OV
ER the next few weeks Kim worked as she had never worked before. She made copious notes of everything June told her, taking reams of paper home each night and sitting up until well past midnight, memorising anything and everything which was relevant. She acquainted herself with every file, every company, every individual who played a role in Lucas Kane’s business life until she had more facts and figures in her head than June did.
One of Melody’s schoolfriends lived directly opposite her daughter’s school and Kim came to an arrangement with the child’s mother that in return for the payment of a small fee she could drop Melody off at just gone eight every day, enabling the blue BMW to purr into Kane Electrical’s car park every morning before half-past eight.
Kim had imagined, the first day, that it would be just her and possibly the caretaker in the building, but Lucas’s sleek, champagne-coloured Aston Martin was already in residence when she had pulled up and it continued to be so every morning.
He had come to the door of his office on her early arrival and gazed quizzically at her for a moment or two, but beyond a request for one of the endless cups of coffee he consumed all day had made no comment.
Christmas had come and gone, and Kim had gulped slightly at the size of her very generous Christmas box from Lucas in the form of a cheque, and in the second week in January she and Melody had moved into the small but charming two-bedroomed cottage she had found not far from her daughter’s school.
And then the Monday of the third week was upon her, the first day June wouldn’t be there to cushion her from any minor panics, the other woman having left for Scotland the previous weekend. And Kim found she was as nervous as a child on its first day at school.
She’d gone to extra trouble with her appearance, the clothing allowance having enabled her to buy a new wardrobe consisting of several stylish, neatly tailored suits, blouses and accessories which perfectly projected the image Lucas Kane’s secretary needed to give, and Kim knew the dove-grey suit and salmon silk blouse complemented her English peaches and cream colouring.
Nevertheless, her soft brown eyes were wide and faintly anxious as she checked the coiled braid on the back of her head, her thick straight fringe just brushing the tops of her fine eyebrows.
‘Nothing has changed in the last forty-eight hours,’ she told the efficient-looking reflection softly. ‘You’ve been working for him for the last week or so with June doing little more than observing; you can handle anything now.’
Kim had to remind herself of that last comforting assurance in the next minute or two.
Over the last weeks she had slipped into the pattern of serving Lucas coffee as soon as she arrived in the office, but when, after the normal customary polite knock, Kim opened the door, it wasn’t the usual immaculately attired and perfectly groomed tycoon she had grown accustomed to who looked up from his desk.
Lucas had obviously been asleep until she had woken him, and now, as he straightened and peered at her from bleary eyes, Kim’s heartbeat went haywire.
It wasn’t the fact that he hadn’t shaved or brushed his hair, or that his dishevelled appearance bore evidence to the fact that he had slept in his clothes that had her insides turning cartwheels.
At some time during the last hours he had discarded his suit jacket along with his tie, and now his open shirt revealed a deep V of tanned flesh sprinkled with dark curling body hair and a muscled—devastatingly muscled—male chest of Olympic athlete proportions.
He worked out. He very clearly worked out. Kim was glued to the spot, the tray with the coffee and plate of biscuits wobbling dangerously in her hand. And he was… Well, he was something else, she admitted with silent shock. Clothed, he was pretty intimidating and all male, but partly clothed… No wonder June had told her that the fast car went with equally fast, glamorous women and a love ’em and leave ’em personal life where work—always—came first.
‘Not that it seems to put them off,’ June had murmured confidentially. ‘Of course, the circle he moves in are all of the same mind, I guess, so that helps. Lucas has never been one for the dumb blonde type female; he goes for brains as well as beauty. The last one was a lawyer, the one before that a mogul with her own business—they all seem to find him irresistible.’
She hadn’t made any comment at the time although she had silently told herself that irresistible was definitely not a word that came to mind when she thought of Lucas Kane, but now, if nothing else, she could appreciate what drew and held such women.
Taken off his guard like this, and with his office mode in abeyance for once, she was seeing the raw animal magnetism she had sensed once or twice—well, a lot more than once or twice, she admitted ruefully—in all its deadly power.
‘Hell, what’s the time?’ The silver eyes were clearing even as he spoke and granite was replacing the faint smoky hue that had been so stunningly sexy.
‘Eight-thirty.’ It was succinct but all she could manage until her hormones sorted themselves out.
‘Is that coffee? You’re an angel.’ He leant back in the chair and stretched magnificent muscles before raking back his hair, none of which did Kim’s equilibrium any favours. ‘I’ve been here most of the weekend; the Clarkson deal blew up in our face and needed some quality time.’
‘Right.’ Kim nodded in what she hoped was an informed, efficient sort of way and wondered if he was aware he was half naked. If he was it clearly didn’t bother him.
She placed the coffee and biscuits on the desk in front of him and prayed her face wasn’t as flushed as she feared it was.
‘But I’ve got it nailed.’ He reached for one of the biscuits and ate it in a hungry bite before reaching for another.
‘When did you eat last?’ she asked carefully.
‘Eat?’ The crystal-bright eyes that could be so piercingly intent were vague. ‘I don’t remember. Saturday, I think.’
‘Fancy some bacon sandwiches?’
‘Bacon sandwiches?’ He stared at her interestedly. ‘Don’t tell me you can provide those at a moment’s notice, Kim?’
‘Almost.’ She was fighting sexual arousal and it made her voice stiff. ‘There’s a little man on the corner who comes every morning in his mobile and does a roaring trade, apparently. Bacon sandwiches are his speciality.’