid contact was to jam her legs tightly around the chair leg farthest from him.