Love's Only Deception

‘Heavens, yes,’ she groaned. ‘I’d forgotten!’

‘Well, from what I’ve discovered about Spencer Plastics so far you soon won’t have to work another day of your life if you don’t want to. I have to agree with your opinion of Sir Charles, he’s a snob of the first degree. He refused to see me at first, until I told his secretary I was your lawyer, then he was falling over himself to be polite.’ He smiled with remembered enjoyment. ‘I put on my most haughty air.’

‘Good for you!’ she laughed, lifting Paul down from his high-chair and carrying him through to the bathroom for his wash.

Bill followed, to help in the washing of his son. ‘I’m in the middle of doing a report for you. I’m afraid Ted’s stroke will put that back for a while. I’m going to have trouble doing my ordinary job, let alone this extra work for you.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ she dismissed. ‘The shareholders’ meeting isn’t for another three weeks, maybe you’ll have it finished by then?’

‘As there are only three of you, Sir Charles, his sister, and you, maybe they wouldn’t mind cancelling it for a while? I don’t want you going in there without all the facts.’

And she didn’t want to go grovelling to Sir Charles for more time either! ‘Maybe you could arrange that, if you get time,’ she added hopefully.

‘Of course,’ he agreed instantly. ‘It’s the least I can do. Just don’t worry about it for a while. And when you do go to the meeting I’ll be with you.’

‘Thanks, Bill,’ she said gratefully. ‘Now let’s get this little man dressed and his suitcase packed. ‘You’re going to stay with Nanny, poppet,’ she told him.

‘But not for too long,’ Bill muttered as he went into his own bedroom to start packing.

Callie gave a husky laugh, although her smile faded as Bill drove off with Paul in the back of the car. It was going to be lonely in the flat knowing Bill and Marilyn weren’t next door if she needed them.

She had to rush around to get ready for work, only just making it on time. Her job as personal secretary to the manager of an advertising agency was a hectic one at the best of times, giving her no time for her personal call to Logan.

‘You look a little peaked,’ her boss remarked as she went to lunch first. ‘Late night?’

Callie was used to his probing into her personal life, his lightly flirtatious manner, and she fended it off with her usual flip comment, waiting until he had left the office before slumping down in her chair. Her lack of sleep from the night before was beginning to catch up with her now, and the thought of an early night was very inviting.

But now was no time to collapse with exhaustion; she had the perfect opportunity to call Logan Carrington. Luckily Carrington Cosmetics were in the phone book, although getting through to Logan wasn’t so easy. He was right, his new secretary was very competent, so competent that she refused to put Callie through to his office, merely taking the message that she had called arid her own telephone number.

So much for that, she thought with a frown. Oh well, if he was interested he would take her call as a sign that she was sorry for the way they had parted and would call her back.

There was no return call by the time she went to lunch, and the afternoon proved as fruitless. As the time passed she became more and more despondent She told herself it was because she didn’t like to be bad friends with anyone, but she knew that wasn’t the real reason. Logan Carrington had made a big impression on her, and it was him in particular she didn’t want to be bad friends with.

Besides, her mother had always told her never to let the sun go down on an argument, and she had already let one night pass.

By four-thirty she had gained enough courage to call again, but the secretary put her off for a second time, saying Logan wasn’t in the office, but that yes, she had given him the message before he left.

So that was that. Logan had received her message but hadn’t followed it up. There was nothing more she could do.

It was just her luck that she had to work late that evening, her tiredness a physical as well as mental thing now, her movements sluggish and disjointed—not least because of Logan’s lack of communication. She had liked him, really liked him, and she had thought he liked her. She must have been wrong. One little argument couldn’t have changed his opinion so completely.

‘Well, that’s it.’ Mike sat back with a sigh. ‘You can type that report in the morning, Callie.’

‘Right.’ She didn’t have the energy to do it now anyway!

He looked at his wrist-watch. ‘I think I’ve made you late for your date:’

She gave a rueful smile, shaking her head. ‘I don’t have a date.’

‘Of course you do.’

‘No.’

‘Oh hell!’ he groaned, searching through the piles of papers on his desk. ‘I took this message for you while you Were at lunch,’ he handed her a slip of paper. ‘I forgot to give it to you,’ he added regretfully.

She read it with avid eyes, then looked up frowningly. ‘It just says eight o’clock, Roberto’s.’

‘Well, that’s what the man said,’ Mike shrugged. ‘He was in a hurry, said he wouldn’t have the chance to call again. And could you meet him there.’