‘I—Well, it could be.’
‘I would doubt my secretary is any more familiar with the girls in the typing pool than I am,’ he drawled mockingly. ‘Would you?’
This girl she was! ‘Probably not,’ she evaded a direct answer. ‘But it wasn’t worth the risk.’
‘Would it be too much to ask what this call is about? I thought it had been decided that your—friend was to take the blame for allowing you to drive his car.’
‘Yes, well, I—I’ve been thinking, and—and—’
‘And?’ he prompted tersely.
‘And if your invitation to dinner still stands I would like to discuss—terms.’
‘It doesn’t,’ he told her curtly. ‘Forget the dinner invitation.’
‘Oh.’ Her heart sank. She had been rude to him and he wasn’t about to forgive such an insult from a nobody like her. ‘Please, Mr Blair. I’m sorry for what I said. I—’
‘The dinner invitation is out,’ he repeated. ‘But one for lunch today is open,’ he added enquiringly.
‘Lunch today?’ Her mouth gaped open and she quickly closed it again, realising that although her conversation couldn’t be heard by the girls outside the office her reaction to it could clearly be seen.
‘Well?’ he rasped, pretty much as he had done after administering that punishing kiss yesterday.
‘I—’
‘Or do you usually have lunch with your boy-friend?’ he interrupted before she could form an answer.
‘Not always. Usually, but not always.’
‘Then today can be one of the exceptions.’ It sounded like an order. ‘I’ll meet you in reception at twelve-thirty.’
‘No! No, Mr Blair,’ she said more calmly. ‘I’d rather meet you somewhere away from here.’
‘I am not in the habit of sneaking out to meet anyone.’ His icy anger could quite easily be detected.
‘Then perhaps you shouldn’t take insignificant typists from your own typing pool to lunch.’ Her own anger equalled his. ‘That way you wouldn’t have to sneak around.’
‘Lauren—’ he began in a threatening tone.
‘Okay, okay, I’m sorry,’ she sighed. ‘But you got angry first,’ she accused.
To her surprise she heard him chuckle, a rich deep sound that made her feel like smiling too. ‘Okay,’ he accepted, ‘I got angry first. But who made me angry, hmm?’
‘I did,’ she admitted freely. ‘But try to understand, I don’t want to be seen with you.’
‘Thanks!’
She sighed. ‘Will you stop misunderstanding everything I say?’ she snapped.
‘As long as you promise to stop reprimanding me,’ he returned smoothly.
‘Reprimanding you? Me? Don’t be ridiculous!’
‘You see,’ he laughed, ‘you’re doing it again.’
At least he could laugh about it! ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled.
‘You’re forgiven,’ he said huskily soft. ‘And as you don’t want to be seen with me—’