Книга - Promoted: Secretary to Bride!

Promoted: Secretary to Bride!
Jennie Adams


Mousy Molly Taylor has always been half in love with her boss! What was I thinking? As if a new dress and a pair of borrowed hopes-and-dreams shoes were going to get me noticed by my scrummy boss! After all, he has barely looked at me in the last three years, so why should he now? But last night, after Jarrod drove me home from that posh work party, things seemed different, and for one crazy moment I felt sure he was going to kiss me!Oh, well, it will be back to business on Monday, and everything will go back to normal… But Molly’s boss has other things on his agenda!Nine to Five From city girl to corporate wife!







Jarrod’s gaze dipped, trailed over her shoulders and lower, and came back to her face. ‘You looked stunning.’

Molly should remind him that she didn’t fit in, or play down his praise, but instead she couldn’t concentrate on anything but his nearness, and how much she wanted his kiss as his hazel eyes darkened and intent came into his features. Instead she said, ‘I’m…glad you liked the dress.’

‘I liked it a lot.’ His fingers crushed the soft fabric against her skin as he cupped her shoulders. His knee touched hers as he turned more fully towards her. And then his hands were on skin alone—shoulders, back—in the lightest touch that still managed to hold her.

‘Why did I never see you?’ He whispered the words, as though if he spoke them aloud the spell would be broken. ‘Why can’t I stop seeing you now?’

Molly wanted to be seen. Oh, she did. And she wanted his kiss. And at last his lips came down to cover hers.


Australian author Jennie Adams grew up in a rambling farmhouse surrounded by books, and by people who loved reading them. She decided at a young age to be a writer, but it took many years and a lot of scenic detours before she sat down to pen her first romance novel. Jennie is married, with two adult children, and has worked in a number of careers and voluntary positions, including transcription typist and pre-school assistant. Jennie makes her home in a small inland city in New South Wales. In her leisure time she loves long, rambling walks, starting knitting projects that she rarely finishes, chatting with friends, trips to the movies, and new dining experiences.

Jennie loves to hear from her readers, and can be contacted via her website at www.jennieadams.net



Dear Reader

Sometimes it takes a transformation for us to see what’s been in front of us right from the start. That’s how it is for Jarrod Banning when he draws Molly Taylor deep into his world to help him sort out a problem—and ends up creating some problems of a whole other kind for himself.

Molly is a special heroine, with a unique kind of family. They’re all about fairytale dreams as a harmless means of escape from their very ordinary lives. Molly wants only to keep her feet on the ground for everyone, and she’s done a good job—despite working for a ‘dream boss’ for the past three years. She’s rather concerned when the rules suddenly change!

I hope you enjoy visiting sunny Queensland with me—the real bits and the fictitious bits—as Molly and Jarrod’s story unfolds.

Love and hugs from Australia

Jennie




PROMOTED: SECRETARY TO BRIDE!


BY

JENNIE ADAMS




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


For Laura Hamby,

with thanks for the sanity-saving IM chats, the

daily doses of ‘And Today’s Whinge Is’, the title

brainstorming, Cupid, the e-card, the secret spook and

the many M&Ms—especially the peanut butter ones.

Consider yourself publicly outed for niceness above

and beyond the call of duty!


CHAPTER ONE

‘THAT’S a very generous invitation, Mr Allonby.’ An invitation that took geek-girl Molly Taylor completely by surprise. She wanted to assure the man there was nothing wrong with her boss’s business whatsoever. There couldn’t be! And yet the man sounded so sure.

Molly’s gaze moved past him, to the view outside the fourteenth-floor windows of the Brisbane office that housed Banning Financial Services. The Australian sky was as bright a blue as ever, the buildings in the cityscape as tall, the river area below as wide and calm.

Yet a few words from this stranger and Molly’s cheerful, all-but-perfect world—if you ignored the few niggling things that weren’t so perfect about it—didn’t feel quite so bright and secure after all.

What if Allonby was correct, and Jarrod’s business was in deep trouble? Allonby was offering her a job, but nothing could compensate for having to walk away from her boss.

‘You’ve taken me by surprise.’ She turned back to face the man, smoothed a few strands of dark-brown hair back into the ponytail that had a tendency to slip its moorings when she least expected it. One long, slim finger pushed her funky black-framed glasses farther up her nose as she stared at the middle-aged man.

‘I’m sure what you’ve heard must be some sort of mistake.’ It had to be. Molly’s boss loved the challenge of investing enormous amounts of money in complicated portfolios for a diversity of wealthy clients, and he was really, really good at it.

‘I can only assure you what I’ve been told came from reliable sources.’ Though they were alone in the middle of what was both Molly’s office and the reception area for the business, her boss was only a closed door away from them.

A fact Peter Allonby must have considered, because he leaned forward and lowered his voice. ‘Even billionaires can get into difficulty. They simply have more at stake if that happens.’

‘Ah, well, I’d guessed millions, actually.’ And this was not a topic for open discussion either way. ‘I’m afraid I know very little about my boss’s finances,’ Molly said primly.

Oh, she knew of the Banning family wealth. Everyone had heard of the long-established Road Ten furnishings. And Molly knew her boss had worked in the family business for some time before striking out on his own. He had told her that much of his history when he’d employed her, but as for his own business situation now—could he be in difficulty? It seemed absurd, but, if he was, how and why?

Molly met Allonby’s gaze. ‘Could you tell me who gave you this information?’

The man cleared his throat. ‘I learned of it from several different people among my society associates and colleagues.’

Not an original source, by the sound of it, nor one he would divulge, but of concern anyway.

Allonby dipped his head. ‘My interest right now is in securing your services if the opportunity arises to do so.’

‘That’s very flattering, though I’m not sure why you would want me “sight unseen”, so to speak.’ A few short steps took her to her desk. She plopped into the seat and laid her hands on the familiar wood surface.

‘I like to keep my eyes and ears open. I’ve heard Banning mention his satisfaction with your skills.’ The man murmured it as though in enticement.

All Molly heard was that her boss had praised her. Her heart suddenly churned with all sorts of silly feelings, the greatest of which was a completely out-of-proportion pleasure that Jarrod had mentioned her at all.

Settle down! So what if Jarrod talked you up at some point? Maybe you’d done a good job of picking up his dry cleaning for him that day!

A light disappeared on the new interoffice phone-system, indicating her boss had ended a call. Another light came on.

Molly didn’t recognise this light. She and Jarrod had installed the phone system less than an hour ago. It still needed to be properly coded and labelled, but nothing was ringing…

Allonby came forward. He drew a business card from his pocket and dropped it onto her desk. ‘I know Banning would demand a lot of you in this working environment, and I feel you’d be an asset to my company. Consider my offer.’

Molly lifted her gaze from the business card. ‘I’ll consider what you’ve said.’ Right after she got rid of him and asked Jarrod what the heck was going on.

Allonby smiled politely and left the office a moment later. Molly slumped in front of her computer. Yes. Brave thoughts. Just march up to her boss and start hammering out questions about his finances.

She wanted to contact her mum, or Aunt Izzy or Faye. They worried her sometimes. In fact, they all but drove her demented with their disregard for the future, but they were also her nearest and dearest.

Well, Molly couldn’t ring or text any of them. Not now. Not about this. She should stop relying on them so much anyway.

Jarrod’s office door opened, and he strode out and caught her eyes with a blazing gaze of grey and green and yellow. His face was tight, his dark hair ruffled as though he’d run his hand through it. A muscle twitched at the base of his jaw.

‘Get your bag.’ His brows drew down as he waved his hand towards her desk drawer. ‘We’re going to lunch early. We need to talk.’

‘All right. I guess there’s nothing here that can’t wait.’ It was a little early, but her boss was rather irritable, and Molly didn’t want to think his need to ‘talk’ might have something to do with business troubles. Even so, she asked, ‘Was—was your phone call with Mr Daniels problematic?’

Molly grabbed her purse, and almost had to trot to keep up with him as he locked them out of the office and strode towards the building’s lift.

‘Did Daniels’s call trouble me?’ He gave a bark of unamused laughter as he jabbed the lift’s button for ground level. ‘You could say that, among other things.’

They had the lift to themselves. Molly watched him from the corner of her eye.

A powerful businessman, in tailored beige trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms. His mind for figures and investment strategy amazed her. He was aggressive sometimes, that was true, but when he gave himself to something that mattered to him he did it utterly, and Molly…

Well, it didn’t matter how that made her feel, did it? But it made it hard to believe he could get his finances into horrible trouble. She fiddled with the catch of her purse until they disembarked and hit the busy central business district street.

‘I heard your discussion with Allonby through the intercom on the new phone-system. His offer of a job.’ Her boss bit out this announcement as they made their way through the crowd.

‘You did?’ She squeaked the words and had to clear her throat. ‘I guess I know what that particular red light means on the phone now.’

‘Quite.’ Jarrod took her elbow to guide her to the entrance of a waterside café. ‘Did you—?’

‘No.’ No. She would never simply agree to leave him. ‘I wanted him to go so I could ask you what’s going on, but I wasn’t sure how to tackle it. “I’ve been offered a job out of the blue” somehow didn’t seem the right opening line.’

Nor did blabbing out her internal monologue on the topic, but it was too late for that now, wasn’t it?

His fingers squeezed her elbow, and a reluctant huff of grim laughter passed through his lips. ‘Perhaps not.’

The squeeze of his fingers was merely an impersonal touch. He wasn’t even in a good mood, so there was no need for her to feel all tingly and warm. She should be feeling chilled to the bone and worried.

Actually, she was those things, too. ‘Sorry. I babble when I’m uneasy. Mostly I don’t, because usually I have good control over the things that impact on me, though I do it sometimes because of Mum, Izzy and Faye. If they’re causing me more hassle than usual. But you don’t need to hear about that. It’s boring family stuff.’

‘Your job is safe, and I don’t want you leaving the company.’ He spoke as she finally wound down. ‘How about we start there and work our way through the rest?’

Good idea. ‘Thank you. I was worried about that a little, though not hugely, because I couldn’t see how you could be in trouble, but I’m relieved.’ She was babbling. Again. ‘Anyway, I didn’t accept Allonby’s offer.’

‘You won’t need to.’ Jarrod gave his order. Molly quickly added hers, and her boss paid for the food with cold politeness.

‘This table, I think.’ He led her to a table away from the others that was partially obscured from diners by a bank of potted plants, but with an unobstructed view of the river.

‘So, if everything is okay, why did Mr Allonby come to try to headhunt me?’ Other than Jarrod talking her up to the man at some point?

Dry cleaning. It could have been about dry cleaning.

‘There are rumours circulating. They’re widespread, very recent, and they’ve been placed for maximum effect to try and damage me financially.’ The words were pushed through his teeth as his gaze bored into hers. ‘Daniels’s call was my first knowledge of this. He wanted to withdraw his portfolio from the company. I had a hard time convincing him to change his mind, despite refuting the rumours utterly.’

‘So you’re not in financial difficulty.’ She nodded. That was as she’d expected. ‘But someone wants you to be?’

‘Apparently so.’ His fist clenched on the table.

Who would do such a thing to him?

‘Molly, things could get rough for a little while.’ His gaze held hers as he uttered the words. ‘Whoever started these rumours apparently has influence in the social circles I mix in.’

‘And draw your business from.’ Molly drew a deep breath. The glittery, glamorous, totally out-of-her-league world of Brisbane’s highest society.

He dipped his head in acknowledgement. ‘If more of those people become concerned about the safety of their investments—’

‘You could lose accounts. Big accounts.’ Anger and protectiveness welled from somewhere deep inside her. ‘Who would do this to you? Why would anyone want to hurt your business? We have to put a stop to this!’

‘I don’t have business enemies.’ He grimaced, shrugged his shoulders. ‘Well, maybe I do. Apparently I have some kind of enemy out there. But I’m the one who makes more money for my clients. My dealings are fair and equitable, and I either work with people or I don’t, depending on whether they choose to use me.’

His gaze roved to the river before it came back to rest on her face. As he stared at her, his expression hardened. ‘I will put an end to this threat, you can rest assured of that.’

She believed him. And as her heart calmed her protectiveness became deep-seated determination. ‘I’ll do whatever I can to help you. We have two appointments for later this afternoon, with clients who wouldn’t say why they wanted to come in. I wonder if they’ve heard the rumours?’

‘It’s probable, and probable they’ll also want to pull their funds.’ Their meals arrived and he fell silent. ‘If I thought it would do any good, I’d phone some of my key social contacts and demand they reveal the source of the rumours. I will do that, as soon as we get back to the office, but I know it will be a waste of time.’

He jabbed his fork into his steak sandwich and carved off an end with his knife. ‘There’s a code about things like that, maybe because legal action is so easily entered into and can be so time-consuming and costly once it starts.’

‘If your colleagues won’t tell you who started the rumours, what will you do?’ Molly picked a piece of walnut from her chicken Waldorf wrap and popped it into her mouth.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, and then the silence stretched and her skin began to prickle. She glanced up to find her boss’s gaze fixed on her. He had a light of—something—in his eyes, and suddenly she felt uncomfortable, uncertain. Trapped in the beam of a pair of very determined eyes.

‘Um…’ Molly wrapped her A-line black skirt more firmly about her knees, and adjusted the green-and-black top though it needed no adjustment.

‘It’s imperative the company puts the strongest foot forward at this time. I want the person who started these rumours. I want the rumours stopped.’ His face was a tight mask as he spoke the words. ‘And I want any negative impact on my business not only fixed, but put so far behind in the face of my success no person would ever believe such a suggestion again.’

Well, she would have expected such strong assertions. In the three years she’d worked for him, he’d built his business from his own personal investments to a vibrant, diverse service on the cutting edge of financial investment for some very wealthy clients.

‘You want a three-faceted approach to the problem.’ She murmured the words as she thought it over. ‘Catch the person who started the rumours and bring them to account for it. While working on that, fix any negative impact to the company. And, during that process, make us stronger than before so such a threat can’t even touch us in the future.’

‘That’s it, and of course, after Allonby’s offer to you, I also want people to understand you’re staying with me.’ He said this last in a low tone that brooked not even the thought of an argument—from anywhere. ‘You’ll be useful in any case, to help present a consolidated front.’

It was a simple desire to strengthen the company’s position. The first part of his statement shouldn’t have rushed across her senses. That it did was a problem, because it was one thing to have an intellectual admiration for his mind, even his personality, provided she kept that admiration work-related.

Anything else would be inappropriate, foolish. There couldn’t be ‘anything else’. And, yes, she’d had somewhat of a crush on her boss kind of from the beginning, actually, but that fact had to stay subjugated to the power of her will and common sense.

If occasionally she slipped, she understood the danger of it and quickly shored up her defences again.

Molly attempted to do so now. ‘I’ll be happy to put in extra hours in the office, make calls, send out letters. Whatever is needed to set these plans in action.’

‘I do want extra hours from you.’ He linked his fingers in front of him beside his plate.

He had beautiful hands, strong and lean, with a light dusting of hair across the backs.

Molly drew a deep breath and straightened her spine. Now was not the time to dwell on such things about her boss. Particularly when he was looking at her with such…

‘I want those hours from you outside the office.’ He dropped this statement on her without a blink. ‘While we sort this out, I need you at my side for all my working time. We need to move fast and hard to get this thing sorted, one way or another. It’s not about the money. I have enough that I could give up working right now and pay you to do the same. It’s the principle of the thing. My business reputation.’

A reputation he’d formed among Brisbane’s elite. Who were very much not people Molly had ever mixed with, or expected to mix with, other than to offer cups of tea or coffee when they arrived for an appointment at the office with her boss.

She doubted most of them would even be able to recall what she looked like, but it appeared her boss was asking her to…

‘What do you mean, exactly?’ She asked the question with a kind of forlorn hope, but she knew the answer. Until now she had worked in the office, and her boss had worked in the office, but he had also worked among his peers. He needed to have a presence in that world. In his world.

His world, but not hers. Mum, Izzy and Faye might have plied her with fairy tales during her childhood, might have told her she could have the sun, the stars and the moon with sugar on top if she liked, but reality was a whole other thing.

Their lives proved it. No money to speak of. No savings for the future whatsoever. Just a really expansive attitude towards treating themselves when they felt like it, which they justified was okay because they always made sure they could pay their bills on time. And when they no longer had jobs? Had reached retirement age and didn’t have that income stream any more? What would happen then?

Molly pushed the thoughts away. She had enough to worry about at the moment!

It would be dangerous to spend extra time with Jarrod, not to mention she would be so utterly out of her depth. ‘Mollyrella’, in the glittery socialite world of money and privilege? Oh, no. Surely there was some other way? ‘If you’re suggesting I attend social outings with you, I don’t think that would be a good idea.’

‘It’s the best idea.’ He contradicted her with an implacable set to his jaw. ‘That three-pronged plan has a better chance at success with both of us working on it. Two sets of eyes and ears, a dual approach to show them the company is strong and intact, employer and employee included.’

His argument made sense. Darn him. ‘What about contacting your client base now to reassure them? Personal calls?’

‘If I do that, it directly acknowledges the rumours, and that may result in giving them further credence in their eyes.’ He shook his head. ‘I want to see people’s faces while we search for the source of the rumours, while we talk up the business in such a way that those who have concerns will be reassured. Your statistical and other information recall will help with that.’

He ate the last bite of his meal and pushed the plate away. ‘This started in social circles. That’s where it will have to be resolved. It’s as simple as that.’

‘Simple’ was not the word that came to Molly’s mind. Trapped, maybe. Trapped and outwitted and outmanoeuvred. ‘Well, it’s just—’

‘We’ll attend our first function tonight, a private art exhibition in the home and grounds of a couple I know.’ He named one of the wealthiest couples in the city. ‘You’ll come as my guest.’

‘I’ve heard of those people. They’re almost as wealthy—’ As you and your parents. ‘The function is just hours away from now. I don’t even own a suitable evening dress.’

I’m a hundred miles to not ready.

‘I didn’t realise you might not—’ He broke off, blinked as though to cover his reaction. ‘Of course, I won’t expect you to be out of pocket while you help me, Molly. I’ll reimburse any costs. That means gowns, shoes, handbags—anything you need.’

No, no. That wasn’t what she meant. Oh, how embarrassing, and how great a reminder that they came from different worlds! Who needed an evening gown to go to the movies with her family, or out for a meal at a pizza place for a treat, after all?

‘I appreciate your thoughtfulness,’ she said stiffly. ‘But actually—’

‘It’s more than appropriate for you to have access to an expense account to cover such costs while I’m asking these extra duties of you.’ His expression didn’t change, yet somehow she sensed a softening in him. As though he understood this was awkward for her.

Or pitied her. If it was that, she’d toss herself into the river.

‘My budget can stretch a little if need be.’ It couldn’t really, but her pride felt stretched thin enough already.

‘I can’t allow that.’ As though he sensed her ongoing resistance and was determined to roll right over it, he went on. ‘You can shop for a dress this afternoon. I’ll give you one of my account cards. This is simply business, Molly. I want you properly equipped to function in this new role, that’s all. For that reason, you’ll accept assistance with such purchases because they’re legitimate work-related expenses.

‘If it’s any consolation, I’m not thrilled about this turn of events.’ He grimaced. ‘I’d rather spend the weekend at my cottage by the sea, putting the finishing touches to my yacht, but nobody messes with my business and gets away with it.’

‘You-you’re almost finished building your yacht?’ He’d shown her the schematics months ago. In a rare moment she had treasured, they’d put their heads together over his desk and had got quite excited, until Molly had remembered her place and straightened. ‘Are you happy with the results?’ She snapped her teeth together before any more questions could emerge. She was avoiding the real issue, anyway.

‘The yacht is almost done and I’m looking forward to sailing it.’ As though he knew her tactics perfectly, he turned the attention back to their previous discussion. ‘You’ll also be paid overtime for the extra hours you work. Double for out-of-office hours, triple on Sundays. Don’t argue about it. The decision is made.’

‘Sundays, plural?’ She didn’t want to be out of her comfort zone too long, but his solid approach to not only resolving the current problem but also protecting against a repeat, yes, that all would take time.

Molly suppressed another updraft of panic. She would have to find a way to ease out of things after the initial strike. Surely that would be possible?

‘Whatever it takes. The art exhibition will be a start.’ He drew a breath. ‘But, realistically, only a start. Even if we are able to track down the rumourmonger immediately, there’s still damage control and shoring up to be done.’

‘How many events are we talking about? How much, ah, out of hours time I guess is what I mean? A night or two per week, or—?’

‘A full onslaught at first. There’s the art exhibition tonight, and then a charity auction tomorrow, Saturday. That won’t be quite as formal.’ He paused to think. ‘There’ll be more. I’ll need to check my calendar to see what else is happening.’

Two events; two to worry about for now. She simply wouldn’t think beyond those two until she had to. Molly drew a breath and told herself that wasn’t so bad.

She would do the job asked of her, be eyes and ears and a show of strength, and be back at her desk Monday morning in PA mode, contained and unscathed as ever.

She wouldn’t embarrass him, and she wouldn’t fall prey to other feelings about him either just because they would be seeing each other away from their desks.

See? All sorted.

Except for her unease about spending his money. And a few dozen other worries all seething away in there. ‘I can provide my own clothes for the second event. Things I already have.’

‘If you wish, but be prepared to purchase a number of evening dresses at my cost.’ He rose from the table, drew out his wallet and handed her a card from within. Even the gold colouring of the plastic looked expensive. ‘You’ll use this for purchases.’

When he lowered his head to murmur the code to operate the card, Molly stood very still and forced her mind to think of those numbers, not his closeness. She almost succeeded.

‘We’ll head back. I’ll make those key phone-calls while you shop.’ He gestured for her to precede him from the outdoor area.

They left the restaurant and began to retrace their earlier steps.

‘When I get back to the office I’ll create a spreadsheet of the names of all our clients so we can keep track of who we’ve talked to. I’ll take the PDA with me tonight.’ Molly dived into plans and strategies, workaday ones—because those were safe, normal and about the truth of their relationship, even if Jarrod’s decisions had shaken the edges of that truth for her today.

At least he hadn’t offered to help her shop. That would have been too unnerving!


CHAPTER TWO

‘ACTUALLY, the spreadsheet will require a list of clients and associates. We’ll want to track all the significant people we’ve talked to, or am I going too far with the tracking idea?’ All the significant wealthy, upper-class, socialite so-far-out-of-her-reach people. Molly’s mouth flattened.

‘That will be fine. We can sort out a list of names this afternoon.’ Jarrod touched her elbow again to guide her along the street.

The Prince led Cinderella along the streets of Brisbane so she could go and buy a pretty dress.

Cinderella stared at him through her geeky glasses, while tingles tiptoed up her arm and scurried down her spine simply because of a touch.

Molly suppressed a snort. Cinderella indeed. Her mum, Aunt Izzy and Faye might think like that, might dream pie-in-the-sky dreams with no foundation in reality. Molly knew better, and she would stick to that knowledge. Heck, just the thought of being in his world made her knees want to knock together. She should focus on that!

‘You’ll have a chance to use that latest software package and the PDA uplink.’ Jarrod had insisted she purchase the software when he’d noticed she had it circled in a catalogue. ‘That way, if you take electronic notes over the weekend, the data collation will be as streamlined as possible afterwards.’

‘Yes, it will.’ Molly fell silent.

They were a block away from the building that housed their suite of offices when a voice spoke from behind them.

‘Jarrod.’ The tone was cultured, deep and rather devoid of expression.

Her boss’s body seemed to tighten. In fact, he seemed to tighten all over—posture, expression, muscle and sinew. Prickly. Wary. Was it because of the rumours? Was this someone from his world?

Molly’s gaze sought his, but he’d already clasped her elbow. He turned her until they faced a well-dressed middle-aged couple. ‘Dad, Mum. What brings you to this part of the city?’

His parents! Molly had never met them. They didn’t come to her boss’s office. He didn’t talk about them. She had assumed he didn’t feel his personal life was any of her business.

‘You’re right to be surprised by our presence here.’ Jarrod’s mother spoke the words through chilly lips. ‘We usually delegate such tasks as shopping, but sometimes they are unavoidable.’

‘We won’t be here long. Just taking care of one essential matter,’ Jarrod’s father added.

‘I rather enjoy the shopping experience.’ Jarrod made the observation in a mild tone, but there were shutters down over his face.

For some reason Molly couldn’t help edging closer to her boss’s side.

‘We’re here on business.’ His mother made the announcement as though it meant everything. ‘We’re to be guests of the king of an island country.’

She named the country, a small but beautiful paradise Molly had only read about and seen in travel documentaries, and went on.

‘We came to collect a gift we’ve had handcrafted. The king may agree to import our Road Ten furnishings into the country. It’s necessary to impress him.’

‘Good luck with that.’ Jarrod said it amenably enough. When Molly shifted slightly at his side, he forced a smile to his face. ‘We’ve been remiss in the introductions. This is my personal assistant, Molly Taylor. Molly, my parents, Stuart and Elspeth Banning.’

‘Hello.’ Molly offered her best professional smile.

Jarrod’s father dipped his head infinitesimally. His mother didn’t even bother with that.

When his parents all but snubbed his PA, a growl came out of Jarrod’s throat before he could stop it.

He would tolerate his parents’ coldness towards him. Hell, that had been his lot since the day he’d been born. But they could be polite to Molly, and if not…

‘Perhaps I should walk on ahead, leave you to say your hellos.’ Molly’s pointy chin went up. Strands of brown hair had escaped her ponytail and blew softly against her neck and cheek in the mild, warm breeze. She chased them with her fingertips.

A girl in clunky shoes and an odd, wraparound top and A-line skirt. He hadn’t liked hearing Allonby’s offer to her. He didn’t like his parents staring through her either. ‘No need, Molly. We’re done here.’

He turned to his parents one last time. ‘You’ll excuse us. Enjoy your time out of the country.’

Before Molly could more than blink, he hustled her away. He’d wondered if his parents had heard the rumours. He might have asked, but somehow he doubted they’d have remained silent on the topic if they knew something. They’d probably been out of the country too much recently to hear anything.

If they did hear something, and dared to raise the topic with him, he would soon set them straight that his business was fine.

He and Molly reached the outside of their office building. He came to a halt. ‘Time for you to get that dress.’

‘Yes.’ She clutched her handbag in her fingers.

Was she worried she might lose the contents? Or lose his account card?

‘When I return I’ll get straight to work on the spreadsheet.’ She hurried off into the crowd.

Jarrod stepped into the building, returned to their office suite and made the obligatory phone calls. They netted exactly the results he had expected—namely none.

It galled him to feel his business was even slightly at the mercy of someone’s whispered words. The sooner he and Molly got out there amongst it to set things to rights, the happier he would be. He would talk up business, while Molly spouted facts and figures and information she stored in vast quantities in that geek-girl head of hers.

On these thoughts, Jarrod immersed himself in investment strategy. If once or twice he paused to wonder how long Molly would be, or what her dress would look like, he quickly pushed the thoughts aside.

* * *

‘I’m back.’ Molly spoke the unnecessary words in a sudden fit of nerves as she reentered her office space almost an hour after leaving Jarrod outside the building. She wished she could ask about his parents, about that chilly meeting earlier, but she doubted Jarrod would welcome any questions.

Maybe the couple warmed up when they weren’t in public. ‘I tried not to take too much time. How did the phone calls go? And has anyone else phoned for appointments or anything?’

He sat behind his desk, an array of printed reports spread before him as he clicked through various screens on his computer. At her words he got to his feet and strode towards her. ‘The phone calls went predictably. No one would reveal anything. There have been no other requests for appointments. You got all you needed?’

His gaze shifted to the bag in her hands, and Molly wished she hadn’t spoken at all. She wanted to forget about tonight until she absolutely had to face it. Maybe by then her nerves would be under control and her defences back in place, as she needed them to be.

What if the event was really swanky and she did or said something stupid—stepped on the hem of someone’s designer gown and ripped it right off, like you saw in the movies?

‘Perhaps there won’t be any more damage from the rumours, and, yes, I got a dress.’ And at a reasonable price that wouldn’t make her cringe too much to know he’d paid for it. ‘Right. Well, the first client isn’t due for fifteen minutes, and I’d best study that phone-system so it can’t spring any more surprises on either of us.’

They’d had enough of accidental eavesdropping for the day. ‘But I’ll do it quickly and then get onto the spreadsheet, unless you have other instructions for me?’ She hovered beside the desk and wished he would go back to his.

‘No other instructions for now.’ Jarrod gestured to the bag in her hand. ‘Would you like to hang up your purchase? I have spare hangers in my dressing-room closet.’

‘No!’ She tried to pull herself together. ‘I mean, no thanks. The dress looks quite crushproof, and, if it isn’t, I’ll iron it tonight.’

She didn’t want to go into the inner sanctum of Jarrod’s dressing room. That would require her to walk through his gym room and past his bathroom, which she had avoided doing for the past three years.

Her boss often came to work early, exercised and showered and dressed right here. Molly knew this from the office’s alarm time-records, and because she had glimpsed the rooms now and then when he had his rear-office door open. She didn’t want to get any closer or more knowledgeable, didn’t want to visualise him working out, or under that spray of water.

She had enough trouble to deal with! ‘I have to get moving. There’s a lot to do this afternoon. Seventy-two pages of PDF manual, the spreadsheet, your appointments, plus any other work you want me to do.’

‘And despite today’s disruptions I have investments to manage, which will result in that handing off in about—’ he glanced at the clock on the wall ‘—an hour from now, if I can have my first appointment back out the door in half that time.

‘Good work, Molly. The dress, I mean.’ He turned, walked the few paces to his office and stepped inside. ‘For the rest, I’ll find a way to make up for losing Daniels’s business. I won’t allow these rumours to win out over me.’

‘I know you won’t. I’ll get to work.’ Molly stuffed the bag into her drawer, drew a shaky breath and brought up the phone-manual file on her computer and started to read it.

The first appointment came and went. The client didn’t withdraw her business, but Jarrod’s jaw was tight when Molly made coffee and took it in to him. Appointment number two was worse. The elderly man had made up his mind before he even came through the door. He was out again five minutes later, and Molly knew they’d lost him.

Two more phone calls came in requesting urgent appointments, and they had a walk-in as well whom Jarrod saw immediately.

When the last appointment finally left for the day, Molly had five minutes to go if she wanted to catch her bus. She made her way to Jarrod’s office and stood just inside the door.

He sat strong and straight behind his desk as always. It was only because she knew him so well that she could see the tension beneath the surface.

‘How bad—?’

‘Eight million short-term investment dollars gone, spread across three different clients. Mrs Armiga is sitting on the fence on the issue for now. I successfully reassured the other client.’ His eyes closed briefly in a small sign of weariness he wouldn’t have wanted her to notice. ‘If the clients who withdrew their short-term monies had been able, they’d have taken the rest of their funds today as well.’

The clients had signed investment agreements. ‘They have to honour the arrangements they’ve made with you.’

He shook his head. ‘True in theory, but, with the alternative that they would immediately start legal proceedings to get the funds released, I agreed to transfer control to them. That will be done on Monday.’

Molly’s mouth tightened and angry words burst out. ‘I hope their investments do badly. I hope they buy stocks and bonds that sink without a trace. I hope their favourite underwear gets washed with a colour-leaky red shirt that’s covered in fluff and has paper in the pockets!’

‘I’ll recoup the losses, Molly.’ His low words were warm, calming, a little amused in a grim kind of way—encouraged as well as encouraging?

Jarrod gestured her closer to his desk. ‘I know we’ve run over time. Give me your address details. We need to be at the venue tonight at seven p.m.’ He explained the general location.

She nodded, remembered the whole ‘Mollyrella goes into society’ thing, and her stomach knotted afresh. Well, she couldn’t pull out, could she? Eight million dollars gone already, more on the way.

The three-faceted attack plan needed to be put into action just as much as Jarrod had intimated. ‘The trip should take about half an hour from my flat.’

‘I’ll call for you at six-thirty. Can you be ready in time? If not, I can drive you home now as well.’

He’d never done that, had never offered, or needed to.

‘I could take a taxi both ways tonight.’ Would it cost a lot? Probably. ‘And I can make the bus on time now.’ She shifted in the chair on the other side of his desk and tried not to notice how good he looked backlit by the city’s skyscape—tall buildings, cloudless sky. Battle-sharp hazel eyes watched her so intently.

‘No taxi. I want to brief you further on the way there.’

Right. ‘I’ll just jot down my address, then. It’s on file, but this will be quicker for you.’

And babble out the ridiculous while she was at it. Molly bit her lip, and reached for his sticky notepad and a pen. As she handed the address over, she asked one last question. ‘Do you think Mrs Armiga will come round?’

‘I don’t know. She listened to what I had to say, and then said she’s always thought I looked too smooth.’ He got to his feet in a sharp movement. ‘What does she mean by that? Well, the outcome is our client is not convinced she can trust me, but she hasn’t pulled her file—yet, at least.’

I’d say you’re more whisky-smooth: delicious, but with a kick.

She hadn’t said that aloud, had she? No, of course not.

Get a grip, Molly!

‘Tonight we’ll start to turn the tide back our way. You’ve got some great cutting-edge strategies you’ve implemented even in the last month.’ Molly headed for her office, drew out her handbag and the carrier bag. ‘We’ll talk the business up, and people will begin to realise the rumours can’t be true.’

Jarrod followed behind her. ‘Don’t be worried for me, Molly, will you? I’m annoyed as hell, and I won’t stop until this situation is completely resolved, but it will be.’

‘I know. I have complete faith in you.’ Not so much in herself, but she’d committed to this now and she wouldn’t turn back. Not while he needed her.

He paused with his hand on the light switch, and for a moment his brows drew down and his gaze flared as he stared at her. Then he shook his head, flicked the switch, and they stepped out.

They got into the lift. Molly breathed in and out and commanded herself to calm down. That look…Well, it had just been a look, right?

She was all out of sorts. It was the dress, and the stress, and spending his money on herself, and having to dive into that social world, all together. Belly flop, more like.

‘You’re not too smooth.’ She spoke the words to fill the silence, and then attempted to explain. ‘I don’t mean you’re not smooth personally. I’m sure you’re as smooth as is appropriate, and that’s none of my concern, anyway. But, in business, you’re exactly the right amount of non-smooth.’

‘Thank you.’ Did his lips twitch before he turned away? ‘I appreciate that explanation.’

Molly faced forward and wished they’d get to street level. When they finally did, she scooted off the lift so fast she almost didn’t fit through the gap in the still-opening doors.

‘I’ll be ready at six-thirty.’ She would completely get over this feeling of impending panic between now and then, take control of herself and be ready to present an utterly businesslike front when he called to collect her.

Yes. That was much better. ‘I’ve got the work PDA with me. I’ll bring it as we agreed, so I can keep track of names and information. Goodbye.’ Molly bolted and didn’t look back, even if she was a little tempted.

She half-jogged her way to the bus stop and tried not to feel uptight about the upcoming events. With a PDA in her hand and a clear agenda, this didn’t have to feel all that different from a day in the office.

And what if it took a week, or two weeks, or a month, or three months, before she could safely draw back? All that time at her boss’s side—days, weekends, evenings—to make it really hard to remember he was her boss and she was his PA, and nothing else could possibly be…

Nonsense.

Nonsense, the idea of them being anything else to each other, and to this taking three months. The rumour issue would be resolved fast and that was that!

In celebration of this utter certainty, that was no certainty at all but what she so wanted to believe, Molly slumped into a seat on the bus, drew her phone from her bag and sent a text message to her mother.

Do you think Faye would have a pair of sandals I could wear with a burgundy evening-dress? I have to go out on business with my boss tonight.

There. See? All about business. A few moments later Molly opened her mum’s return message.

I checked with Faye. She has a pair of sandals with glass beading all over them. Three-inch heel. They’d go with anything. How exciting, Molly. A chance to do something grand for the night!

Yeah. Great. And glass-beaded sandals with a no-doubt uncomfortable heel would do nicely. The pumpkin coach could drop her and her broken toes off at her flat at midnight.

The phone rang in her hand. Molly jumped, and then answered. ‘I don’t know about glass-beaded sandals, Mum. Maybe something a bit more sensible would be better. Personally I don’t see why people don’t just stick to shoes with a thick strap and a decent tread, like I do for work and weekends.’

A long pause of silence ensued and she realised she might have sounded a bit ungrateful. Molly drew a breath. ‘Mum?’

‘I take it you made your bus on time?’ Her boss’s voice poured into her ear.

And he was definitely smiling this time. She didn’t need to see him to know it.

‘Yes. Yes, I did make the bus on time.’ Molly sat up straighter in her seat, not that he could see her. Jarrod had her number for emergencies. She’d put it into his mobile phone herself. Why hadn’t she checked the display before answering? He had never called before, and she’d made a right goose of herself, hadn’t she, blathering on about shoes?

In the background she heard a clattering sound—the underground roller-door of their building going up?

Molly pictured him driving his car one-handed, mobile phone in the other. ‘You’re not allowed to drive and talk on your mobile phone. You could have an accident.’ Great. Now she sounded like a mother hen.

‘I know. We bought Bluetooth, remember?’ Oh, yes. He definitely sounded amused.

Enough to make her hopes of regaining control of her changed circumstances, of riding it out with barely a ripple in the usual fabric of her work for him, threaten to crumble. Things were changing already, and she hadn’t even sorted out her shoes.

He went on. ‘The phone is on hands-free. I always use the technology we buy.’

‘Oh. Good, then.’ It was silly to feel so gratified by his words. No, her heart simply stuttered in shock that she had forgotten about the purchase even for a moment. In her defence, she’d had a long and trying day, and it wasn’t over yet.

‘I wanted to tell you to eat something before tonight.’ His voice returned to a more usual tone. ‘It’s only drinks and nibbles, and I don’t want you to be hungry.’

‘Thank you. That was thoughtful.’ If Molly knew her family, either Faye or Izzy or both would be ready for her when she arrived at the group of three flats they rented. They would have sandwiches in hand, and be ready to throw open their wardrobes so she could pick a pair of shoes and any other accessories she might deem necessary for the evening.

And her mother would be waiting to hear about it by phone as she went about her evening cleaning-job in a building full of offices not so different from the one Molly had just left.

Generous. They were generous…to a fault.

‘I’ll be sure to eat.’ If she could push anything down over the knot of unease currently lodged halfway up her oesophagus.

‘Then I’ll see you soon. We’ll take care of this, Molly. Between us, we’ll do it.’

‘I’ll do my best to help you.’ Not to embarrass him in front of his peers. Not to embarrass herself. Molly’s tummy contorted into fifty different balloon-shaped animals, and stayed bunched in all those multicoloured knots.

‘See you soon.’ Jarrod ended the call.

Molly put her phone away and peeked into the bag at her hastily purchased dress. So there would be an art exhibition. She’d attended some free ones at Turbine Hall and other places. No difference, really—other than the whole glitterati, buckets of money; nothing like her lifestyle.

And so her boss had phoned when he never had before. Things had changed; she had to expect he might ring, or whatever. They both needed to adapt. Molly simply needed to control her responses to him as she had always done, no matter the surroundings or circumstances at the time, and everything would be fine.

* * *

Izzy and Faye went one better than throwing open their wardrobes. They were waiting on her doorstep, arms full of all sorts of offerings, sandwiches included. Well, they did only have to walk from the flats either side of Molly’s to be there. Guilt rose in Molly’s chest, because they were wonderful, and giving, and always had been, and she shouldn’t resent them…

Where had that thought come from? The two women started to talk at once, and Molly ushered them inside.

At six twenty-five, Izzy leaned close to adjust the necklace around Molly’s neck for about the fifth time.

‘You look beautiful, Molly.’ Strands of frizzled red hair brushed Molly’s face as her aunt hugged her. ‘I’m so glad you chose to wear this pendant. It really suits the dress.’

A fine gold chain held a large Broome pearl in the shape of a squished piece of confectionery. Izzy had bought it two years ago with a work bonus from the courier company that employed her. Money she could have socked away into savings. Her pleasure now in lending the thing made Molly’s tummy knot all over again.

Faye stepped closer and glanced at Molly’s feet. ‘It’s worth a whole week of selling electric fryingpans over the phone just to see you in those lovely shoes. I always mean to wear them when I buy them.’

‘There are worse things than a shoe addiction.’ The pronouncement came over the speakerphone into Molly’s small living room.

Her mum’s voice, and Molly knew what would be next, because she’d heard it before.

Faye leaned close to the phone. ‘You don’t buy all that much Swiss chocolate and French perfume, Anna, and it’s only when you actually import it that it really costs.’

‘Don’t get caught on the phone when you should be cleaning, Mum. You’re not at someone’s desk, are you?’ Until a year ago, Molly and her mum had shared a rented flat two suburbs away, but the one-bedroom flat between Izzy and Faye’s had become available. It was closer to Molly’s work, and they’d all insisted Molly should move into it, that it was time she had her own place.

Anna had taken in a weekday boarder, and Molly’s fate had been sealed. She did enjoy having her own space and being closer to her work, but…

‘I’m perfectly safe, Molly.’ Her mother’s voice was calm and unruffled. ‘Local phone calls to close relatives are permitted from the tearoom. I’m treating this as my break time.’

Molly relaxed. That was okay, then.

‘He’s here!’ Izzy made this announcement from her position at the curtained lounge window. Her words pulled Molly’s mind from family worries to work ones.

‘Molly. He’s gorgeous.’ Izzy twitched the edge of the curtain back into place and turned to glance at her. ‘Why didn’t you ever say?’

‘I didn’t notice.’ Liar. ‘He’s my boss. I don’t see him that way.’ Great big liar.

Now he was here, and the two of them were about to go out, would it be okay? Molly’s heart rolled over and played dead. Just like her dog, Horse, in one of his silly moods when he wanted her to pet him and rub his tummy and tell him what a good boy he was. On cue, a foghorn woof sounded from the flats’ communal back yard.

Molly forced breath back into her lungs, and used it to once again try to explain things. ‘This is business. It’s not a date. It’s nothing to get excited about.’

‘If you say so.’ Faye tiptoed to the phone and picked it up, whispered something Molly couldn’t hear, and hung up. Then she tiptoed towards the back door of Molly’s flat. ‘We’ll just leave quietly. You look like a million dollars, anyway, you really do. Whether you want to treat it as a date or not.’

‘You look like a princess.’ Izzy followed Faye, also on tiptoes. ‘Maybe you’ll meet someone there who’ll sweep you off your feet, if not your boss.’

Fairy tales again. There’d never been any telling them. Both women slipped out the door. Molly locked it behind them. She didn’t want to meet anyone. The only feelings she had…

Were completely controllable. Molly went to her room to collect her bag—also borrowed. She felt the comforting weight of the PDA in there, and drew a breath aimed at steadying her nerves.

There were footsteps on the path outside, on the porch, and then the doorbell chimed.

‘Coming,’ Molly muttered. Coming, ready or not.


CHAPTER THREE

JARROD waited on the porch of Molly’s tiny flat. The flats on either side sported cluttered yards full of potted plants, garden gnomes and odd bits of small statuary. Molly’s yard had a miniature rosebush either side of the path near the porch, a neat little area of lawn and nothing else.

The area didn’t tell him much about his PA’s private life, not that he needed to know.

Jarrod smoothed his hand over his tie and acknowledged he felt tense, keyed up. Understandable. His business was under attack and he wanted that fixed.

Footsteps sounded inside Molly’s apartment, the tap of heels on parquet.

His PA had made that odd comment about shoes when she’d answered her phone, so maybe it only sounded like heels. Even so, he wondered briefly how she would be dressed. In classic black, maybe, something that covered her from neck to toe and went with her thick-framed glasses. Before he finished the thought, the door swung open.

Molly stood on the other side, but it wasn’t the Molly he knew and worked with. It was a vision of a woman with silky dark hair flowing about her shoulders, a flawless face, big brown eyes, and her perfect figure outlined in a beautifully simple burgundy dress that left her arms bare, outlined her curves, dipped in at her waist and flared all the way to her feet.

‘I’m ready. I have the PDA. Izzy and Faye made sandwiches and I talked them out of three layers of necklaces and fifteen cheapskate arm-bracelets.’ The words tumbled breathlessly over each other, and his PA’s face flushed in a way that made her look even more becoming. ‘That is, I’m ready to leave.’

‘I’m glad you’re ready,’ he said rather stupidly. Was his jaw hanging open? He clenched his teeth, just to make sure that wasn’t the case.

‘Yes,’ she muttered through softly parted lips. ‘I’m ready to beard the vultures—that is, to see the sculptures.’

‘You’re wearing heels.’ This was said rather accusingly. He tried to soften his tone. ‘You don’t—at work.’

The sandals on her feet did indeed have heels. They were also encrusted in small glass beads, and he couldn’t seem to take his gaze from toenails painted with burgundy polish to match that on her short, trimmed fingernails. He forced his gaze slowly back up, and noticed the delicate pearl necklace that lay in the valley between her breasts.

‘Not—I don’t usually, no.’ She lowered her hand from the doorknob.

He couldn’t remember what they’d been talking about so he made the only announcement that came to mind. ‘We should go.’

His voice sounded about an octave lower than usual. His ears buzzed, and he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. A wash of warmth flooded his bloodstream as he added, ‘You’re also not wearing your glasses.’

Brilliant conversation, Banning. Any chance you can do better before she decides you’re a complete, dithering fool?

He cleared his throat. ‘You look very nice, though—glasses or not.’

Far more than that. Sweet, desirable, hot…

A tight feeling caught at his chest. He thought it might be panic—because this was like seeing her for the first time, and he felt as though he’d missed something that was right there. And how could he have missed it for so long? Worse, why did the sight of her this way have such a strong impact on him? He, who felt so little, whose family had bred that lack of feeling into his DNA with their coldness and their lack of love or any kind of gentle feeling?

It must simply be sexual awareness, though that had never jolted him in quite this intense, unexpected way. The thought didn’t exactly help, given it was inappropriate all by itself. Heat warmed the back of his neck as he tried to batten down his reaction to her. Molly was his assistant. This was a working night. The clothes, the appearance, might be different, but nothing had changed between them.

Nothing other than that his eyes had been opened to her.

Well, he could just close them again, couldn’t he?

Molly stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door forward until the lock clicked into place. Her gaze skittered over his charcoal suit-coat, the grey shirt and darker grey silk tie, down to his feet and up again. ‘I like—I like—um, your tie. It matches the colour in your eyes. Yes. You look nice, too. You do. Of course.’

She looked away. ‘That is, the tie matches one of the colours in your eyes, but at the moment they’re mostly grey, not so much on the hazel side of things.’

‘I didn’t think my eyes changed colours much.’ He’d never noticed.

‘Oh, they do. I mean, it appears they have. At the moment—’ She stopped the words.

There’d been something in her eyes for just a moment. Interest—reluctant, unexpected perhaps, as his had been—but there.

He didn’t want that. Didn’t want to think of her that way, or her to think that way of him; he didn’t want this to be personal at all. Such reactions could only cause trouble. So why did the knowledge that she’d studied him closely enough to notice nuances of his eyes almost please him?

‘Right. You’re ready to leave, to get to work on this problem that’s been tossed at the business?’ Perhaps if he repeated the words aloud he would remember the purpose of this night, and get his mind off the vision Molly made in the eyeball-searing dress.

‘Yes. I’m keen to start sorting this matter out.’ She dropped her key into a small clutch-bag made of some kind of shimmery cloth. Her tone was all business, but her hand shook as she carried out the small, ordinary act.

Jarrod searched her gaze, and something passed between them that heated his skin a second time.

His hand lifted towards her face before he registered the desire to touch. He dropped it away again, turned aside. ‘Then let’s go search for a rumourmonger, spread subtle reassurance and build up the business with as many people as we can along the way.’

‘Yes. Let’s.’ Molly nodded a little too vehemently.

And Jarrod told himself to relax. This was just work, after all.

Molly’s tummy danced an out-of-control jig as she settled into the car beside Jarrod. The sedan was midnight-blue, and the engine gave a muscled purr when her boss turned the key in the ignition.

She wanted to blame her tummy flutters solely on nerves about the upcoming evening. That accounted for part of it, but there was more. The look in his eyes just now. Surely she had misinterpreted that, imagined that altogether?

‘I’ve never seen you without your glasses before.’

He murmured the words as he steered the sleek sedan through the city streets.

It was an observation about her person, and it wouldn’t have occurred a day ago. It was change, and in this instance Molly wanted to be as immovable as the most stubborn non-embracer of change.

‘I wear contacts occasionally.’ She almost said ‘on special occasions’—but this wasn’t one. Instead, she took the PDA from her purse and cast a repressive glance his way that was equally aimed at herself. ‘Glasses are far more sensible, in my opinion, even if Izzy and Faye—’

Molly cut herself off. Her boss didn’t need to hear about that. Work. What she needed was work. ‘There wasn’t time this afternoon to get the names of the people you hope to speak with tonight who aren’t our clients. If you can tell me now, I’ll key them into the organiser for reference later. Also, now you’ve had a little time to consider it, can you think of anyone who might want to do this to you?’

‘I have a couple of old school rivals, but I don’t have any true leads on this.’ His frustration showed through as his hands tightened on the steering wheel. ‘Either people are my clients, in which case I look after them, or they’re not, and what I do with my work is irrelevant to them.’

‘Maybe a thwarted girlfriend might be behind the rumours?’

The moment she said the words, Molly wished them unsaid. So much for keeping to business, because that subject was so not her business! Besides, in the time Molly had known him, Jarrod had shown no signs of any significant relationship. He seemed to prefer to date casually and sporadically.

Without commitment. His parents’ coldness this afternoon came back to her. He could be aloof, sure, and maybe it was odd that he hadn’t been in any deep relationships since she’d known him—but lots of people just weren’t ready.

She chose not to remember that her last date had practically been aeons ago. ‘Never mind about that. It’s probably more important to get that list of key names together.’

‘Yes, quite, and there’s been no one of significance, in any case. I don’t do the commitment thing.’ He started tossing out names of associates.

Molly wondered about those words, but he didn’t give her time to dwell on them. She duly made notes about his associates.

After a time, Jarrod turned his car through a set of gates. ‘This is the Laurant family’s estate.’ He stopped at the signal of a gloved attendant. ‘The car will be parked for us. Wait there. I’ll come round for you.’

Molly drew a sharp breath. Other thoughts receded as she stared at the grounds and mansion. People strolled across vast lawns and along bordered walkways. Glittery, wealthy people like her boss—whether she tried not to think about that side of him during office hours or not.

And here was Molly—working class to the tips of her cheaply painted toenails. They were being valet-parked, for heaven’s sake, whereas she didn’t even own a car.

Jarrod opened her door. ‘Ready?’

‘Not exactly.’ But she pasted a smile on her face and climbed out.

The first group of people Jarrod led her to comprised a woman somewhere between forty and fifty, a man with white hair and a trimmed moustache of the same tone and two women a few years older than Molly’s own twenty-three years.

They were all dressed immaculately, with jewels dripping from ears, wrists and necks, and they were critiquing a sculpture mounted on a platform at a curve in the crushed-granite pathway.

‘The lines, darling. Look at that form and grace.’

‘And wrought-iron for those edges. Such an intriguing choice.’

Molly glanced at the sculpture, and then stared. She couldn’t help it. It was beautiful. Better than anything she had seen.

A combination of swirls, arcs and dips gave a sense of movement so real, she reached out to clutch Jarrod’s arm, and a gush of awe came out of her. ‘It’s lovely. Like the sea swirling around rocks on a clear warm day. It’s such a privilege to get to see something like this.’

Four heads turned towards them. Four sets of eyes stared askance at her.

Blurt city; great way to start the night.

Molly went to drop her hand away from her boss as unobtrusively as possible, but he tucked it through his crooked elbow and covered it with his other hand.

‘Good evening.’ Jarrod stepped forward, his tone urbane, calm. As though her gauche observations hadn’t happened.

The Prince rescued Cinderella from her case of foot-in-mouth disease and probably wished he’d never brought her along.

‘Allow me to introduce Molly Taylor.’ His fingers squeezed over hers briefly before he dropped his hand—but he didn’t release her from that elbow tuck. ‘Molly is my PA, and right hand to me at Banning Financial Services.’

Correct. And she had a job to do for him tonight and couldn’t afford to mess it up. ‘Hello. It’s a lovely evening, isn’t it?’ Molly tried to sound as though she did this kind of thing all the time.

The man smiled a little. She wasn’t sure quite what he was thinking. The women didn’t.

Jarrod introduced each person by name. For the next few minutes her boss discussed a variety of generalities. It was all about subtle probing, assertion of his confident stance, assurances given and offers made without a direct word being spoken.

Molly listened, and watched and waited for her turn. She didn’t have a lot to say about the cost of importing ancient jade artefacts from a private dealer in Asia, which was where the conversation had drifted at the moment.

‘My Aunt Izzy works at a courier’s office’ didn’t seem quite appropriate, nor did describing her own brief stint after high school in a company that sold fertiliser, nor any of her other jobs before she’d landed the one with Jarrod.

When the conversation turned to her boss’s work more directly at last, she tried not to sag with relief. He discussed some of his hottest recent investment efforts. Molly inserted statistical facts and figures where appropriate.

This she could do, and his bent head and, ‘Good work, Molly,’ whispered against her ear helped allay some of her unease. For a moment, at least, though that brush of his breath made it hard to think!

Her boss released her arm, only to lay a hand against her back between her shoulder blades. Though she knew he did it as an act of solidarity, and perhaps to silently commend her contribution to the conversation, her skin burned beneath his touch. She forced herself to stand still, to focus. And couldn’t see any hint as to whether these people had heard rumours. The highly polished social veneer was just too blinding for her to tell.

Jarrod wound things up at just the right moment. ‘The thing is to keep sharp. I’m sure the world of finance will change many times before I hit retirement age, for example—if I decide to give up my work even then.’

That was his statement: I’m here to stay.

‘I might give you a call.’ The man he had introduced as Phillip Yates smiled through his moustache. ‘Must admit, I’d wondered how things were going, but I can see— Well, a fellow can never have too much good advice about investment, and what you’ve just said backs up everything I’ve heard about the best side of it. Interesting statistics, too.’

That was quite positive! Molly made a mental note to put those results in the PDA. She caught herself smiling a little, and caught a snide glance from one of the women as a sharp gaze raked over her clothing and back up again.

Molly’s smile faded, though she told herself to buck up. She didn’t belong here, with them in their designer originals and her in her modest dress and borrowed shoes and bag. She could have spent Jarrod’s money on something very expensive, either, and they’d still have seen she was a fraud. It didn’t matter what people thought of her, provided she and Jarrod achieved their goals.

Molly’s fingers tightened involuntarily around Jarrod’s arm and he glanced down at her. Smiled. Patted her hand.

‘Give Molly a call at work. She’ll sort out an appointment for you.’ With that he propelled her away from the group.

Molly hauled out the PDA and started to key as though her life depended on it.

Jarrod let her for just a few moments, and then he drew her into a quiet nook beneath an enormous fig tree.

‘What’s the matter? I thought you paled just now. Are you unwell?’

‘No. No, I’m fine.’ She tipped up her chin. ‘Can we keep going? I want us to cover as much ground as possible tonight.’

He frowned and seemed about to press the matter, but she tugged at his arm and he gave in, for the moment, at least.

They moved on, and got back into the thick of things. Molly watched her P’s and Q’s with everyone and tried not to dwell on her awareness of her boss. Tried to remember she really didn’t belong here. Yet every time she told herself this her boss would cast a glance her way, or his hand would linger that little bit longer than necessary at her back, and finally she admitted it to herself.

Maybe it was only the dress—no doubt it was only the dress—but Jarrod was noticing her tonight. As a man noticed a woman. And, the more she thought about that, the more her heart thundered with all sorts of wild and nefarious thoughts. Dream on. Mum and the others would be proud, which should be enough to stop her thoughts right there.

‘Champagne, wine or juice?’ Jarrod’s words broke through her reverie.

A drink waiter stood before them, tray held deftly aloft. Molly stared at the beverages. Juice might be the smartest choice. ‘Champagne, please,’ she blurted, because she’d never had it, and why not? And it would only be one glass.

‘I’ll have a Chardonnay.’ Jarrod took their drinks and handed Molly’s to her.

She had the good sense at least not to get the bubbles up her nose.

They visited one group after another for the next three hours. Jarrod nursed his wine.

Molly somehow ended up with a second glass of champagne, but that was okay, as it helped settle her nerves. She wasn’t doing too badly at all, really.

‘There’s a display of smaller works in the ballroom of the house.’ Jarrod leaned down to speak the words near her ear as they headed in that direction. ‘We’ve covered about two thirds of our client base, plus some others. We’ll speak to what people we can inside. You’re not tired, Molly? Your feet aren’t sore from all the standing about?’

Her ear tingled. She drew a breath that was too short and sharp, and took care to ease it out again unobtrusively. As for the shoes? ‘The sandals fit as though they were made for me. I haven’t felt a pinch or a painful twinge all night.’ She frowned.

‘I’m glad to hear that.’ He sounded confused.





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