The Blind-date Proposal. Jessica Hart
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Kate was just surprised that she had hung in as long as she had. This was her third week and, judging by Finn’s expression, it might well be her last.
She wasn’t surprised the others had given up. Finn McBride gave a whole new dimension to the notion of grumpiness and he had an unpleasantly sarcastic edge to his tongue. If she hadn’t been desperate for a job, she would have been tempted to walk out on him as well.
‘I said I was sorry,’ she said a little sullenly. ‘Not that I should have to apologise for community spirit,’ she went on, still too fired up by her encounter that morning to be able to summon up the correct degree of subservience that no doubt came naturally to Alison.
Finn was unimpressed. His cold grey eyes raked her from head to foot, taking in every detail of her tangled hair and dishevelled clothes and stopping with exasperation on her laddered tights.
‘I encourage my staff to do what I pay them to do,’ he said frigidly, ‘and that’s what they do. You, on the other hand, appear to think that I should pay you to breeze in and distract everyone else in the office all day.’
Kate gaped at the unfairness of it. She had made efforts to get to know the rest of the staff, but without any great success. They didn’t seem to be great ones for gossiping and, on the few occasions she had managed to strike up a conversation, Finn had been safely shut in his office. He must have X-ray eyes if he had noticed her talking to anyone!
‘I don’t distract anyone,’ she protested.
‘It sounds that way to me,’ said Finn. ‘You’re always out in the corridor or in the other offices chatting.’
‘It’s called social interaction,’ said Kate, provoked. ‘It’s what humans do, not that you’d know that of course. It’s like working with robots in this office,’ she went on, forgetting for a moment how much she needed this job. ‘I’m lucky if I get a good morning from you, and even that I have to translate from a grunt!’
The dark brows twitched together into a terrifying glare. ‘Alison never complains.’
‘Maybe Alison likes being treated like just another piece of office equipment,’ she said tartly. ‘It wouldn’t kill you to show a little interest occasionally.’
Finn glowered at her, and Kate wondered whether he was so unused to anyone daring to argue with him that he was taken aback.
If so, he soon recovered. ‘I haven’t time to waste the day bolstering your ego,’ he snapped.
‘It doesn’t take long to be pleasant.’ Kate refused to be cowed now. ‘You could always start with something easy like “how are you?”, or “have a nice weekend”,’ she suggested. ‘And then, when you’d got the hang of that, you could work up to trickier phrases like “thank you for all your help today”.’
‘I can’t see me having much need of that one while you’re around,’ said Finn nastily. ‘And frankly, even if I did, I don’t see why I should change my habits for you. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m the boss here, so if you can’t cope without constant attention, you’d better say so now and I’ll get Personnel to find me another temp for Monday!’
That was enough to pull Kate up short. She really couldn’t afford to lose this job. The agency had been reluctant enough to send her as it was and, if she messed this up, she’d be lucky if they didn’t drop her from their books.
‘I can cope,’ she said quickly. ‘I just don’t like it.’
‘You don’t have to like it,’ said Finn tersely. ‘You just have to get on with it. Now, can we get on? We’ve wasted quite enough time this morning.’
He barely allowed Kate time to take off her coat before she had to endure a long and exhausting session being dictated to at top speed without so much as a suggestion that she might like a cup of coffee before she started. What with befriending old ladies and diversions to Paddington, she hadn’t had time to grab her usual cappuccino from the Italian coffee bar by the tube station, and the craving for caffeine did nothing to improve her temper.
She simmered as her pen raced over the page—at this rate she would get repetitive strain injury—and could barely restrain a sigh of relief when the phone rang. A breather at last!
Holding her aching wrist with exaggerated care, so that Finn might take the hint and slow down—although there was fat chance of that!—Kate studied him surreptitiously under her lashes. He was listening to the person on the other end of the phone, grunting the occasional acknowledgement, and absently drawing heavy black boxes on a piece of paper on the desk in front of him.
Doodling was supposed to be highly revealing about your personality. What did black boxes mean? Kate wondered. Probably indicative of someone deeply repressed. That would fit with his closed expression and that reserved uptight air of his.
Although not with that air of fierce energy.
Or his mouth, come to think of it.
Kate jerked her eyes quickly away. She looked instead at the framed photograph that stood on his desk, the only personal touch in the otherwise austerely efficient office. From where she sat, she could only see the stand, but she knew it showed an absolutely beautiful woman with dark hair and enormous dark blue eyes, holding the most gorgeous baby, and both smiling at the camera.
Finn’s wife, Kate had assumed, marvelling that he had had enough social skills to ask anyone to marry him, let alone a beauty like that. It was hard to imagine him smiling or kissing or even holding a baby, let alone making love.
Bizarre thought. An odd feeling snaked down Kate’s spine and she shook herself slightly, only to find herself looking straight into Finn’s glacial grey eyes. He had finished his phone call while she was distracted and was watching her with an expression of exasperated resignation.
‘Are you awake?’
‘Yes.’ Faint colour tinged Kate’s cheeks as she sat up straighter and picked up her notebook once more.
‘Read back that last bit.’
Please, Kate wanted to mutter, but decided on reflection that this might not be the day to try and teach Finn some manners. His brusqueness left her feeling crotchety and, when he finally let her go, she took out her bad temper on her keyboard, bashing away furiously until the phone rang.
‘Yes?’ she snapped, too cross to bother with the usual introductory spiel.
‘It’s Phoebe.’
‘Oh, Phoebe…hi.’
‘What’s up? You sound very grumpy.’
‘It’s just my boss here,’ Kate grumbled. ‘He’s so rude and unpleasant. I know you thought working for Celia was bad, but honestly, he gives a whole new dimension to the idea of the boss from hell.’
‘As long as he’s not a creep like your last boss,’ said Phoebe bracingly.
Kate wrinkled her nose remembering her ignominious departure from her last job, where her boss hadn’t even made a pretence of listening to her side of the story once Seb had got in first. Seb, of course, was an executive, and she was just a secretary and by implication dispensable.
‘No, I don’t think you could call him a creep,’ she said judiciously, ‘but that doesn’t make him any easier to deal with.’
‘Attractive?’ asked Phoebe.
‘Quite,’ Kate admitted grudgingly. ‘In a stern sort of way, I suppose. If you like the dour, my-work-is-my-life type—which I happen to know that you don’t!’
‘I don’t think anyone could call Gib dour, no,’ said Phoebe.
They both laughed, and Kate felt a lot better. It was wonderful to hear Phoebe so happy. The transformation in her friend since she had married Gib a few months ago had been remarkable, and it made up for her own dismal love life since Seb had dumped her so unceremoniously. She didn’t