He shook his head. "That's not why–"
She put up her hand to stop him. "It's all or nothing. Always has been."
"Do you trust me to deal with it?"
She nodded. "I trust you to deal with it." There was a moment's silence, wherein the three of them took in the significance of what had been said. "This calls for a celebration," she added. "Do we have champagne?"
His father stood, darting off with a decidedly cheerful look on his face.
When he'd gone, she leaned over to Zac. "I knew that once you got involved, you wouldn't be able to resist," she whispered to him, proudly.
The sense of happy resolve in her expression was too good. He didn't want to shatter it or any of her illusions. It wasn't quite as simple as that, but there was a way to make it just as agreeable.
There was no turning back now. If he wanted to keep the company on an even keel and win Abby, he had to see his plan through.
Chapter Ten
"So let me get this straight." Marcy grabbed the bottle, topping up their wine glasses. "You've met this hunk—and he sounds pretty damn sexy, I agree—but then you thought he was following you, but it turned out to be your boss?" She put the bottle down and pulled her khaki tank top and shorts straight as she resumed her cross-legged pose.
Abby frowned. "Well, yes, that doesn't sound quite right, but basically that's it."
"I want to hear more about the hunk in a minute, but Abby—your boss?" Her eyes rounded. "I mean...you poor love. You're going to need the name of a solicitor, aren't you?" She was deadly serious.
"No, don't worry. I'm not going to let it go that far. At the moment he hasn't really stepped out of line. He's hinting like crazy and he's been taking an interest in wh
at I'm doing, above and beyond what would be considered normal, but it wouldn't stand up at an employment tribunal. I'm not going to let it go any further though. I'm out of there."
"No, don't let the bastard push you out of your job." Marcy was starting to look irate.
Abby shook her head and reached out for Marcy's hand, squeezing it. "He isn't. I've had itchy feet for a while. This has just given me that extra push. I've always had this dream about having my own company. I think I'm ready."
Marcy's expression softened and she squeezed Abby's hand back. "Well, that's good news. But if he does anything before you move on, just walk out that door. Promise me."
"I promise."
"Good." She picked up her wine and took a sip. "Now, back to the hunk." She smiled. "I think you'd better start at the beginning. And don't skimp on the details."
"He walked into my life one day and it hasn't been the same since."
Marcy waved her hand. "Describe him. I need an image to work with."
Abby chuckled. "Tall, dark and handsome, cheekbones to die for. Black hair, blue eyes, unusual. He's part Greek."
Marcy lolled back against her cushions, then rolled towards the portable fan that she had stood next to them, flicking the speed up a notch.
Abby shuffled. Her dress was riding up on her thigh. She wasn't dressed right for sprawling on the floor but she didn't care, the wine saw to that. She felt as if they were sitting in a harem. Marcy had a big Persian rug in the middle of her sitting room floor with massive scatter cushions for seating. The heat and the fan gave it that exotic edge—women talking together in the harem, women talking about sex and desire.
"There was an instant connection, it wasn't just an attraction, and it was like we connected on some other plane."
"Oh dear, Abby's in love."
It was so odd hearing it said aloud. "Do you think so?" She knew the answer, but she needed to hear the verification again.
Marcy raised an eyebrow. "Tell me more about the connection, how did you meet?"
"We first saw each other in an elevator, of all places. I wanted him, instantly. He sent my hormones into overdrive. I never wanted a man that bad. There was this other couple in there, fooling around." She smiled as she remembered. "Zac and I looked at each other, at them and back. There was an instantaneous sexy dialogue going on between us, only we weren't actually speaking." She moved, stretching her legs, squeezing her thighs together. Just thinking about being in the elevator with him was turning her on.
"I thought he was a courier, he was delivering papers. When he walked into our offices, I told him I was the receptionist."