‘It’s Colin.’ Max had already swung the door wide again and as Gillian hurried to the phone with a muttered, ‘I’m sorry,’ he leant lazily against the outer wall in the corridor outside, his gaze switching to Cory with alarming suddenness and pinning her to the spot. She stared back at him, willing her nerves not to show.
‘How was the first morning?’ he asked in that husky dark voice that sent her nerve-endings into hyperdrive.
‘Good.’ She nodded in what she hoped was a brisk fashion, and prayed he would put her burning cheeks down to the central heating which was of the hothouse variety. This was stupid, this was so stupid, Cory told herself angrily as she frantically searched her blank mind for something to say. She was supposed to be working for the man from nine to five—or six or seven, whatever the day demanded—five days a week, but at this rate she wouldn’t survive the day, let alone the first week.
She had been so composed and cool and calm at that initial interview back in February. The pain and misery of Vivian’s engagement party two days before had been so vivid in her mind that a kind of numb fatalism had guided her through the ordeal of Gillian’s hundred and one questions and practical tests; she’d felt then that the worst that could possibly happen had happened, so what was the success or failure of a job interview compared to Vivian marrying someone else? In fact she’d still felt like that right up until… When? This morning at nine o’clock. When she’d looked into a pair of narrowed tawny eyes set in the coldest face she had ever seen. And also the most attractive, she added wryly.
‘Good?’ He drawled the word slowly with a hint of mockery. ‘Care to elaborate on that enigmatic statement?’
No, she wouldn’t, and she wasn’t mad about his supercilious attitude either. Funnily enough the thought brought two of Max’s aforementioned Bs—backbone and boldness—into play, and she heard herself saying, her voice firm now and aiming at polite reserve rather than the cutting coldness she would have loved to display, ‘It would be foolish of me to venture an opinion after just three hours, don’t you think? But certainly Gillian has been extremely helpful and kind.’ She raised her chin and straightened her shoulders.
‘It would be impossible for Gillian to be anything else.’ There was genuine warmth in his voice for the first time and it made the smoky effect lethal. ‘She’s a secretary in a million.’
‘That’s just what she said about—’ Cory stopped abruptly. She wasn’t at all sure Gillian would appreciate her repeating her earlier comment, besides which, this man’s ego was big enough as it was. But it was too late. He’d homed in like a nuclear missile.
‘About?’ he questioned softly, but she knew they were both aware of what she had been about to say. It was there in the eyes.
‘About you,’ Cory admitted grudgingly. ‘She said you were a boss in a million.’
‘And you doubt that very much.’ The hint of laughter was unmistakable. Cory was too surprised to do anything but stare at him, her green eyes with their mercurial violet tinge wide and her full-lipped mouth slightly agape as she searched her mind for a response.
Max Hunter seemed to be enjoying himself. She watched him settle more comfortably against the wall, and there was a definite measure of satisfaction in the deep voice when he said, ‘True or false?’ as black eyebrows rose mockingly.
He was as unlike her previous employer as it was possible to be! The thought flashed through Cory’s head and brought small, strutting Mr Stanley, with his formal, ritualistic working mode and almost phobic fear of any relaxing of office protocol or decorum, there in front of her for a moment. He would no more have a conversation like this with his secretary than fly to the moon! Mind you, she wasn’t Max Hunter’s secretary, not yet, and perhaps he never intended for her to be? Perhaps she didn’t want to be? And she agreed with Gillian’s statement—Max Hunter was certainly a boss in a million all right. It was just the way he’d earned the title she and his secretary differed on, Cory thought caustically.
It was the last thought that opened Cory’s mouth and enabled her to say, with suspect sweetness, ‘I’m sure Gillian is absolutely right, Mr Hunter, when she says you’re one on your own?’
‘Max,’ he corrected smoothly, ‘and I’ve been insulted less prettily in my time. Do you work as well as you fence, Cory?’
She wasn’t going to win a war of words with this man. For the second time in as many minutes Cory found herself with her mouth open and she shut it quickly with a little snap. ‘Better,’ she said brightly. This job was a non-starter. She knew it.
‘Then we’ll get on just fine.’ He levered himself straight.
It was as he turned to face the doorway through which Gillian was walking that Cory noticed the scar on the right side of his neck. It was long and jagged, starting above his ear in his hair and disappearing down into the collar of his shirt, and spoke of a savage accident. The scar itself was silver but due to his dark tan it stood out quite distinctly from the surrounding skin, and for a moment or two Cory couldn’t take her eyes off it. She had averted her gaze by the time he turned to her again, but it had really shocked her. What on earth had happened to him?
‘I’m sorry I’ve kept you both waiting.’ Gillian was flushed and flustered, and when her voice wobbled a little and she added, ‘It’s Colin—he’s not well,’ Max took the older woman’s arm as the three of them entered the waiting lift.
‘What is it?’ he asked with surprising gentleness. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Oh, nothing, not really.’ Gillian breathed in deeply. ‘A touch of food poisoning, they think. Colin says it’s not serious.’
‘But you’re missing him, and no doubt he’s missing you.’
‘Uh-huh.’ Gillian nodded and then managed a fairly normal smile as she included Cory in her rueful grimace. ‘Pathetic, isn’t it? But the last eight weeks are the first time we’ve been apart in our twenty years of married life and it feels so strange. Still, at least Colin’s found a gorgeous apartment out there and everything is going to be done when I arrive on the doorstep in six weeks’ time.’
Six weeks. Six weeks! And then—if she was still here, that was—there would be only Max Hunter and herself and no comforting, homely Gillian around. Cory missed her step as she followed the older woman into the lift and immediately a warm firm hand fastened on her elbow. ‘Careful.’ He was just behind her and his six feet four towered over her five feet five as she turned to murmur her thanks. ‘We don’t want you breaking your neck on the first day, do we?’ he added evenly. ‘And certainly not in this building. I can do without a lawsuit for industrial injury.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of suing you for something that was my own fault,’ Cory answered hotly as though the accusation were a reality.
‘No?’ It was blatantly cynical, his firm, cruel mouth twisting mockingly at the fierceness of her protest.
‘No.’ She stared up at him, her mouth very firm, and they were both unaware of the interested spectator watching the little drama in front of her. ‘That would be positively immoral.’
‘Immoral…’ He considered the word lazily.
Cory was instantly aware she had chosen an unfortunate turn of phrase but it was too late to retract it. She’d have to bluff.
‘And you are always…moral, Cory?’ he asked quietly, with hateful butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-my-mouth innocence.
‘Always.’ This wasn’t going to work. This job definitely wasn’t going to work. For some reason he didn’t like her; there was veiled antagonism in his every word, his every glance, and she wasn’t imagining it. He had been gentle, understanding even, with Gillian, but with her it was almost