‘It’s your job to keep me out of trouble. That’s what I pay you for!’ he snapped at her, like a piranha lunging for a meal.
She snapped right back at him. ‘Oh, and all this time I thought I was hired as your secretary, not your keeper! Silly me. Remind me to change the job description when I advertise for my successor tomorrow!’
‘What?’ He looked taken aback, his brows jerking together in a scowl.
‘I’m handing in my notice!’ she said, reckless enough at that moment to jump off the top of the building. She didn’t want to leave, of course; she certainly hadn’t planned to go. She loved her job, loved working at the radio station—her work was so various and stimulating, she never knew what she would be doing each morning when she came into work. She hated to admit it but she even loved working with Sam, except when he was in a bad mood; he was a good boss, he trusted her, left her with plenty of responsibility. She liked that, enjoyed the equality they usually shared. He let her speak her mind; he listened. They had a good relationship.
But since last night everything was different. He had changed the atmosphere between them—or had she? No, it was down to both of them. Last night it had been Sam who’d behaved badly, but she had been stupid to take the game so far this morning. She should just have given him back his ring and let the matter drop. Why had she been so stupid? Now everything had become too personal, too charged, and Natalie couldn’t cope with it. She wanted to get away.
Sam glowered at her. ‘We’ve had enough bad jokes for one day, Natalie!’
‘I’m not joking. I’m resigning. As of today,’ she told him, and got up to walk out. But Sam got up too, uncoiling that long, powerful body and making her back away. There was a sense of threat about him when he looked at you like that. Anyone with any sense got out of his way.
‘You’re doing nothing of the kind!’ he said through his teeth. ‘I need you.’
Her heart flipped at the words—what did he mean by that? Was he admitting that...? But then Sam went on talking, and her heart slowed again.
‘You’ve got to talk to my mother!’ he told her fiercely. ‘According to Jeanie, she’s planning some big party to celebrate our engagement. She’s even working out where we should get married, and when, and how many guests we ought to have. You must ring her at once and put a stop to it.’
Natalie was aghast. ‘How on earth did your mother find out about last night?’
‘Jeanie says it was in a gossip column. Somebody at the party must have rung a paper. If I ever find out who did it...’
“There were some press people at the party.’ Natalie groaned, her heart sinking. ‘I’d forgotten them. They were mostly columnists, too. Entertainment reporters and gossip columnists. Oh, why did you have to drink so much?’
‘I’m turning teetotal, don’t worry!’ Sam curtly said. ‘But never mind that now—I want you to ring my mother at once.’
‘Why me? It isn’t my problem. She’s your mother—you ring her.’ Natalie was indignant; he had made this muddle, it was up to him to get himself out of it. It certainly wasn’t her fault and she did not see why she should have to do his dirty work for him.
He made a face. ‘She’ll blame me and—’
‘You are to blame!’
He didn’t like the reminder, she saw that from his eyes—Sam had a low threshold where blame was concerned—but he used a soothing voice, trying to placate her, anything to get her to do what he asked. ‘I know, I know, but she’s going to get upset, and I can’t cope with my mother when she’s upset. She’ll start worrying about you—have I hurt your feelings? How could I do that to a nice girl like you? I should be ashamed of myself—’ He broke off, seeing her expression, and gave her a sulky look. ‘All right, all right. I admit she could have a point. I’ve apologised once, Natalie—how many more times do I have to do it?’
‘I didn’t notice you doing any apologising. You seemed to think it was my fault, not yours.’
‘Well, I apologise now. How’s that? I’m sorry. Okay? Now, please ring my mother—if you talk to her she’ll realise you haven’t got a broken heart. If you tell her it was all just a joke and you never for a second thought it was serious, you knew it was just fun and the Press got it all wrong, she’ll believe you. Especially if you’re cheerful and keep laughing.’ He looked at her through those thick black lashes. ‘And, after all, you said yourself you knew it was a joke and you never took it seriously. Didn’t you? So it won’t be a problem for you—you’ll only be telling the truth, won’t you?’
She gave him a dry look. He never missed a trick, did he? That was what made him such a brilliant organiser. That was why the radio station ticked along like a well-made clock. ‘Okay,’ she sighed. ‘I’ll ring her.’
‘Now, please,’ he said—before she could change her mind, he meant!
Natalie had his mother’s number in her computer. She dialled at once, wishing Sam wouldn’t hover like that; she could feel his agitation without looking at him. The phone rang and rang without anyone picking it up. ‘Nobody in,’ she said at last, hanging up.
‘I wonder where on earth she can be?’ Sam rhetorically asked her. His mouth turned down at the edges. ‘And what she’s up to! Once my mother gets an idea in her head she wastes no time. She loves organising parties. If we don’t stop her in time she’ll have sent out dozens of invitations and spent a fortune, and it will be expensive and embarrassing putting a stop to it.’
Natalie watched him without saying, this time, what she was thinking. She had told him it served him right several times already—no point in rubbing it in. Poor Sam. He wouldn’t forget Johnny’s party in a hurry, would he?
CHAPTER THREE
NATALIE’S lunch hour began at one o‘clock, but when she looked at the clock at five to one and said, ‘Nearly lunchtime!’ Sam glowered at her.
‘If there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s clock-watching secretaries!’
He was still in a bad temper, but Natalie pretended not to notice. ‘I’m not clock-watching—I was reminding you that you’ve got a lunch appointment yourself. Had you forgotten?’
‘It’s been cancelled.’ He shrugged. ‘Hugh Sartfield’s secretary rang while you were doing those letters. Hugh has got mumps.’
Natalie couldn’t help laughing; there was something comical about the mere idea of mumps, although she knew it could be very painful.
Sam gave her a cold stare. ‘You wouldn’t think that was funny if you were a man!’
Sobering, Natalie nodded. ‘Sorry, yes, I know it can be serious for adults—poor Mr Sartfield. Let’s hope he doesn’t get any long-term effects.’
‘I spent a couple of hours with him only last week,’ Sam said, his hand rubbing one side of his face. ‘Mumps is very contagious, isn’t it? I wonder when the infectious period starts?’
‘I should ring your doctor,’ Natalie said, getting up.
‘I think I will. Hey, where do you think you’re going?’
‘Lunch.’ She wanted to get away before he could stop her, but in her hurry she tripped over her chair and couldn’t stop herself sprawling helplessly across the carpet To her fury she heard Sam laugh, then he bent, put an arm round her waist and hauled her to her feet.
‘That will teach you not to be in such a hurry!’ he said, still holding her, looking down into her face.
The fall must have knocked all the breath out of her body; she could feel her heart driving like a steamhammer inside her chest. She couldn’t meet his gaze;