All her dreams, all her aspirations since she had first learnt to toddle, had been tied up with the tall, handsome man who had just left the house so abruptly and she was going to have to learn how to face the rest of her life without him, and, having learnt it, to carve a future for herself. It wasn’t the path she would have chosen, it certainly wasn’t the path that was going to bring her the sort of cosy family joy and harmony she had foreseen for herself, but there had been enough crying over spilt milk and she didn’t like the person she was turning into.
Her back straightened and her shoulders pulled back as she emphasised the thought. She wasn’t a whinger. She’d never been a whinger, and enough was enough. She was young, she was intelligent, and there was life after Vivian Batley-Thomas…gorgeous as he was. No! The last thought had crept in all by itself, and Cory frowned determinedly. She couldn’t afford to think like that any more, even for a moment. Gorgeous he might be, available he wasn’t. End of story.
‘Cory, how nice to see you again, and please, call me Gillian.’
It was a cold April morning four weeks later, and, having taken up residence in her compact but attractive bedsitter the Friday before, Cory had just nervously entered the high-rise offices of Hunter Operations. The building was big, flamboyant and luxurious, and left the neat little offices of Stanley & Thornton’s, Engineering Specialists, in the cold, but Gillian Cox’s smile was warm and went some way to alleviating the panic Cory was feeling as she faced the chairman’s secretary on this, the first morning of the new job.
‘Hello, Gillian.’ Amazingly her voice sounded nearly normal. ‘It’s nice to see you again too. How are you?’
‘Rushed off my feet, half insane and heading for a nervous breakdown. Other than that, fine.’ Gillian’s smile widened. She had kindly come to Reception to welcome Cory personally and now walked her over to the lift, saying brightly before pressing the button, ‘You must be dying to meet Max; it’s not often one doesn’t get to meet one’s boss until the first day of employment, is it?’
‘No.’ Cory’s voice was weak. She’d thought that herself!
‘But he’s back from that awful Far East session of conferences and tours, and it’s proved very fruitful which is the main thing. And you’ll get on fine with him, Cory, really. He’s a boss in a million. If it hadn’t been for Colin landing such a wonderful job in the States I’d never have dreamt of leaving Hunter Operations, especially after fifteen years with Max, but it’s very important to Colin that we begin the cocktail round and so on as soon as possible. You know how these huge conglomerates work,’ she added cheerily.
No, she didn’t, but she didn’t like to say so.
Gillian was still talking when the lift stopped at the exalted top floor and as the doors slid open to reveal lush thick cream carpets and brushed linen walls, the hushed calm was rudely shattered by a very irate, very male voice bellowing, ‘Gillian? For crying out loud, woman! Where’s that fax from Katchui?’
Cory’s eyes shot to the doorway halfway down the wide corridor and to the big dark man filling it, but Max Hunter had eyes for no one but his cool and apparently unruffable secretary who, after a quick aside for Cory to wait in her own office directly opposite them, glided forward, saying calmly, ‘It’s on your desk, Max, where it’s been for the last three days, but no doubt you’ve buried it under that mountain of paperwork you’ve been looking at all weekend.’
Gillian disappeared through the doorway but it was a moment or two before Cory could force her legs to take her into the other woman’s office, which would soon become hers if this job worked out. Although, having now seen the formidable Max Hunter, she had her doubts about that very thing, she thought a trifle ruefully.
The man in the doorway had been big, very big—at least six feet four—and broad with it. He wasn’t old; Gillian had told her Max Hunter’s father—who had started the Hunter empire in the late fifties—had died fifteen years ago when his son had inherited at the tender age of twenty-three, but her glimpse of the hard male face and black hair dusted with silver had suggested a man some few years older than his thirty-eight years. And his manner…Cory breathed deeply as she sank into one of the plumply upholstered easy chairs dotted about Gillian’s vast quarters. His manner didn’t exactly tally with this supposed ‘boss in a million’ that Gillian had been so enthusiastic about at her interview.
‘All’s calm again on the western front.’ Gillian was beaming as she bustled through the interconnecting door between her office and that of Max Hunter. ‘He’d got Mr Katchui hanging on on the phone and Max hates to be anything less than one hundred per cent in control,’ she said brightly. ‘Typical man.’
Cory nodded without saying anything; she’d gathered that much for herself. She smoothed down the slim pencil skirt of the new navy blue suit that had cost her an arm and a leg, cleared her throat and had just opened her mouth to ask something intelligent when Gillian completely took the wind out of her sails as she leant forward and said, her voice urgent, ‘Don’t take any notice of how Max is, Cory—his manner and how he talks and everything. He really is a lovely man underneath it all. We’ve always got on great.’
‘You have?’ Cory needed every bit of reassurance she could get.
‘Definitely.’ Gillian nodded firmly. ‘But he just takes a bit of getting used to. He’s very sure about what he wants and even more so about what he doesn’t, and he doesn’t suffer fools gladly. Well, he doesn’t suffer them at all actually.’ She grinned at Cory who bared her teeth in feeble response.
‘And he has very rigid views about people,’ Gillian went on.
This was getting worse by the minute!
‘I interviewed ten applicants on his behalf, you know, and, knowing Max like I do, you were the only one who met his criteria. Some of them were too officious and some not officious enough, one or two had a baby glint in their eyes and dealing with maternity leave and all that paraphernalia would drive Max mad; he’s awful to temps. And he doesn’t appreciate women who titivate all the time, or clock-watch, and he expects one hundred per cent discretion at all times of course.’ She smiled sunnily, her face serene.
‘Of course.’ Cory gulped audibly. She had to take all this as a compliment that she was the one Gillian had thought fitting, she told herself desperately, but right at the moment it was hard. ‘Well, you’ve told me what he doesn’t like, Gillian,’ she said carefully. ‘Perhaps I’d better know the positive side too?’
And then a deep cold voice brought both their heads turning as it said expressionlessly, ‘In essence the five Bs—brains, backbone, breeding, boldness and…’ The pause was deliberate.
‘And?’ She had had to force herself to speak; close to, this man was positively devastating but she dared not let his effect on her show. She had been right in thinking his face was hard, but it was more than that, much more. The dark tanned skin was pulled tight over a chiselled bone structure that was disturbingly masculine, the aquiline nose and strong mouth increasing the impression of severity. But it was the eyes—amazingly beautiful tawny-gold eyes shaded by thick black lashes—which gave his gaze a ruthlessly piercing quality that was totally unnerving and more than a little formidable.
She had never in all her life seen eyes like this man’s, and when added to his overall height and breadth—which she now saw was made up of muscle and bone and not fat—and the perturbingly cruel nature of his magnetic good looks the end result was almost paralysing. She couldn’t believe this was her boss.
‘And beauty,’ he finished laconically, and in the split second before he smiled and moved forward to shake her hand Cory was conscious of that golden light shooting right down to her toes.
She recovered quickly, jumping to her feet and putting out her hand which was swallowed