Her Not-So-Secret Diary. Anne Oliver
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got an impression of height, power and stunning sexuality while a pair of enigmatic olive-green eyes studied her. And her stomach dropped to her professional, low-heeled, sling-back shoes.
‘Ms Buchanan, I presume?’
CHAPTER TWO
HOW long had he been standing there?
‘Yes … Ah … Sophie … ‘ she managed, two stuttering heartbeats later. ‘Sophie Buchanan.’
And, oh … he was gorgeous, from the sun-bleached tips of his dark brown hair to that clean-shaven jaw that looked strong enough to crack rocks on. From the pressed white shirt and charcoal tie to the fresh sandalwood soap scent winding through her senses. She didn’t dare let her gaze wander down the rest of him.
He was the kind of man that made you momentarily forget your own name because you were too busy drawing breath and taking in the view.
For heaven’s sake, you could be in serious trouble here, girl. Focus. She dragged the scattered remnants of her business self together. ‘Good morning … Mr Sanderson … I was just … I’ve brought your agenda … up.’ Then, as if she hadn’t just been hacking into his computer without his knowledge, she walked smartly around from behind his desk, stuck out her hand. Smiled. And, for once, thanked the genes that had bestowed her with a five-feet-ten height advantage—but still it wasn’t enough because this man was at least six feet two. ‘I’m looking forward to working with you today.’
His firm unyielding palm met hers—an instant zap—and she had to force herself not to think about the way he’d palmed her breasts in her dream last night.
Because nothing surer, this was that guy.
And that was bad. Very bad. She didn’t want her dream lover spilling into her working life and she needed every day’s employment she could get. How was she going to face him all day today and not remember how it felt to be made mad, passionate and sizzling love to? And more importantly, not to let it show?
At least he didn’t know. He couldn’t … Or did he? One corner of his mouth stretched into some semblance of a smile but the eyes … there was a lot going on behind those shadowed green eyes.
‘Call me Jared,’ he said, still imprisoning her hand within his large firm grip. ‘We keep things informal around here.’
Yes, very informal. Smile still frozen in place, she tugged her fingers from his grasp, clasped her tingling hand at her side and reminded herself that he hadn’t bothered to introduce himself yesterday. ‘Right. Jared—’ She practically bit off the word and pressed her lips together. She had not just moaned his name the way she had last night, but guilty heat streaked into her cheeks anyway. He was only speaking to her now because she was in his office.
To delete an email from his computer.
The screen of which he was studying, brows lowered. Against her will, her eyes flicked there too, to make sure the file hadn’t somehow popped up again. When she looked back at him he was studying her with that same inscrutable expression.
He seemed to shake it away and said, ‘I apologise for missing you yesterday, I had to rush off. My sister went into labour and her husband was unavoidably detained. I trust Mimi looked after you?’
The receptionist. ‘Yes, she did.’ Sophie instantly forgave him for yesterday’s lapse. How many guys were so involved with their sisters that they’d rush off to be with them during labour? Unlike her brother, who’d not contacted her since he’d escaped the hell that was their home and moved to Melbourne years ago.
‘Did everything go okay?’ she said, relieved to have something other than that dreaded email and the sexual buzz that seemed to surround them to focus on. ‘What did she have?’
His eyes warmed and, oh, my, he had the most disarmingly crooked grin that kind of creased his left cheek and threatened to buckle her knees.
‘Everything went great.’ If he’d been the father he couldn’t have sounded more delighted. ‘It’s a girl. Arabella. Three and a half kilos or seven pounds seven ounces in the old money.’
‘Wonderful. Lovely name.’ She paused. ‘So I guess you were busy last night, then. Celebrating?’ Far too busy to catch up on boring old matters such as emails from the office.
He looked at her with an unsettling directness, as if he’d heard her thoughts. Indeed, as if he knew what she’d been enjoying last night, with him. And more of that blood pumped into her cheeks.
He smiled again, that warmth back in his eyes. ‘Melissa and I had a champagne or two.’
Melissa? He was involved. Sophie felt as if something had jabbed her skin and left her deflating piece by piece. She had to force her shoulders back and stand straight. Pam hadn’t let her in on that little snippet. She’d told her he didn’t have time for relationships, his family took precedence, that women were way down on his list, and, no, he wasn’t gay.
Sophie reminded herself quickly and sternly that it made no difference. In fact it was good. Great. Men were off her agenda for life. And she was going overseas in three weeks and five days.
She lifted her chin to demonstrate a confidence she was far from feeling. ‘I won’t hold you up. I know you have an eight a.m. meeting in Coolangatta.’ Thank heavens. She could—
‘No rush,’ he said in that steel and velvet voice that both startled and enticed.
‘I …’ She watched the way the muscles in his back shifted beneath the smooth white cotton as he sank into his plush leather chair. Held her breath and waited for her heart to stop while she watched his long tanned fingers work the keyboard and … Oh, dear … Remembered those clever fingers working on her body … The sensation peppered her skin with instant goose-bumps.
She shook the fantasy away. More important to worry about how long he’d been watching her at his desk and what he’d seen. From her position, she saw him click off his agenda and bring up his emails. Her stomach tightened. Oh, no.
‘Wouldn’t want to miss anything important.’ He glanced sideways at her, although how a glance could scour your eyes for every secret you’d ever kept and last for eternity—
Prickly heat climbed up her neck and her hand rose unsteadily to play with the button at her throat. ‘I’ll let you get on with it,’ she said, backing away before he decided to open his Deleted Items folder and flash her private thoughts onto the screen and … she’d just die of embarrassment. No, no, she reminded her stunned self, she’d deleted it permanently. She was off the hook—
‘What’s this?’ He stilled, leaning closer to the screen, blocking Sophie’s view and her heart jumped into her mouth again. ‘This is your work, I take it?’ He turned slowly towards her. His eyes seemed darker and there was a gleam there that she was sure hadn’t been there before.
She found herself backing away from his powerful gaze as if pushed by some physical force. Her hands alternately fluttered and clenched in front of her. ‘I can … explain …’
‘No need.’ He leaned back in his chair, a slow smile touching his lips. ‘I left it with Pam but I see you’ve finished it. Everything looks to be in order, you can email it today.’
The Lygon report. A sigh escaped her lips, instantly bitten off when she caught him still watching her, eyes darker than she’d thought. She straightened. ‘I’ll get right on it.’
‘This afternoon will be soon enough.’ He glanced back at the screen, then said, ‘Nothing else here that can’t wait.’
He rose and she almost sagged with relief. Her legs were like jelly and she really, really wanted to escape to her desk and regroup.
But before she could propel herself forward—rather, backward and away—he opened his briefcase, pulled out a few