A Spanish Affair. Helen Brooks
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MEET again, Miss Millett.’ In spite of the fact that Georgie had been steeling herself all morning for this encounter, her head snapped up so sharply she felt a muscle in her neck twang.
A full week had elapsed since that day in Robert’s office when she had first seen Matt de Capistrano, and it was now the first day of May and a beautiful sunny morning outside the building. Inside Georgie felt the temperature had just dropped about ten degrees as she met the icy grey eyes watching her so intently from the doorway.
‘Good morning, Mr de Capistrano.’ There was no designer suit today; he was dressed casually in black denim jeans and a pale cream shirt and if anything the dark aura surrounding him was enhanced tenfold. Georgie knew he and Robert were going on site for most of the day, along with Matt de Capistrano’s architects and a whole host of other people, but she hadn’t bargained for what the open-necked shirt and black jeans which sat snugly on lean male hips would do to her equilibrium. She wanted to swallow nervously but she just knew the grey gaze would pick up the action, and so she said, a little throatily, ‘Robert is waiting for you if you’d like to go through?’ as she indicated her brother’s office with a wave of her hand.
‘Thank you, but I wish to have a word with you first.’
Oh, help! He was going to come down on her like a ton of bricks for her rudeness a week ago. He held all the cards and he knew it. He could make their lives hell if he wanted. Georgie raised her small chin a fraction and her voice betrayed none of her inward agitation as she looked into the dark attractive face and said quietly, ‘Yes, Mr de Capistrano?’
Her little cubby-hole, which was barely big enough to hold her desk and chair and the filing cabinet, and barely warranted the grand name of an office, was covered by one male stride, and then he was standing at the side of her as he said, ‘Firstly, I do not think it appropriate we stand on ceremony with the Mr de Capistrano and Miss Millett now we are working together, yes?’
In spite of his perfect English he sounded very foreign. Georgie just had to take that swallow before she could say, ‘If that’s what you want, Mr de Capistrano.’
‘It is,’ he affirmed softly. ‘And the name is Matt.’
The grey eyes were so dark as to be almost black, Georgie thought inconsequentially, and surrounded by such thick black lashes it seemed a shame to waste them on a man. And he seemed even bigger than she remembered. ‘Then please call me Georgie,’ she managed politely.
He inclined his head briefly. ‘And the second thing is that I find myself in need of your assistance today, Georgie,’ he continued smoothly. ‘My secretary, Pepita, has unfortunately had a slight accident this morning and twisted her ankle. Perhaps you would take her place on site and take notes for me?’
Oh, no. No, no, no. She’d never survive a day in his company without making a fool of herself or something. She couldn’t, she really couldn’t do this! If nothing else this confirmed she was doing absolutely the right thing in trying to find a new secretary to take her place for Robert.
Georgie called on every bit of composure she could muster and said steadily, ‘Perhaps you had better ask Robert about that. It would mean closing the office here, of course, which is not ideal. His men are finishing work on a shop we’ve been renovating and are expected to call in some time this afternoon, and there’s the phone to answer and so on.’
‘You have an answering machine?’ Matt enquired pleasantly.
‘Yes, but—’
‘And your presence will only be required during the discussions with the architect and planner. After that you may return here and perhaps type up the notes for me,’ he continued silkily.
Oh, hell! It would be today his precious secretary decided to twist her ankle, Georgie thought helplessly. She doubted if Matt de Capistrano would be around much in the normal run of things; a wealthy tycoon like him had his fingers in a hundred and one pies at any one time, and within a few weeks she would hopefully be out of here anyway. This was just the sort of situation she’d been trying to avoid when she’d decided to find a replacement secretary for Robert. ‘Well, like I said, you’d best discuss this with Robert,’ she said faintly.
‘And if Robert agrees? I can tell him you have no objection, yes?’ he persisted.
No, no and triple no. ‘Of course, Mr—Matt,’ Georgie said calmly.
‘Thank you, Georgie.’
His accent gave her name emphasis on the last ‘e’ and lifted it into something quite different from the mundane, and she was just coping with what that did to her nerves when the hard gaze narrowed as he said conversationally, ‘You do not like me, Georgie.’
It was a statement, not a question, but even if it had been otherwise Georgie would have been unable to answer him immediately such was the state of her surprise.
‘This is not a problem,’ he continued smoothly as she stared at him wide-eyed. His gaze rested briefly on the dark gold of her hair, which hung to her shoulders in a silky bob, before he added, ‘Unless you make it one, of course.’
‘I… That is—’ She was spluttering, she realised suddenly, and with the knowledge came a flood of angry adrenaline that strengthened her voice as her mind became clearer. If he thought she was some pathetic little doormat who would let him walk all over her just because he was bailing them out, he’d got another think coming! She was no one’s whipping boy. ‘I have no intention of making it one,’ she answered smartly.
‘This is good.’
Georgie’s soft mouth tightened further as she caught what she was sure was the hint of laughter in the dark voice, although his face was betraying no amusement whatsoever, and she struggled to keep her tone even and cool as she said, ‘In fact, I don’t expect to be working for Robert much longer, actually. It’s far better that he has someone else working for him here so that I can divide my time between looking after the children and temping work. So I doubt our paths will cross after that.’
To her absolute horror he sat down on a corner of the desk, his body warmth reaching into her air space as he said quietly, ‘Ah, yes, the children. How old are they? Are they coping?’
That same expensive and utterly delicious smell she’d caught wafting off the hard tanned body before was doing wicked things to her hormones, but Georgie was pleased to note nothing of her inward turmoil showed in her voice as she answered evenly, ‘The twins are seven, coming up for eight, and they are coping pretty well on the whole. They have lots of friends and their teacher at school at the moment is actually Sandra’s—their mother’s—best friend, so she is being an absolute brick.’
‘And your brother?’ he asked quietly, his head tilting as he moved a fraction closer which made her heartbeat quicken. ‘How is he doing?’
Georgie cleared her throat. There were probably a million and one men who could sit on her desk all day if they so wished without her turning a hair and without one stray thought coming into her mind. Matt de Capistrano was not one of them.
‘Robert is naturally devastated,’ she said even more quietly than he had spoken. ‘Sandra was his world. They’d known each other since they were children and after they married they even worked together, so their lives were intrinsically linked.’
‘I see.’ He nodded slowly, and Georgie wondered if he was aware of just how sexy he looked when he narrowed his eyes like that. ‘Such devotion is unusual, one might even say exceptional in this day and age of supermarket marriage.’
‘Supermarket marriage?’ she asked bewilderedly.
‘One samples one brand for a while before purchasing another and then another,’ he drawled in cynical explanation. ‘The lawyers get fatter than anyone, of course.’
‘Not all marriages are like that,’ Georgie objected steadily. ‘Some people fall in love and it lasts a lifetime.’
The grey eyes fastened even more piercingly