Hannah’s cheeks had flushed but she’d answered honestly. ‘No,’ she’d said—but, of course, she hadn’t added that sex lost its lustre when you felt nothing for the man in your arms. She had never been the sort of girl to get turned on easily anyway. Towards the end, her ex-husband had accused her of being frigid.
‘You’re a lump of ice,’ he’d complained nastily, and she couldn’t deny it. She had felt like ice, cold to everything, wanting nothing…
Until that night more than two weeks ago, when she’d stood in the hallway of her apartment building, fumbling in the darkness with Grant MacLean as if she were a randy teenager, for God’s sake, as if——
Hannah drew a deep breath. Whatever had made her think of that? The incident had been a temporary aberration on both their parts, that was all, and whatever she’d imagined in those few last moments before Sally had interrupted them the next morning had been just that—imaginings. She had only to look at the way Grant had treated her since to know that.
Not that he wasn’t polite, she thought as she bent over her work. He was. He was also cooler than ever, as if to make certain she understood that what had happened that night had meant nothing. When Mr Holtz offered a smile and a ‘Good girl!’ by way of complimenting her on how well she’d represented the firm at the reception, Grant made it clear it had not been he who’d praised her but some of the Hungarian women.
‘Not Magda Karolyi,’ he’d said, with a little smile, and Hannah had, after the barest hesitation, smiled in return.
‘Hannah?’
She spun around. Grant was standing in the middle of her office, watching her.
‘Oh!’ She gave a breathless little laugh. ‘You startled me.’
He nodded towards the files lying beside her computer. ‘I take it you’ve finished with those.’
She looked from him to the scattered documents, then to him again. His face was expressionless, but she was sure she heard a note of irritation in his voice.
‘No, no, I haven’t.’
‘But you’re almost done?’ She nodded. ‘I hope so.’ He frowned down at his wristwatch. ‘In fact, I’d like you to stay and finish those tonight. I’m leaving, but—’
‘You’re leaving?’
He looked at her. ‘Is there a problem with that?’
‘No, sir, of course not. I just thought that, since you were leaving, I——’
‘Ah. I see. You assumed that you could leave if I were. Is that correct?’
‘Well…’ She hesitated. Why was he looking at her that way, as if she’d said or done something that had infuriated him? Just a minute ago, she’d been thinking about how polite he’d been lately, and now——
‘Come, come, Hannah, I’m not a villain.’ He crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a smile that was all teeth. ‘If you can’t work late this evening, just say so.’
Hannah’s brows rose. ‘I didn’t say—’
‘If you have a heavy date, I certainly wouldn’t expect you to break it out of loyalty to me.’ Grant’s mouth twisted. ‘Or is it a hot date? I’m afraid I find it impossible to keep up with the vernacular.’
She stared at him. ‘You were listening to my conversation with Sally,’ she said incredulously.
‘I must say,’ he said, distaste visible in the narrowed dark eyes, ‘I would have thought better of you.’
Her face flushed. ‘That makes two of us. What right had you to eavesdrop on——?’
‘For God’s sake, you needn’t make it sound as if I had a glass to the wall!’ He strode briskly across the room and snatched a paper from her desk. ‘I started out of my office to see if you’d gotten anywhere with this report, but you and she had your heads together in an exchange of girlish confidences.’ He snapped the paper straight and glared down at it. ‘I thought it best not to interrupt, even though——’
‘I’d have preferred you had, instead of——’
‘—even though you were gabbing away on time I’m paying for.’
‘I was not “gabbing away”,’ she said coldly. ‘As for what you think you overheard——’
‘I’m waiting for your answer,’ he said, his voice sharp as it interrupted hers.
Hannah stared at him. ‘My answer to what?’
‘Can you manage to get that report done, or will it interfere with your plans for tonight?’
‘My plans for tonight are——’
‘Spare me the details, please. Can you finish the report, or can’t you?’
The bastard! Hannah’s breasts rose and fell with the swiftness of her breathing. Who did he think he was, passing judgement on her private life? Or was it the fact that she had a private life that so enraged him? How dared he speak to her this way?
She stared into his cold eyes, then squared her shoulders.
‘It will be on your desk before I leave, sir.’
And so would her letter of resignation by the week’s end. There was no sense in kidding herself. She couldn’t work for such an impossibly arrogant s.o.b. This was exactly how he’d behaved that night he’d dragged her off to the reception at the Mark Hopkins, as if he were in charge of her every breathing moment.
‘In that case, you’d better phone your date and tell him you’re cancelling your plans for the evening.’
She smiled through her teeth. ‘That’s unnecessary. He won’t mind waiting an hour.’
Grant’s mouth narrowed. ‘Two hours, perhaps.’ He turned and strode towards his office. ‘Or even longer. That report won’t be finished until I’ve read it and approved it.’
She stared after him. ‘You said you were leaving.’
‘I’ve changed my mind.’
‘But——’
He swung around and faced her. ‘Just get it done, please,’ he said coldly. ‘The sooner you do, the sooner we can get out of here.’
‘Yes, sir,’ she said. Her voice was every bit as cold as his, which was a miracle because she didn’t feel cold at all. She felt hot with rage; what she wanted to do was snatch the damned report from her desk and hurl it at his head. ‘Mr MacLean?’
He spun to face her. ‘What is it now?’ he demanded, and she smiled; at least she hoped that was what she was doing. It was hard to be sure, because her lips felt as if they were sticking to her teeth.
‘You were right.’
‘Right? About what?’
‘About getting the phrase wrong,’ she said. ‘I had a hot date tonight, not a heavy one.’ She spoke pleasantly, even though she was so angry that her heart was galloping. ‘People stopped saying “heavy date” years ago.’ She paused, just long enough for maximum impact. ‘Before I was born, I think.’
She had the satisfaction of seeing his face colour before she turned her back to him, walked to her desk, and sat down before her computer. It took all her determination not to look around again. Instead, she began typing, very quickly and, she knew, very erratically.
But it worked. After a few seconds, she heard him mutter something under his breath, and then his door slammed shut. Hannah dropped her hands to her lap.
All right. It was time to do what had to be done. She would finish out this week, then hand in her notice.
One way or another, Grant MacLean was an impossible man to work for.
It took exactly an hour and ten m
inutes to finish the report. When she was done, she ran it off on the printer, read it thoroughly, then placed it neatly in a folder and rose from her desk.
She knocked at her boss’s door, then opened it. His chair was turned so that he faced the window and the darkening sky. ‘The report’s ready,’ she said stiffly as she made her way towards his desk. ‘You said you wanted to—’
He swung towards her and she fell silent. He was on the telephone, his expression intent.
‘Marilyn,’ he said, ‘for goodness’ sake, what do I know about——? Just put it on my desk, Hannah. No, Marilyn. No, I’m not ignoring you. I——’
Hannah strode across the carpet and out of the door. Another woman, she thought coldly. Marilyn this time, not Magda. She stabbed a hand at her computer and the screen turned black. Perhaps he had a thing for women whose names started with the letter M, she thought as she yanked her jacket from the corner coatrack and slipped it on, although why any woman in her right mind would——
‘Hannah!’
She spun around. ‘The report is on your desk,’ she said tightly. ‘I just put it there. You saw me do it.’
‘I have the report,’ he said, holding out his hand and showing her the folder. ‘What I need to know is what time you’re meeting your date?’
‘My date?’ She stared at him. ‘My… ?’ And then she remembered. ‘Oh.’ Her gaze flew to the clock on the wall behind him. It was almost half-past six. ‘Uh—at seven.’
‘I suppose it would destroy your plans completely if you phoned him and said you’d meet him at eight.’
Hannah’s shoulders slumped. Of course. He’d said the report wouldn’t be finished until he’d read and approved it.
‘Well?’
She looked up. He was watching her coldly. For a moment she almost blurted out what he could do with this job, but then she reminded herself that she only had to get to the end of the week, put in a letter of resignation, and walk off with a good reference.
‘No, sir,’ she said evenly, ‘it wouldn’t.’
‘Do it, then.’
She stared at him, waiting for him to give her some privacy, but he just stood there, glaring at her. Finally, she snatched up the phone and dialled her own number.