‘No, this is fine, thank you.’
Maggie poured her own coffee and went to the fridge for milk, her movements slow as she played for time to search for reason amongst the chaos of her thoughts. The sympathy in her tone had irritated her, but really there were no grounds for her to feel antagonism towards him…apart, perhaps, from those of wounded pride. After a night such as they had shared, how could he possibly not remember?
She took her mug and sat down opposite him. ‘We might as well get straight to the point,’ she said. ‘It’s obvious I’m not the right person for the work that—’
‘Connor says you are,’ he cut in coolly. ‘And you must have agreed, otherwise why are you here?’
‘I’m here because the research student Connor had originally lined up had to drop out at the very last moment. Look, I don’t know what Connor said to you, but the truth is I haven’t been anywhere near a lab since I left university, so I’m hardly the person to be assisting someone in your position.’
‘My position? Hell, all we’re talking about here is dissecting a few plants, not who or what I am. And how come you felt able to assist a guy employed by the company I run, but not me?’
‘Forgive me for sounding naïve,’ snapped Maggie, ‘but, if that’s all it is, how is it that the managing director—or whatever it is you are—of a concern as vast as Fitzpatrick Consolidated is dealing with it personally?’
‘Don’t tell me you’ve never given in to a whim, Maggie.’
Instead of rounding on him in fury as her every instinct demanded, Maggie raised her mug to her lips. His words had been loaded to the hilt…Yet, on the other hand, his expression had been utterly blank. She took several sips of her coffee as confusion seeped its way into every pore of her being.
‘Well, I didn’t happen to come here on a whim,’ she eventually responded stiffly. ‘I came here because the Prof persuaded me I’d be helping him out of a fix, and that I’d also benefit from the experience.’
‘And you’re happy to help Connor out of a fix but not me—is that what you’re saying?’
‘No, of course not! I…look, I—I don’t care wh-what either you or Connor say,’ stammered Maggie, ‘the mere fact that someone like you would involve himself in the donkey work tells me that this project is a million miles away from anything run-of-the-mill.’
He dragged his hands wearily across his face. ‘I guess a bus ride could be described as pretty run-of-the-mill,’ he sighed. ‘There again, the reason for it being taken could make it anything but.’
Maggie heard his words, but it was the faint hint of Irish brogue that had momentarily slipped into them which caught her attention, striking a chord in her that sent her thoughts careering off at a tangent She hadn’t noticed it at first, all those years ago, and even when she had later it hadn’t consciously struck her as being Irish—that soft lilt interwoven into his husky words of passion…
She gave an almost angry toss of her head. ‘Well, whatever your reasons for being here, I’m sure someone like you won’t have too much difficulty finding a suitably qualified lab assistant,’ she stated firmly, rising.
‘I’d have insurmountable difficulty,’ Slane told her quietly. ‘I don’t have the contacts Connor has here, and even his are pretty sparse, with him having been in England so long. Besides, you were his second choice. If you pull out the project will have to be scrapped until next year.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ protested Maggie, suddenly feeling horribly trapped.
‘There’s nothing ridiculous about it,’ he replied, with a barely perceptible shrug. ‘The only complicated thing about these tests is the time factor involved—and that happens to be crucial…What exactly did Connor tell you about the project?’
Maggie sat back down on her chair, her head swimming. ‘Nothing much,’ she replied, ‘except that the plant involved was on the verge of extinction and a botanist here had managed to reproduce it. He also mentioned that this plant was alleged to contain some miraculous property or other, though he seemed somewhat sceptical about that and didn’t enlarge on what it was.’
‘His scepticism is in no way misplaced,’ muttered Slane, once again dragging his hands wearily across his face. ‘But, if a minor miracle could be the end result, I guess it has to be worth a try.’
His own undisguised scepticism brought a startled look from Maggie, which in turn elicited a wry smile from her companion—a smile which, innocuous thought it was, sent a surge of unequivocally sexual longing blasting through her.
‘Or don’t you agree?’ he persisted, his smile, as it softened into a coaxing one, wreaking further havoc within her.
‘I…O-of course I agree,’ she stammered, hot colour rushing to her cheeks.
‘But?’
‘But nothing,’ she muttered, part of what Connor had said earlier ringing in her head. ‘I’ll stay.’
‘What—you’ll stay and assist me?’ he asked, his eyes wary.
‘Well, I certainly didn’t mean I was going to keep house for you,’ she snapped, appalled that she hadn’t stopped to think twice before committing herself.
To her complete surprise he slumped forward, burying his face in his arms, convulsed with laughter.
‘You might not find it quite so amusing when I tell you that as from today Mrs Morrison is off on a two-week visit to her sister in Galway.’
He groaned as he raised his head. ‘You may not believe this, but I have spent a number of years fantasising about sampling Mrs Morrison’s cooking again,’ he protested. ‘Hell, I’m almost tempted to pack my bags and go back home,’ he added, with a grin.
‘Except that you haven’t unpacked them yet,’ pointed out Maggie, finding it impossible to keep her face straight, and even more impossible to do anything about the mind-blowing effect he had on her every time he smiled.
‘You can’t wait to be rid of me, can you, Maggie?’ His words were teasing, but there was a deeper element of mockery in his eyes…Or was that simply her imagination?
‘I’ve a nasty feeling you’re going to be the one who can’t wait to get rid of me once you’re faced with exactly how rusty my lab skills are,’ she stated woodenly. ‘But as for Mrs Morrison’s cooking—there’s one of her magnificent concoctions in the oven, just waiting to be heated.’
Laughter burst unchecked from her as he clutched at his heart and rolled his eyes theatrically. There had been so many things about him that had attracted her even before the physical element had engulfed her, she thought with dismay—so why should anything be different now?
She rose to her feet. ‘Why don’t you get your things sorted and have a shower?’ she suggested, her own aplomb still a source of amazement to her. ‘And I’ll get the food under way.’
He rose from the table. ‘Maggie, I…Thanks,’ he muttered disjointedly. He hesitated as though about to say more, then turned and walked from the room.
For several seconds Maggie stood there, immobile in body and mind. When her body at last reactivated itself she switched on the oven, then prepared potatoes and carrots. By the time the potatoes were boiling she had cut the carrots into thin strips…and still her mind had not responded. Great, she told herself numbly, my mind’s packed up on me.
Close to tears, she marched over to the cooker, threw a lump of butter, some sugar and a cupful of chicken stock she’d found in the fridge into a shallow pan and added the carrots. Then she gave a dazed shake of her head. What on earth had possessed her