‘Good afternoon.’
If the ceiling had suddenly fallen in on her Lydia couldn’t have reacted more violently. She shot out of her chair, hand to mouth, as she stared at Wolf’s dark countenance in the doorway. It was clear he had heard, and seen, more than enough. ‘I—I didn’t know you were back,’ she stammered, aware she had gone a brilliant red.
‘Obviously.’ He eyed Mike coldly. ‘I presume you are in these offices for a reason, Mike?’
Mike had recovered far more quickly than she had, thrusting his hands casually in his pockets as he faced Wolf with an easy grin. ‘Just wanted a word with you about the figures for Kingston,’ he said calmly, ‘if it’s convenient?’
‘Perhaps later.’ Wolf’s narrowed gaze brushed Lydia’s hot face before he gestured to the finished work on her desk. ‘Bring that in, would you? I’ll glance through it before I do anything else. I want some of those letters to go off tonight.’ His voice was infinitely cold, and she shivered as she glanced at Mike before gathering the files together. ‘I’ll ring you if I have time today, Mike.’ It was a dismissal, and Mike went without another word, not even glancing in Lydia’s direction as he left.
She followed Wolf into his office and placed the work on his desk. ‘You’ve been busy.’ He was looking at the pile of correspondence as he spoke, but she felt the words were the proverbial two-edged sword and remained silent. ‘Sit down, Lydia.’
She sank into the chair facing his desk as he seated himself without taking his eyes off her troubled face. ‘I didn’t know you knew my financial director,’ he said slowly, his voice expressionless but as cold as ice. ‘You didn’t mention it.’
She stared at him helplessly. What on earth was the matter with the man? Why did it matter to him who she knew anyway? ‘I…’ There was something so chilling in his face that it was freezing her thoughts. ‘I didn’t know I had to,’ she said weakly, his aggressiveness making her feel twice as guilty as she did already.
‘How long have you known him?’
This was ridiculous, she thought frantically. Pull yourself together, Lydia, explain you are a friend of Anna’s, talk to the man. But she couldn’t. Those ice-blue eyes were totally unnerving and, when she thought back to how the little tableau in the office must have seemed, embarrassment sent its red fingers all over her face. ‘I don’t know…’ She tried desperately to think of how long Anna and Mike had been married. ‘I think——’
‘No matter.’ He straightened suddenly in his chair as though he had just come to a decision, and she stared at him, alarmed.
‘Do you often wear your hair loose for the office?’ he asked coldly as his gaze moved to the soft, silky locks lying in a shining veil across her shoulders.
‘My hair?’ She raised an unconscious hand to her head as she stared back at him. What had her hair to do with this?
‘I prefer it tied back in the sort of style you wore yesterday,’ he said coolly. ‘As my secretary you have a certain reputation to maintain, and a neat, unassuming appearance gives the sort of impression I like in my staff. There are always men who are inclined to stand and waste time by the desk of a pretty woman, given the slightest encouragement’
She really couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She stared at him open-mouthed as she wondered if what she had heard was what he had really said. ‘Exactly what are you saying?’ she asked, after a moment of stunned silence.
‘I’m saying that I would prefer a more discreet hairstyle,’ he said calmly as he picked up the phone that had begun to ring on his desk and gestured for her to leave. ‘If you don’t mind.’
There was nothing she could do but leave him to take the call, but as she returned to her own office her wits returned along with a flood of hot colour in her face. The cheek of it. The absolute cheek of it! Once that call ended she would tell him that she did mind, she minded very much, the arrogant, overbearing——
‘Could I leave this with you for Mr Strade, please?’ She came out of her silent fury to see one of the office juniors timidly holding out a large sealed envelope. ‘It’s from Mr Collins in Personnel.’
‘Of course.’ Lydia smiled at the nervous girl, who couldn’t have been a day over sixteen, as she took a deep, silent breath. When that call ended, Wolf Strade, when it ended…But half an hour later she was still waiting, by which time her anger had cooled, along with her face, and reason had asserted itself. This was a golden opportunity to get on her feet financially, and if she had to put up with this unpleasant, unreasonable male chauvinist pig as the cloud on which the silver lining was placed, then so be it.
But surely he didn’t expect to choose her clothes and her hairstyle, did he? Even the reputable Mrs Havers couldn’t have tolerated that, surely? She sat back in the chair with a puzzled little sigh. She didn’t understand a thing about this man and, worse still, she didn’t under-stand how he could get under her skin so badly. She had worked for more than a few awkward types in the last three years, but the most she had felt in the past was minor irritation accompanied occasionally by silent contempt for their crassness. But Wolf Strade…He was different. Totally different. And she had a good few months to get through yet. Could she do it? She frowned. Of course.
She thought of Hannah’s bright little face as they had chatted about a Pretty Pony beanbag to match the rest of her proposed new bedroom, and sighed resignedly. But it wasn’t going to be easy. She had the feeling Wolf Strade didn’t like her much, even if he appreciated her attributes as a secretary. Still—she glared across at the closed door as a tiny flame of anger reignited—he shouldn’t have given her the job, should he? She was blowed if she was going to be bullied into altering either her manner or her appearance to suit that pompous swine.
Nevertheless, the next morning she found herself fixing her long hair into a loose knot on the back of her head even as she told herself it was simply because it was less trouble that way. Wolf made no comment when she knocked and opened the door of his office to announce her arrival, wondering as she did so if he lived at the office. He was always around when she left at night and immersed in work when she arrived. She had been right. He was a machine.
‘Could you work on these tapes before you do anything else?’ he commanded abruptly as he handed her two audio-tapes from his desk. ‘It’s a report involving some complex financial data and I want it done immediately. And make sure you get the numbers right,’ he added tersely.
‘Of course, Mr Strade.’ The tone and the name were a cold rebuke, and he raised his head abruptly to meet the dark, angry gleam in her eyes.
They stared at each other for a good thirty seconds before he surprised her utterly by leaning back in his chair and running his hand across his eyes with a weary gesture that spoke of utter exhaustion. ‘I’m sorry, I sounded very rude.’ The icy blue eyes were a little dazed, she realised suddenly, almost as though he hadn’t slept. ‘I’ve been here all night working on this damn mess. Why I employ an accounts department and do the work myself, I’ll never know…’
‘You’ve been here all night?’ She saw the shirt was the same one he had worn the day before, but definitely the worse for wear, and the black stubble on his square chin made her heart give a solid little kick against her breasts before she could control it.
‘Crazy, eh?’ His smile was very boyish and rueful, and again her heart jerked uncomfortably. ‘The graveyards are full of guys like me who can’t let go of a problem until they’ve beaten it.’
‘Or it beats them,’ she added quietly.
‘Yeah, maybe.’ He settled back in the big black leather chair, stretching his hands above his head in a way that brought the muscled wall of his chest into stark prominence against the blue silk of his shirt. Some time during the night he had undone his tie and opened the first