Passion From The Past. Кэрол Мортимер
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her was confidential, he couldn’t just reveal those sort of things to anyone. Although James Courtney had never expressed an interest in her private life.
She shrugged. After all, what harm could it do? ‘No, I don’t have a boy-friend.’
He raised surprised eyebrows. ‘You’re very attractive.’
With her hair free about her shoulders, and younger, attractive clothing, she was perhaps passable, but she certainly wasn’t ‘very attractive’.
‘When you look the nineteen you are,’ he seemed to guess her thoughts. ‘And don’t try to look and act ten years older.’
Colour flooded Laura’s cheeks. ‘When did you—I’ve never—When did you see me looking nineteen?’ she asked almost defensively.
He shrugged, a pen held loosely between his long fingers as he played with it idly. Laura found her gaze mesmerised by the way he seemed to almost caress the cold metal, blushing even more as she looked up to find him following her line of vision, his mouth twisting mockingly.
‘I can’t remember,’ he dismissed easily. ‘Somewhere.’
She couldn’t imagine where, she never appeared anything but the more mature person she was at work. Still, Gideon seemed very certain, and he wasn’t a man who would very often be wrong.
‘Your mother is a widow, I believe.’ He seemed in no hurry to begin dictation; he was completely relaxed, his grey eyes narrowed.
‘Yes.’ Laura frowned her puzzlement, once again wondering why he needed to know about her private life.
‘And you have a brother.’
‘Yes,’ she nodded. ‘He lives in America now.’
‘I didn’t realise that. He used to work for us, didn’t he?’
‘Yes,’ she acknowledged eagerly. ‘It was because he liked working here so much that I—But you don’t want to hear about that.’ She bit her lip.
‘On the contrary,’ Gideon prompted.
She shot him a nervous smile; his interest seemed genuine. ‘Martin—that’s my brother—liked working here—–’
‘We try to please,’ Gideon put in dryly.
‘Oh, you do! I mean—Courtneys is a good firm to work for. And—–’
‘Will you have dinner with me this evening?’ he asked quietly.
She raised startled green eyes, her lashes fluttering nervously. ‘I—Sorry?’ She couldn’t have heard him correctly, men like Gideon Maitland didn’t ask little nobodies like her out to dinner!
‘Dinner. With me. Tonight,’ he repeated patiently.
Laura gulped, searching his hard face for some sign of the mockery that never seemed to be far away, but he gazed steadily back at her as he waited for her answer.
But he couldn’t really mean it, not her.
‘Laura?’ he prompted at her continued silence.
‘I—No. I mean, yes. No—–’ She was totally confused, the invitation had been totally unexpected.
Gideon gave a tight smile ‘Don’t use your mother as an excuse to me,’ he more or less confirmed that he had been listening to her conversation for some time before making his presence known. ‘I happen to know that your mother is only fifty years old, and that she has more of a social life than you do.’
It was true. Her mother had joined a Widows, Widowers, and Divorcees Club after Laura’s father had died, and the friends she had made there were always going out for the evening in a crowd, even on the nights the club didn’t meet.
‘So?’ he prompted again.
‘I—–’ She licked her lips nervously, wondering frantically at the reason for this sudden invitation. Maybe he had argued with Petra Wilde and felt in need of amusement—and she certainly seemed to amuse him. ‘You don’t mean it.’
‘But I do. I never say anything I don’t mean.’
‘N-never?’ she faltered uncertainly.
‘Never,’ he confirmed.
She swallowed hard. ‘You—you really do want to take me out to dinner tonight?’
‘I do,’ he nodded.
‘Why?’ Laura frowned.
‘Why not?’ he gave a tight smile.
‘Because—–’
‘Gideon—Oh,’ James Courtney came to a halt just inside the room, looking searchingly at the other man. ‘Have you forgotten we have a meeting with Crewe at two-thirty?’
‘Not at all,’ Gideon denied smoothly. ‘Laura and I were just—talking.’
‘Indeed?’ The older man looked even more puzzled.
Gideon continued to look at Laura, uncaring of his father-in-law’s presence. ‘You haven’t given me your answer.’
She was aware of James Courtney’s speculative looks even if Gideon wasn’t, and stood up to leave. ‘The answer is no, Mr Maitland,’ and she hurried past the surprised James Courtney into her own office.
‘Laura!’ She hadn’t realised Gideon had followed her until he swung her round to face him. ‘I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.’
Her embarrassed gaze passed to James Courtney, and then back to Gideon. ‘No—–’
‘Yes!’ he insisted firmly, his fingers painful on her arm.
‘No …’ But even she was aware that her denial sounded weak this time. How could he do this to her in front of James Courtney! Wasn’t he in the least embarrassed himself in admitting he had invited out his own secretary, a girl far below him both in sophistication and socially? Heavens, one look at Petra Wilde was enough to tell her he must be playing with her—and it was a cruel joke to play on anyone.
‘Laura!’ Gideon shook her.
‘I said no,’ she looked away from him, ‘And I meant no.’
His hand dropped away from her arm. ‘I don’t have the time to argue with you now, I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.’
‘You—–’
‘For God’s sake give in gracefully, girl,’ James Courtney put in tersely. ‘Don’t you know when you’re outmatched?’
She looked at him rebelliously, feeling like a mouse caught between two tormenting cats. ‘I don’t need any advice from you,’ she flashed resentfully. ‘As Mr Maitland told me shortly before you arrived, what I do in the evenings is my own affair. And I don’t choose to be any rich man’s amusement!’ She didn’t wait to see either James Courtney or Gideon’s reaction to her outburst, but ran out of the office and into the ladies’ room further down the corridor. She leant back weakly against the door, hardly able to believe the scene that had just taken place, from Gideon Maitland’s dinner invitation to her angry outburst to James Courtney.
Oh God, what had she done! The least she could expect from her outburst would be a verbal or written reprimand, the worst could be instant dismissal. And after her behaviour just now she probably deserved the latter.
She took a deep controlling breath, the ravages of that unpleasant scene on her white shocked face, the eyes staring back at her in the mirror greener than ever. She couldn’t stay in here all day, she had to go back to the office, if only to collect her handbag and leave. But she dreaded having to face either of the men again.
Her reflection showed her face to be colourless, her youth showing through in that moment, showing her what Gideon Maitland must have seen, a child dressed up to be a woman.