The Girl He Never Noticed. Lindsay Armstrong
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Montrose,’ he said.
‘Mr Hillier,’ she responded.
He looked her up and down, taking in her stylish outfit, the sheen of her hair and her glossy mouth. And his lips quirked as he said, ‘Hard to connect you with the wall-climbing cat burglar of last night.’
Liz directed him a tart little look before lowering her carefully darkened lashes, and said nothing.
‘So I take it you’re quite restored, Liz?’
‘Yes,’ she said coolly, and wasn’t going to elaborate, but then thought better of it. ‘Thank you. You were…’ She couldn’t think of the right word. ‘Thank you.’
‘That’s all right.’
The lift slid to a stop and the doors opened, revealing the Hillier foyer, but for some strange reason neither of them made a move immediately. Not so strange, though, Liz thought suddenly. In the sense that it had happened to her before, in his car last evening, when she’d been trapped in a bubble of acute awareness of Cameron Hillier.
His suit was different today—slate-grey, worn with a pale blue shirt and a navy and silver tie—but it was just as beautifully tailored and moulded his broad shoulders just as effectively. There was a narrow black leather belt around his lean waist, and his black shoes shone and looked to be handmade.
But it wasn’t a case of clothes making the man, Liz thought. It was the other way around. Add to that the tingling fresh aura of a man who’d showered and shaved recently, the comb lines in his thick hair, those intriguing blue eyes and his long-fingered hands…Her eyes widened as she realised even his hands impressed her. All of him stirred her senses in a way that made her long to have some physical contact with him—a touch, a mingling of their breath as they kissed…
Then their gazes lifted to each other’s and she could see a nerve flickering in his jaw—a nerve that told her he was battling a similar compulsion. She’d known from the way he’d looked at her last night that he was no longer seeing her as a stick of furniture, but to think that he wanted her as she seemed to want him was electrifying.
It was as the lift doors started to close that they came out of their long moment of immobility. He pressed a button and the doors reversed their motion. He gestured for her to step out ahead of him.
She did so with a murmured thank-you, and headed for her small office. They both greeted Molly Swanson.
‘Uh—give me ten minutes, then bring the diary in, Liz. And coffee, please, Molly.’ He strode through into his office.
‘How did it go? Last night?’ Molly enquired. ‘By the way, I’ve already had three calls from Miss Pengelly!’
‘Oh, dear.’ Liz grimaced. ‘I’m afraid it might be over.’
‘Probably just as well,’ Molly said with a wise little look in her eyes. ‘What he needs is a proper wife, not these film star types—I never thought she could act her way out of a paper bag, anyway!’
Liz blinked, but fortunately Molly was diverted by the discreet buzzing of her phone.
* * *
Eight minutes later, Liz gathered herself in readiness to present herself to her employer with the diary.
She’d poured herself a cup of cold water from the cooler, but instead of drinking it she’d dipped her hanky into it and splashed her wrists and patted her forehead.
I must be mad, she’d thought. He must be mad even to contemplate getting involved with me. Or is all he has in mind a replacement for Portia? Someone to deflect all the women he attracts—and I refuse to believe it’s only because of his money.
Things were back to thoroughly businesslike as they went through his engagements for the day one by one, and he sipped strong black aromatic coffee from a Lalique glass in a silver holder.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘Have you got the briefs for the Fortune conference?’
She nodded.
‘I’ll want you there. There’s quite a bit of paperwork to be passed around and collected, et cetera. And I’ll need you to drive me to and pick me up from the Bromwich lunch. There’s no damn parking to be found for miles.’
‘Fine,’ she murmured, then hesitated.
He looked up. ‘A problem?’
‘You want me to drive your car?’
‘Why not?’
‘To be honest—’ Liz bit her lip ‘—I’d be petrified of putting a scratch on it.’
He sat back. ‘Hadn’t thought of that. So would I—to be honest.’ He looked wry. ‘Uh—get a car from the car pool.’
Liz relaxed. ‘I think that’s a much better idea.’
His lips twitched, and she thought he was going to say something humorous, but the moment passed and he looked at her in the completely deadpan way he had that had a built-in annoyance factor for anyone on the receiving end of it.
Liz was not immune to the annoyance as she found herself reduced to the status of a slightly troublesome employee. Then, if anything, she got more annoyed—but with herself. She had been distinctly frosty in the lift before they’d found themselves trapped in that curious moment of physical awareness, hadn’t she?
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