Now her chuckle morphed into a laugh. ‘Can you imagine the tabloid headlines? Sahara CEO loo-ses the plot!’
The silliness and her sheer delight at it caused his laughter to deepen and she joined in. Eventually they both subsided. And then, as remembered laughter echoed, actual silence reigned.
Hell.
The idea behind this conversation had been to lock the attraction down, but as a strategy it had failed entirely—because as he looked at her laughter-flushed face and the sparkle in her eyes he was grateful for his seat belt. Otherwise he was pretty damned sure he
’d slide across the cream leather and gather her into his arms.
All in all, it was a relief when the car glided to a stop.
‘We’re at my office. I need to pick up the paperwork. Back in five.’
* * *
Sarah watched Ben head towards the revolving glass door that led into his headquarters and let out her breath in a whoosh. No point ducking the issue—she wanted to kiss him. With a yearning that almost scared her.
Before she could bang her head against the window in sheer frustration he returned, slid back onto the seat and handed her a piece of paper.
‘Your contract and a schedule for the next few days.’
‘You move fast.’
‘It has been said.’
Another silence descended as, unbidden, an image of him moving across the sleek leather seat filled her mind and her tummy tightened, her muscles clenching in an effort not to start the move herself. The image of her hand cupping his cheek stuck, and she could almost feel the light stubble against her fingers. Her lips tingled in wishful anticipation...
Enough.
She reached out and nearly snatched the paper from him, forcing herself to look down at words that seemed to waver and jumble before her gaze.
The timetable was concise, packed with catwalk shows and drinks parties, and as the information permeated through the scrambled filters of her brain she tried to focus her mind, to concentrate on putting outfits together in her head as she planned a capsule wardrobe for all occasions.
But even as she did so the realisation dawned on her that, according to this schedule, they would be together for nearly every waking minute. Bad, bad idea. Did she have a crush on him? Just because of his chiselled visage, his sculpted body—was she that shallow?
Looking up, she studied his face, the lithe muscles of his arm, the breadth of his chest, and realised that, yes, she was as shallow as a puddle on a sunny day. Worse than that—in the past twenty minutes she’d figured she might actually like him.
‘Do I need to attend the social stuff?’
‘Yes—to see what people are wearing. And it’ll be a good opportunity to make contacts and network. People are the key to any organisation, so I like to hear what people are saying officially as well as unofficially. Expert opinions, rumours... It’s all important stuff. And the parties and events are usually fun.’
‘Fun’ did not sound like a good option. Did she want to party with Ben Gardiner? Absolutely not. In fact, this wasn’t about fun full stop.
‘I’m not here to have fun,’ she said. It would make her feel guilty—as if she were enjoying being away from Jodie. ‘This is a job.’
‘Are you saying a job can’t be fun?’ He shook his head. ‘I think the whole point of work is that it should be fun. I hope all my employees derive enjoyment from what they do. That’s why I pay everyone well—from the factory staff upwards. Happy staff make a better company. I’d prefer it if you attend the parties, but I’ll leave it to you. I’m paying you a fee for your opinions—it’s up to you how you garner them.’
Fee. She hadn’t even looked at the contract, so distracted was she by his presence, by her foolish reaction to him. Idiot.
She scanned the document, saw the figure and blinked in disbelief. ‘Ten thousand pounds? For a week’s work. You can’t pay me that much.’
Guilt slammed into her as she realised exactly why she had avoided looking at the contract. Because it felt fake—wrong. Because, like it or not, this was a contract made under false pretences. Ben Gardiner didn’t know he was taking on someone with no qualifications and a criminal conviction. Would he have hired her if he knew that? Accepting the sales assistant interview on false pretences had made her feel bad enough, but she had justified it for Jodie’s sake. But this...? Even for Jodie, suddenly seemed too much.
Ben frowned and studied her expression with eyes that seemed way too full of discernment, and she flicked her gaze away.
‘I believe that to be a fair fee,’ he said. ‘I appreciate that you’re turning your life—and Jodie’s—upside down. It includes a reasonable amount for childcare and compensates you for the five days and nights that you will be away.’
Days and nights. Sarah knew that he simply meant the time she would be away from home, but all she could think of was the fact that she would be with Ben for an overwhelming amount of that time. Under false pretences. Sure, she hadn’t actually lied, but there was an assumption, a presumption, that she was a qualified non-criminal.