At Her Boss's Bidding

When he started wondering just that he wrenched his eyes back up to her face, which wasn’t much help. OK, so she had put her hair up, as he’d requested. But not the way she’d used to, scraped back severely into a knot. It was caught up very loosely with a long black easily removable clip. Several strands had already escaped its ineffectual clasp to curve around her chin, drawing his gaze to her mouth, a mouth which bore no resemblance to Rachel’s usual workaday mouth. It was more like that mouth which had tormented and teased him on Saturday night. Blood-red and full and tempting. Oh, so incredibly tempting.

Justin clenched his teeth hard in his jaw and dropped his gaze back to his work. ‘Just put the coffee down there, thank you, Rachel,’ he said brusquely, nodding to a spot near his right hand.

When she lingered in front of his desk without saying a word he was finally forced to look up. ‘Yes?’ he said sharply. ‘What is it?’

‘Could I have a longer lunch hour than usual today, Justin?’ she asked. ‘I have some clothes shopping to do. I’ll work late to make up for it.’

Justin no longer cared what clothes she bought. She couldn’t look any sexier to him if she tried, anyway.

‘Yes, yes.’ He waved her off impatiently. ‘Take all the time you need.’ The rest of my life, preferably.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, Rachel,’ he bit out. ‘Quite sure. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to write this report for Guy.’

‘Did I hear my name mentioned?’ the man himself said as he strode in.

Justin welcomed the distraction. ‘Aah. You’re back from Melbourne earlier than I expected,’ he said, glad to have an excuse to ignore Rachel. ‘How’s your father?’

‘Much better. It was one of those nasty viruses. He was rotten on Friday and Saturday but on the improve by yesterday. So what did you think of Sunshine Gardens?’

‘Take a seat and I’ll tell you. Close the door as you go out, would you, Rachel?’

Justin noticed that Guy’s eyes followed her as she did so.

He gave a low whistle after the door clicked shut. ‘So that’s your new PA,’ he said, with meaning in his voice. ‘You lucky dog, you. I love pretty women in black. Though, of course, I prefer them in nothing at all.’

‘There’s nothing between Rachel and myself,’ Justin lied staunchly, his face a stony mask.

Guy chuckled. ‘That’s your story and you’re going to stick to it. Wise man. Office affairs are best kept behind closed doors. And hotel-room doors. So how was your weekend junket? Everything to your satisfaction?’ And he grinned lecherously.

Justin decided to ignore Guy’s none-too-subtle innuendoes and plunged into giving him a brisk report on the hotel as a property investment. Naturally, he didn’t mention their not having been to the presentation dinner. He let Guy think they had. Justin had watched the video last night and hadn’t changed his mind about the place, despite the glowing marketing spiel.

‘So that’s my professional opinion,’ Justin finished up. ‘Added to the fact I think it’s a lemon, I also gleaned some valuable inside information from a lady real-estate agent there for the free weekend. Apparently, the client she was representing is intent on purchasing the hotel at any price. I never think it’s a good idea to get into a bidding war with that kind of buyer.’

‘This agent could have been bluffing.’

‘Yes, but I don’t think so.’

‘Mmm. Do you happen to know who this interested party is?’

‘No. Just that he’s filthy rich and has an ego the size of his cheque-book.’

‘I heard a whisper that Carl Toombs is thinking of going into the property market up that way.’

Justin struggled to keep his face unreadable. No one at AWI knew the circumstances behind his divorce. No one knew that his ex-wife was Carl Toombs’ secret mistress. No one except him and Mandy and his mother.

Justin’s own ego had kept their secret for them.

So of course he could not be seen to react to Carl Toombs’ name in any way other than a professional one.

‘The man certainly fits the description the agent gave of him,’ he said coolly. ‘She said her client always gets what he wants, money no object.’

And wasn’t that the truth? He’d set his sights on a married woman who’d been deeply in love with her husband at the time—Justin still believed that—and totally corrupted her, with his money, his charisma and his supposed sexual prowess.

Justin hated the man with a passion. As did quite a lot of other people in Australia, people who’d invested in some of his previous entrepreneurial get-rich-quick schemes. Some had succeeded, but a good few had failed. Yet somehow Toombs always managed to extricate himself with his own fortune intact. He had brilliant lawyers and accountants, and the best of contacts, both in the political and social scene. Married twice, with an adult daughter from his first marriage and two teenage sons from his present wife, Carl Toombs was in his early fifties, but looked a lot younger, courtesy of his personal dietician, trainer and cosmetic surgeon.