Her stubbornly maintained poise wavered only once that day, when Rhys informed her that he’d had her car towed to a reliable garage for a full overhaul. “You did that without consulting me?” she asked him in startled displeasure.
“Yes,” he answered simply, turning a page of the market report he was perusing.
“Rhys, why did you do that?” she demanded, audibly perturbed. “I can’t afford a complete overhaul! The car’s probably not even worth what this will cost.”
“Don’t worry about that. It’ll be taken care of.”
The silence stretched so long that he looked up from the report to study her expression. If the flames in those violet eyes were real, he reflected with interest, he would be well roasted. “Now what’s the problem?”
“I don’t want you paying for my car repairs,” she answered bluntly.
“I have no intention of
paying for your car repairs. The company is paying.” His voice was even, firm. Slightly annoyed employer speaking to recalcitrant subordinate. “As my assistant, it is imperative that you have reliable transportation. Since this is such a new position, I hadn’t thought to authorize a company vehicle for your use. As of today, you’ll be driving a company car. I don’t care what you do with your other one, drive it occasionally, sell it, whatever you like. The company car is for your use, both professional and personal. It’s one of the perks of your position. If you decide to move on, the next person to fill your office will receive the same benefits. Does that satisfy your outraged virtue, Ms. St. Clair?”
Her cheeks reddened, but her chin didn’t lower even fractionally. “As you wish, Mr. Wakefield.”
He nodded curtly and turned his eyes back downward. “Get Henderson on the phone,” he ordered. “Set up a meeting for sometime next week. Tell him I want him to come fully prepared this time.”
“Yes, sir.” She turned and opened the door, then paused.
He looked up. “Something else?”
She didn’t quite meet his eyes. He couldn’t help remembering the morning before, when he’d reluctantly offered the apology he knew she deserved. He must have been wearing very much the same expression then that she wore now. “About the car,” she murmured. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Angelique. Go call Henderson.”
She didn’t linger. Staring absently at the door she’d closed behind her, Rhys chuckled, shook his head and went back to work, wondering if he’d ever completely understand his lovely, spirited assistant.
RHYS FOLLOWED HIS USUAL routine during the next few weeks. First to arrive at the office, last to leave. There were no further conflicts between him and Angie, no intimate interludes. No more invitations to dinner. He considered himself biding his time, waiting to see what would happen. If Angie was aware that Rhys was only temporarily indulging her obvious desire to maintain a strictly professional relationship, she didn’t show it. Outwardly nothing had changed between them on that Friday he’d taken ill.
Even Rhys couldn’t have explained why he’d altered his route to work and home after finding out where Angie lived. He never failed now to drive past her house, no matter how early or how late the hour. He learned a few more things about her simply by studying her house as he drove past. The plain, functional company car he’d assigned her was usually in the driveway. As far as he could tell, she never had visitors. The lights were always on in the house when he passed in the evenings, unless he’d lingered so long at the office that she’d already turned in for the night. Even then, a small lamp burned in what he assumed was the living room.
Was his so-competent, so-independent assistant afraid of the dark?
He couldn’t help wondering why she seemed so isolated. His curiosity about her was becoming so intense that he was having a hard time containing it. He’d even considered having her investigated, though his conscience rebelled at such a blatant invasion of privacy. But it wasn’t simply curiosity. He was beginning to worry about her—something he found almost staggering. He’d never worried about another person, with the exception of Aunt Iris, who’d been in increasingly poor health during the past few years.
What had happened to Angelique to turn her into such a recluse? He’d noted that she was beginning to make a few friends at the office, but she was still very much alone at home. He knew full well that she was not a natural loner, such as himself. Something traumatic had occurred in her life, something so shattering that he could still see the haunted look in her eyes in unguarded moments, even now, six months after he’d first met her. What could it have been?
Was she lonely? Frightened? Had it been a man who’d hurt her so deeply? And, most importantly it seemed, was there a man somewhere who still had a claim on her? That was the question that nagged him in the early hours of morning when he lay sleepless, tormented by images of her.
He wouldn’t be able to continue this way much longer. No matter how firmly she held him at a distance, no matter how hard he tried to control his desire for her, the tension between them was building, strengthening. Sooner or later, something was going to give. In some ways, he looked forward to that point, eager to find out what would happen. In others, he dreaded it, wondering if either of them would survive the explosion intact.
“…SO THEIR OPINION is that we need to expand more into the medical equipment market to take up the slack caused by falling sales to the oil industry. With very few changes in the production line, the equipment we’ve been manufacturing can be converted for use in hospitals and…”
Though she listened attentively to every word Rhys was telling her, Angie found part of her mind captivated by the way the indirect office lighting gleamed in his thick silver hair. They sat side by side on the long sofa at one end of his office, where they’d been for the past half hour or so as they’d gone over the notes from the meeting held that morning with members of upper management and representatives of an outside consulting firm. It always seemed to help Rhys sort things out in his mind by discussing them aloud with her; she considered being a good listener an integral part of her job. She wondered who he’d talked to before he’d hired her.
“What do you think?”
That question got her full attention. She couldn’t remember ever hearing him ask it before. “You want my opinion?”
Rhys frowned. “That was what I asked. You do have opinions, don’t you?”
“Of course. You’ve just never seemed interested in them before,” she answered bluntly.
His mouth twitched with the half smile she was coming to anticipate more all the time. “Most people don’t wait to be asked before telling me how they think I should run my business.”
“You hired me as your assistant, remember? If you’d wanted someone who’d felt qualified to run your business, you’d have hired one of those smart-ass M.B.A.s who wanted my job.”