‘Yeah, I love my job.’
Alistair nodded slowly, pursing his lips together. ‘Well, maybe you’re more like your father than you think.’
16
Thou hast her, France; let her be thine
– King Lear
It had been more than twenty-four hours since Lucy left Glencarraig Lodge, and yet she still couldn’t think about anything else. Every time she closed her eyes she could see Lachlan, every time she touched her lips she could feel his mouth against hers. They’d crossed the line so far it wasn’t funny. She should forget everything that had happened.
But some things were easier said than done.
Lifting her hand up, she ran her fingertips along the scar that zigzagged from her temple, remembering how gentle Lachlan had been as he traced it.
Where’s this from?
His question had been so casual, and yet it had stirred up a maelstrom of emotions inside her. Reminded her what happened when you took your attention from the road. What happened when you were reckless, when you didn’t bother clipping in your seatbelt.
What happened when you lost control.
‘Here’s your coffee, and the mail arrived.’ Lynn placed the mug carefully on Lucy’s desk, then passed her the pile of envelopes, varying in size and colour. ‘Oh, and your sister made the gossip rags, again. Did you know she and Sam are expecting twins?’
Lucy smiled, for the first time that day. ‘Cesca called me last night. She said she was shocked, especially since they broke up last week according to Entertainment Weekly. Apparently next month they’ll have a secret wedding.’ The lies the tabloids wrote were a source of amusement at the Robinson and Balfour office. Lucy had long since stopped believing any of them were true.
‘Well, make sure I’m invited.’ Lynn winked.
After she left, Lucy covered her face with the palms of her hands, sighing. What a bloody mess. Every time she thought about Lachlan her stomach tightened, as though it was being tied in a thousand knots. What the hell had she been thinking?
She hadn’t been thinking, that was the problem. She’d thrown herself into the moment, hadn’t thought it through. Had been completely unprofessional.
Taking a deep breath, she took a quick scan of her emails. The one at the top grabbed her attention. Not from him, but about him at least. A last-ditch offer from his brother to relinquish his rights to the land and title at Glencarraig. At least some things in life were predictable.
Her cursor hovered over the forward button. She should send this to Lachlan straight away. Licking her lips, she hesitated, afraid of what opening their communication might unleash.
Why couldn’t everything be normal?
This was why she should never have gone to Glencarraig with him. It made things murky, made her question herself when she should be on top of her game. She’d played with fire and it had burned her, and she should learn a lesson from it.
Sighing, she clicked on the forward button, quickly tapping out a note asking Lachlan for his orders. Dammit, she meant instructions. She highlighted the word, replacing it, feeling the relief washing through her as she clicked the send button.
Just the thought of him giving her orders was enough to set her whole body on fire. She dropped her head into her hands, squeezing her eyes shut. If she was this affected by the thought of him, what would she be like when they were face to face again? He only had to look at her and she’d go weak at the knees.
Lifting her head up, she looked through the glass wall of her office, and across to the partners’ rooms on the other side. The thought of Malcolm finding out what she’d done in Glencarraig made her feel sick. Everything she’d worked for would be ruined.
And yet she still couldn’t get Lachlan out of her mind.
The rest of the afternoon was a write-off. Letters that would usually take her minutes to deal with lay unread on her desk. She asked Lynn to hold her phone calls – half afraid he’d try to circumvent her mobile phone and call the office instead. She left her coffee undrunk in her mug, a thin film covering the top of the liquid as it cooled.
Thank God it was almost the weekend. Her father was safely settled in to his home, her sisters were fine in their lives across the world. She could afford to hole up in her apartment, to actually get the work done that she should have finished this week, and by Monday everything would be back to normal.
It would be calm, quiet and completely under control.
Just the way she liked it.
When Lucy’s email flashed up on his screen on Friday afternoon, Lachlan was sitting in the library at Glencarraig, his laptop resting on the polished oak table as he took part in a videoconference with his directors in New York. It was early morning in Manhattan, and spring sunshine shone through the window behind Marcus, his finance director, making the laptop screen work overtime to adjust to the light.
‘Cash flow is good. We have a few overdue items, but nothing to get twisted about,’ Marcus was saying. Lachlan leaned back on his leather chair, flicking at the report in front of him as Marcus continued to speak. His eyes were drawn to his phone, his fingers twitched as he reached for it.