First Love, Last Love. Кэрол Мортимер
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too deeply into why she had been standing aimlessly about in the corridor. If she had Lauri might have had to reveal that she had called the owner of the company arrogant, had accused him of being insulting, and of tricking her into revealing that she was a learner driver.
She might also have inadvertently revealed that Alexander Blair had invited her out to dinner, although invited was perhaps the wrong word to use. It had been an order, but a strange one, despite his assertion that he wanted to discuss terms for payment on the damage to his car. Terms! What could he mean by that? He had been furious at her assumption that he had any but the best intentions in mind, but she didn’t think it could have been an entirely innocent suggestion. How on earth could she pay him back, unless he intended taking it from her wages, a little each week?
Perhaps that was what he had in mind, although surely he didn’t need to invite her out to dinner to discuss that. Maybe he was at a loose end and wanted someone to amuse him for a few hours. And she had to admit, she certainly seemed to amuse him. Whatever his reason, she shouldn’t have turned him down. He could make things pretty awkward for the whole of her family if he chose to.
It was for that reason, and that reason alone, that she decided to accept his dinner invitation. The trouble was telling him she had accepted!
She walked casually up to Carly’s desk as she sat in her sectioned-off office, the partition walls consisting mainly of windows so that she could see what was going on in the outer office.
‘Is there something wrong?’ Carly looked up from the holiday rota she was working on.
‘Er—no, not really. I—– Do you think I could use your telephone?’ she said in a rush. ‘I know you’ve said in the past that we can, but I’ve never needed to bother before.’
‘Of course you can,’ Carly stood up to vacate the office to give her privacy for the call. ‘Give me a shout when you’ve finished.’
‘Thanks.’ Lauri gave her a grateful smile, relieved that her supervisor had shown no curiosity about who she would be telephoning.
She had to look up the number for Alexander Blair’s office, aware that she would have to go through her aunt to speak to the man himself. Was it worth it? she asked herself. It had to be if it meant they all kept their jobs.
‘Er—good morning,’ she said as the telephone was suddenly answered by Jane, deliberately deepening her voice and giving a husky sound to it that had sexual undertones. ‘Could I speak to Alexander, please?’ she asked in that same sexy voice.
For a moment there was silence and Lauri wondered if her ruse had gone wrong. If Jane should guess it was her little niece on the line …! ‘Who shall I say is calling?’ came Jane’s businesslike reply.
Lauri heaved an inward sigh of relief. At least she hadn’t been recognised yet. Now came the hard part ‘Tell him it’s—Lauren.’ After all, he did call her that, and strangely he was the only one ever to do so, giving an intimacy to their relationship that didn’t exist
‘Lauren …?’ Jane was obviously prompting for a surname.
‘Just Lauren.’ She forced a provocative laugh. ‘He’ll know who it is.’ She hoped! How awful if he demanded to know Lauren who?
‘Very well.’ Jane sounded at her most haughty, which meant she wasn’t pleased at being treated in this high-handed manner, even by someone she thought to be another of Alexander Blair’s girl-friends.
Did he have girl-friends? She doubted it. He was much too sophisticated and sure of himself to tolerate naïveté in one of his women. No, he would go for women who knew exactly what they were doing, women who—–
‘I’m putting you through now,’ Jane abruptly interrupted her thoughts.
Thank goodness he had remembered her. ‘Thank you so much,’ she replied in the sexy voice she had been using for the whole of the conversation.
‘Glad to be of help,’ drawled the unmistakable voice of Alexander Blair. ‘Although this doesn’t sound like the Lauren I know, and I haven’t the faintest idea what I’m being thanked for.’
‘I wasn’t thanking you!’ she told him in her normal voice.
‘Ah, that’s better.’ He sounded mocking even over the telephone. ‘Why the change in voice?’ he asked interestedly.
‘I didn’t want to be recognised. After all,’ she added hastily, ‘I do work here. I wouldn’t want your secretary to make the connection between Lauri in the typing pool and the Lauren who just telephoned you.’
‘Is that likely?’
‘I—– Well, it could be.’
‘I would doubt my secretary is any more familiar with the girls in the typing pool than I am,’ he drawled mockingly. ‘Would you?’
This girl she was! ‘Probably not,’ she evaded a direct answer. ‘But it wasn’t worth the risk.’
‘Would it be too much to ask what this call is about? I thought it had been decided that your—friend was to take the blame for allowing you to drive his car.’
‘Yes, well, I—I’ve been thinking, and—and—–’
‘And?’ he prompted tersely.
‘And if your invitation to dinner still stands I would like to discuss—terms.’
‘It doesn’t,’ he told her curtly. ‘Forget the dinner invitation.’
‘Oh.’ Her heart sank. She had been rude to him and he wasn’t about to forgive such an insult from a nobody like her. ‘Please, Mr Blair. I’m sorry for what I said. I—–’
‘The dinner invitation is out,’ he repeated. ‘But one for lunch today is open,’ he added enquiringly.
‘Lunch today?’ Her mouth gaped open and she quickly closed it again, realising that although her conversation couldn’t be heard by the girls outside the office her reaction to it could clearly be seen.
‘Well?’ he rasped, pretty much as he had done after administering that punishing kiss yesterday.
‘I—–’
‘Or do you usually have lunch with your boy-friend?’ he interrupted before she could form an answer.
‘Not always. Usually, but not always.’
‘Then today can be one of the exceptions.’ It sounded like an order. ‘I’ll meet you in reception at twelve-thirty.’
‘No! No, Mr Blair,’ she said more calmly. ‘I’d rather meet you somewhere away from here.’
‘I am not in the habit of sneaking out to meet anyone.’ His icy anger could quite easily be detected.
‘Then perhaps you shouldn’t take insignificant typists from your own typing pool to lunch.’ Her own anger equalled his. ‘That way you wouldn’t have to sneak around.’
‘Lauren—–’ he began in a threatening tone.
‘Okay, okay, I’m sorry,’ she sighed. ‘But you got angry first,’ she accused.
To her surprise she heard him chuckle, a rich deep sound that made her feel like smiling too. ‘Okay,’ he accepted, ‘I got angry first. But who made me angry, hmm?’
‘I did,’ she admitted freely. ‘But try to understand, I don’t want to be seen with you.’
‘Thanks!’
She sighed. ‘Will you stop misunderstanding everything I say?’ she snapped.
‘As long as you promise to stop reprimanding me,’ he returned smoothly.
‘Reprimanding you? Me? Don’t be ridiculous!’
‘You see,’