Duncan’s gaze moved thoughtfully to the closed door and back to Kalera’s deepening blush.
‘Are they still giving you a hard time?’ he murmured. ‘Would you like me to pass the word around to lay off?’
In her hypersensitive state Kalera detected the hint of smugness in his proffered sympathy. Duncan was pleased by his staff’s partisan display.
Her chin rose. ‘I can handle it. After all, it’s only for a few more weeks,’ she pointed out, shrugging off his concern along with his staying hand.
Just in time. As Duncan’s eyes darkened in annoyance at the tart reminder Anna barrelled out into the hallway and stopped dead, looking hopefully from one to the other.
‘Sorry, am I interrupting something?’
‘Definitely not!’ said Kalera, with what she instantly realised was a shade too much emphasis.
Duncan immediately scooped up the initiative. ‘In the hall?’ He returned his assistant’s mischievous grin. ‘You’ve got to be kidding! You know me—I’m the soul of discretion.’
‘It’s facetious comments like that that fuel the stupid rumours,’ Kalera chastised him severely as he followed her into her office. ‘Everyone knows what a flagrant exhibitionist you are!’
‘Being uninhibited isn’t the same as being loose-tongued,’ he murmured, ‘but it certainly provides protective camouflage. I built my business on being able to guard my secrets, remember? I can be as close as the grave when it really matters.
’ He bent down and planted his palms on her desk as she pretended to busy herself with a shuffling of paper. ‘Is there one stupid rumour in particular that’s upset you?’
Heat swarmed over her body and the teasing glint of amusement in Duncan’s eyes sharpened into curiosity as Kalera mumbled something evasive. She wasn’t going to embarrass herself further by repeating Anna’s absurd opinions out loud.
‘You do know you can talk to me about anything, Kalera,’ he said, lowering his voice persuasively. ‘I’m very open-minded and pretty well unembarrassable.’
She flashed him an exceedingly dry look.
It was her own precious peace of mind she was concerned about, not his. Even the mere thought of telling him that he was supposedly crazy about her sent hot shivers skittering along her nerves.
Any woman who was loved by Duncan Royal was headed for a life of constant turmoil!
Unfortunately, instead of sinking into the deep, dark recesses of memory the mad idea persisted in hanging around on the fringes of her consciousness, a burden of dangerous knowledge that made her feel unfairly guilty, and which fired her determination to preserve a prudent professional distance between herself and Duncan.
If only he had been equally committed to her graceful withdrawal from Labyrinth Technology it might have worked, but Duncan was proving annoyingly uncooperative. A case in point was the employment of her replacement, which should have been a straightforward matter of picking the best person for the job.
‘Duncan, she can’t even spell!’ Kalera cried in exasperation as they discussed the latest candidate on the third morning of interviews.
‘That’s why word-processing programs have spellchecking utilities,’ he replied airily.
‘Look here—she even got the word Labyrinth wrong…twice!’
Duncan didn’t even glance down at the document that Kalera had shoved across his desk. He shrugged, rocking his black leather swivel chair back and forth. ‘Nerves. She was probably put off by you sitting there glowering at her while she was trying to concentrate.’
Kalera’s smooth brow ruffled with distaste. ‘I was not glowering.’
‘Well, you weren’t very friendly.’
She set her teeth. ‘It was a job interview, not an invitation to join a social club!’
‘Yes, well…you know how I feel about formality. I thought Lara was fun.’
Kalera controlled a sudden desire to scream. He was being deliberately obtuse. In the last few days he had become infuriatingly slippery when she’d tried to pin him down to making a serious decision.
‘We’re not looking for “fun”, we’re looking for competent,’ she articulated crisply.
Duncan linked his hands behind his head and kicked back in his chair, swinging his feet up onto his desk.
Kalera eyed the scuffed running shoes with trailing laces nudging the edge of his keyboard. Only Duncan could come to work in an Armani suit one day and turn up in chain-store jeans and plain white T-shirt the next, although the eye-catching stainless-steel Alain Silberstein watch on his wrist had probably cost him the equivalent of two designer suits. He rolled his head against his hands and the stud in his left ear snagged at her temper. Why did he always have to be so aggressively different? Being unique was almost some sort of fetish with him. Why, even in bed he—