CHAPTER FOUR

      DAVID, of course, sat at the head of the table in the boardroom. The four men from Germany were spread on either side of him, two on his right, two on his left. Herr Schmidt, the leader of the delegation, was pointing out something in the documents in front of him when Caitlin entered. The attention of the five men swung to her.

      David glowered at her. Herr Schmidt frowned at the interruption. The expressions on the other men’s faces ranged from interested spectator to a deadpan weighing of what her unheralded appearance meant. They all looked tough, experienced, executive businessmen. None had the magnetic charisma that David could exude so effortlessly.

      To Caitlin he dominated the room, just as he had dominated her life for the last four months. The thought spurred her to renewed determination.

      No more domination.

      This was her swan-song. She would use David’s tactics and give them her own twist. She might not be special to him, but he wouldn’t forget her in a hurry. Not for what she was about to do. She hoped it would make him burn. In the right places.

      She walked briskly to the end of the table, facing David down the length of it. ‘Mr Hartley, we have chaos in the office,’ she announced, showing no perturbation at all at dropping bombshells in the boardroom.

      ‘I know that.’ His voice had the low rumble of an incipient earthquake.

      ‘You’ll be pleased to hear that the Sutherland contract has arrived. All signed, sealed and delivered,’ she stated wearily, as though it was one more chore to deal with on top of everything else.

      ‘Good.’ He gave her a frozen smile.

      ‘How we’re going to get that amount of product out on to the market in time, I do not know.’

      ‘Miss Ross...’ he looked sharply at the German delegation ‘...please take control of yourself.’

      ‘Fifteen hundred units,’ she burbled on. He knew as well as she knew how grossly exaggerated that figure was. The German delegation did not.

      ‘Miss Ross,’ he said sharply, ‘this is confidential information. Please be careful what you say. Where’s Jordan?’

      She aimed a sigh of exasperation at him. ‘Mr Jordan left to clinch a huge deal with a string of business colleges,’ she went on, treating his warning about confidentiality as totally irrelevant in the circumstances. ‘Sell, sell, sell. That’s all he can do. The man is like a robot.’

      ‘I didn’t know he’d gone.’ David looked vexed. ‘He’s supposed to be here.’

      ‘I haven’t had a moment to tell you.’ Caitlin put some vexation into her voice. ‘As you’re aware, the phone-lines have been engaged all morning. All the other salesmen are out, too. Every blasted one of them. We can’t cover the volume of work that’s pouring in. For one thing, we need more phone-lines...’

      David passed a weary hand over his face. ‘What point are you coming to, Miss Ross?’

      ‘There’s an overload of work. I’m needed elsewhere. The matter is urgent,’ she stated emphatically. ‘I require permission to leave the office. It’s mandatory. I need to take the afternoon off to attend to what has to be done.’

      Danger signals glimmered in his eyes. ‘I have guests here from a foreign country who have to be attended to and looked after with the proper courtesy and respect, Miss Ross. Permission refused!’

      Caitlin set her mouth into a long-suffering line. She threw a glance at the heavens as though praying for patience. She had seen him do the same action this morning, so had no trouble in duplicating it. It didn’t work any better for her than it did for him.

      Patience was not bestowed on her.

      She dropped her gaze to David and gave him a long, glittering glare. Then she tossed her hair in defiance, flounced around the table to where he sat, and slapped the Sutherland file down in front of him.

      ‘Sir!’ She took a deep breath. Her breasts lifted, drawing every eye on either side of the table to the lace inserts of her blouse. Her hands planted themselves on her hips. ‘Something has to give,’ she declared with passionate conviction. ‘It’s prob-ably me!’

      Everyone was quite fascinated by now. She had their full attention. Including David’s. Especially David’s. She hoped he was getting the underlying personal message loud and clear. She was not going to go his way any more.

      ‘Something is going to give,’ he said grimly, ‘and I agree that it’s likely to be you.’

      ‘You need to employ more staff.’

      ‘I’ll certainly be dealing with that, Miss Ross.’ The purpose behind those words was unmistakable. She had not only crossed the Rubicon, she had committed hara-kiri on every level by not staying in the pigeonhole he’d built for her.

      ‘Can we go into recess on this?’ She would give him one last chance to be reasonable.

      ‘Not at the present moment.’

      Green eyes sizzled into blue, giving him her message in no uncertain terms. ‘Very well,’ she snapped. ‘Please understand I can no longer handle all you require of me. I cannot meet the standards you demand of me. The overtime is excessive and unrewarding. We have come to the end of the line, you and I. Finis. Full stop. Goodbye.’

      He was rising to his feet. ‘Miss Ross!’ he cried out hoarsely, obviously shaken to his bootstraps. Such antics had never been seen in this boardroom before.

      ‘Stay where you are, Mr Hartley. There’s no need to say or do anything. Business comes first. Remember this morning.’ She hoped he did.

      With another toss of her hair she turned to march away from him. There was one last thing she could do. She would do it and end this farce. She took three steps, stopped, then swung back to address the head of the German delegation. Herr Schmidt was a big, burly man with sharp grey eyes. He