‘Then I’d like six rounds from your little man,’ Lucas said promptly, ‘with lashings of brown sauce.’
She inclined her head, as she imagined the estimable June would have done in the same circumstances, and forced herself to turn and walk towards the door. ‘I’ll be ten minutes or so,’ she said evenly over her shoulder and she didn’t look back.
She was fifteen minutes, and when she knocked for the second time that morning on Lucas’s door and walked into his office, her boss had transformed himself—courtesy of the small bathroom and dressing room, which were part of his executive suite—into his usual cool and impeccable self. But in spite of the fresh charcoal suit and pale blue shirt with matching tie, all Kim could see was a mental picture of acres and acres of finely honed muscled flesh and it was disconcerting, to say the least.
It didn’t help that his hair was still slightly damp from the shower and his freshly shaved face more relaxed than usual, either, and the hot prickle of overt sexual awareness that had hit her so forcefully earlier didn’t seem to want to die the death she was willing on it.
‘Six rounds of doorsteps with what looks like a pound of bacon in them,’ she said as expressionlessly as she could. ‘Eat them while they’re hot.’ She handed him the plate as she spoke.
‘You sound like my mother.’
His mother? She narrowed her eyes and smiled sweetly. ‘Don’t tell me you are one of those men who have a mother fixation,’ she said coolly before she thought too much about it and didn’t dare voice the tart retort which had sprung to mind.
‘I don’t think so.’ He was eyeing her with what could only be termed a glint, but a glint of what Kim wasn’t sure. ‘My mother is a wonderful woman and ideally suited to my fat
her, but…no, I don’t think so.’ He took a bite of one of the sandwiches and closed his eyes in ecstasy.
‘How come I haven’t had bacon sandwiches from your little man before?’ he asked almost petulantly.
‘Because you didn’t ask?’ she suggested daringly.
The silver eyes fastened on her, pinning her to the spot, and Lucas smiled slowly. ‘I only have to ask?’ he drawled lazily.
She might have known she had no chance of winning in a war of words with him! Kim was disturbingly aware that something had shifted in the last few minutes, something that had been bubbling away under the surface from the first moment she had laid eyes on Lucas Kane—something that couldn’t, mustn’t, have expression. ‘I’ll get you another cup of coffee.’ She had turned and swept out of the room before he had time to take another bite.
Lucas smiled faintly to himself. There was more, much more, to his efficient, beautiful new secretary than met the eye; he had known that from the beginning. And was that why he had been tempted to choose Kim above other more qualified, experienced candidates?
The thought didn’t sit well with him and the smile turned into a frown. He had chosen Kim Allen because she was the most suitable applicant—qualifications and experience weren’t necessarily the be-all and end-all of a working relationship, he told himself sharply. There had to be a spark, a cutting edge, a quality that was undefinable but which told you any association would be healthy and productive without becoming dull or boring. He had never wanted a mindless android who wouldn’t say boo to a goose. That was why he had chosen Kim. And her qualifications were pretty good too, as was her experience.
June had had it—they had enjoyed some very real altercations in their time, he assured himself firmly, ignoring the little voice of honesty which suggested he was comparing chalk to cheese.
He was suddenly uncomfortable with his thoughts and, reaching for another sandwich, having finished the first, he turned his mind to the Clarkson file sitting in front of him, dismissing all further thoughts of Kim with the single-minded ruthlessness that had made Kane Electrical so successful in the last decade.
It took Kim a good deal longer to get her unregenerate thoughts under lock and key, but once she had succeeded she determined they wouldn’t escape again. Lucas Kane could prance around naked if he so desired and she wouldn’t turn a hair, she told herself on the drive home that evening.
She had to admit he had a certain something, a darkly seductive something—in fact it was a relief to acknowledge it and bring it out into the open, she assured herself firmly. He was a compellingly attractive man—most powerful, wealthy men had an aura that set them apart from the crowd—but it didn’t make them easy to live with or likeable.
And she didn’t have to like him; as long as she could respect his business acumen and flair and enjoy her work, that was all she wanted. His lifestyle and the way he conducted his personal relationships was absolutely no concern of hers; the fact that he embodied everything she most disliked in a man in that area didn’t mean she couldn’t work with him. He saw her as part of the office machinery, not a woman, and that made all the difference.
She was well satisfied with her reasoning by the time she drew up outside the school gates and parked the car, walking down the concrete drive and standing to one side of the big wooden doors as the first desultory snowflakes began to fall out of a laden sky.
By the time Melody emerged with one or two other children—the teacher standing just behind them and checking each child had its respective escort—the snow was coming down in thick fat white flakes that sent the children into transports of delight.
‘Mummy, it’s really snowing!’ Melody danced up to her, her small face alight. ‘Can we build a snowman in the garden?’
‘Maybe tomorrow, if it snows enough,’ Kim agreed warmly. The cottage had a delightful garden with a large lawn surrounded by mature trees and shrubs, and Melody had already commandeered a small corner of it, announcing she was going to plant her own herb garden in the spring.
She would, too, Kim thought fondly as they walked to the car. Anything she set her mind to, Melody did; her small daughter was bubbling over with confidence and vitality and thankfully had no memory of the last terrible months Graham had put them through before he had died.
She refused to dwell on thoughts of her late husband, concentrating on Melody and asking her small daughter about her day, but once Melody was in bed and the cottage was quiet she found the memories flooding in in spite of all her efforts to shut them out.
She had thought she loved Graham—she had been sure she loved him—but the old adage that said you never knew someone until you lived with them had certainly been true in her husband’s case, she reflected bitterly.
The handsome, bright, only son of aged doting parents, Graham had been spoilt outrageously from the cradle. In spite of their fairly limited means, Graham’s parents had endeavoured to give their charismatic offspring everything he wanted, even financing the one-man business he had set up after finishing university, although it had taken every last penny they had.
She hadn’t been aware of that at the time; she hadn’t been aware of many things which had come to light after Graham’s death.
She hadn’t known he had a drink problem at university—everyone drank, it was part of the culture, and Graham had been adept at hiding his addiction from her. And by the time it became apparent he was an alcoholic she had been pregnant with Melody and desperate to make her marriage work for the sake of their unborn baby.