Outback With The Boss. Barbara Hannay
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I get it! It’s not Wentworth who’s your problem. It’s the boyfriend, Henry. I should have guessed.’
Grace rolled her eyes. ‘I made the mistake of outlining the plot of Wentworth’s next movie New Tomorrow and now Henry spends every night designing fancy computer graphics he’s absolutely convinced Wentworth will want to use.’
‘So he doesn’t have any time for you?’
‘Exactly,’ Grace snapped.
She’d met Henry soon after arriving in Townsville from Sydney and it had been good to have someone to show her around. But over the past fortnight, as his obsession with impressing her new boss had gained momentum, her enthusiasm for him had diminished rather rapidly.
Grace’s track record with men made her extra wary. She was still plagued by memories of Roger the Rat, a super-suave mover and shaker, who’d broken her heart. After that shattering experience, it hadn’t taken long to convince her that the business world was a breeding ground for men who were superficially quite gorgeous, but so full of their own egos, they trampled all over women and usually left them feeling used and abused.
That was why she’d dated Henry. He wasn’t handsome, but he had other virtues Grace preferred these days. He was scholarly and serious and, most importantly, safe.
She’d shrugged. ‘I—I don’t think it’s that Henry’s not interested. It’s just that he gets kind of…distracted.’
A disgusted grunt had prefaced Maria’s response. ‘Distracted? What can divert a real man from your long legs and green eyes, not to mention the bits in between?’
Grace let out a short, self-conscious laugh. ‘Computers are very fascinating toys.’
With a groan, Maria threw her head back and had stared at the cafeteria’s ceiling. Then she had slowly lowered her gaze. ‘You two are getting physical, aren’t you?’
Feeling distinctly uneasy, Grace ran nervous fingers through her thick tawny hair, flicking it away from her collar. ‘We will—I’m sure. I feel quite—er—fond of Henry. It’s—it’s all a matter of—timing.’
‘Timing?’ Maria almost shrieked. She shook her head in dismay. ‘My dear girl, the answer’s clear-cut. You forget about Henry and set your sights higher.’
‘Higher? How much higher? What do you mean?’
‘Mitch Wentworth, of course. You could snaffle the new boss. You’ve certainly got everything it takes.’ Maria had looked down at her own chubby figure and groaned. ‘If only I didn’t love chocolate.’
Grace jumped to her feet. ‘The new boss? For crying out loud, Maria, where’s your loyalty? Think what he’s done to our old boss, George Hervey. The poor old fellow’s been tossed on the scrap heap by this take-over. Wentworth just blasted his way into Tropicana Films and we’re expected to whip straight into “Yes, sir. No, sir”.’
She sat down again and reached for her friend’s hand. ‘Thanks for the sympathetic ear, but you’re way off beam. I can’t stand the idea of even working for the man, let alone…’ Her mind had darted frantically away from the mere thought of making a play for her boss. She slumped back into her chair. ‘I’ll definitely stick with Henry.’
‘You’re sure?’
Suddenly Grace had been very sure.
Having a boyfriend like Henry was sensible and safe—like wearing a seat belt in a car. But giving a bully-boy showman like Mitch Wentworth so much as a second glance was as wise as skinny-dipping with sharks. ‘I’ve just got to find some way to get Henry away from his computer and interested in me again.’
Maria’s face was split by a sudden grin. ‘Don’t worry, my dear. I can feel a bright idea coming on. We’ll put an end to this nonsense of Henry’s. Tonight’s the night. Before our Mr. Wentworth gets here to totally distract your boyfriend, we’ll undistract him. We’ll make Henry notice you!’
‘Oh, I don’t know if that’s necessary.’ Maria had started to get just a touch too pushy. How had one little gripe about Mitch Wentworth escalated to the point where her friend had been about to launch a rescue mission on her love life?
‘I appreciate your good intentions,’ she’d hedged, disliking the hard edge in her tone, but too tense to do anything about it. ‘But I’m not quite dateless and desperate. And I really think this is just between Henry and me.’
Grace’s glance fell to Mitch Wentworth’s grinning face on the cover of Movie Mag and an image of him standing in her office had floated dangerously into her thoughts. Once her new boss arrived, that cheeky smile, those naughty-boy eyes and those highly indecent muscles would be mere inches away from her.
Maria eyed her shrewdly and Grace had the terrible feeling that the other woman knew exactly what was bugging her! How on earth could she carry on with her work each day while a man like Mitch Wentworth flaunted his lethal, sexy weapons around her office?
He hadn’t even arrived yet and already her thoughts had been trailing in his direction like ants to a picnic basket.
That shocking realisation had prompted Grace into action. ‘Okay, you win,’ she’d told Maria. ‘I’ll give Henry one last chance. What’s your brilliant idea?’
But listening to Maria’s action plan had been the easy part.
Now, as Grace stood eyeing her reflection in Henry’s mirror, the sight of her wide, anxious eyes and her nervous, fiddling fingers reminded her that she wasn’t really up to the task ahead.
She could deal with the twinge of guilt she felt about leaving work early and letting herself into Henry’s flat. The missed time could be made up on another day.
But she couldn’t face the final step.
This mission was impossible. There was no way she could pose at Henry’s front door and carry out the rest of the plan.
The sense of elation Mitch Wentworth had hoped for when he’d arrived in Townsville was somehow evading him. It must be jet lag, he told himself as he ran a weary hand over his eyes. A flight from San Francisco with only a few hours’ stopover in his home town, Sydney, before heading north to Townsville would knock the stuffing out of most travellers. And it was probably a mistake to take a peek at his brand-new baby—the Tropicana Films studios—unannounced and so late in the day.
At this stage, there was only an advance team working on the project, so he’d expected half the offices to be empty. And it was six-thirty in the evening, so it was not surprising that all his employees had gone home.
Even the formidable Ms Robbins.
Her name was on the door of the office in front of him. Grace Robbins. After all George Hervey had told him about this woman’s efficiency, dedication to the company and amazingly wide range of skills, he thought that perhaps—just perhaps—she might have stayed behind to meet him. In fact, once he’d faxed her his flight times, he’d almost expected her to greet him at the airport.
As he’d made his way through the Townsville terminal, he had kept a weather eye out for a middle-aged woman, conservatively dressed, brandishing perhaps a clipboard or some other weapon of efficiency. That was how he pictured Grace Robbins after listening to George’s twenty-minute eulogy of her.
Clearly George’s praise had been way too enthusiastic and his claims too exaggerated. It was a regrettable oversight, Mitch decided as he moved into her office. He was going out on a financial limb with New Tomorrow. With almost all his own money invested in it, this movie had to be a resounding hit and he needed the best possible staff to support him. He expected Ms Robbins to be a key player in the project.
Shrugging aside his annoyance, Mitch tried to be reasonable. Perhaps he shouldn’t judge the woman just because she wasn’t still here when he crept into town virtually unannounced. He’d only sent the fax just before he left Sydney and she might have had an appointment—any number