LITMIR.BIZ

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ever wanted was to revisit that final scene where betrayal hung acrid in the air like smoke after a massacre. So why hadn’t he blocked her application?

      It wasn’t guilt, exactly. He’d done the right thing in the end, hadn’t he? The only thing. He could hardly believe he was still wasting his time even thinking about it.

      All right, so these days she wasn’t quite the shy, sweet little honey who’d tied his guts in knots. She’d grown up. Her green eyes had acquired the glitter of experience. Where once they’d reflected every passing emotion with honest fervour, these days they were guarded. Wary. But in the competitive jungle of office politics—a girl like her…

      The bad taste this morning’s meeting had left returned to him with full force. Why the hell was she so keen to swim with the sharks? If only she knew it, he was trying his best to protect her. Given half a chance some of those others would cut her to shreds.

      He ran a finger round the inside of his collar. How could he ever be expected to concentrate with her in the room like a woman-sized pack of dynamite?

      It had been the same since the day she started. That first morning when he’d strolled down to the coffee room and she’d wafted into view his lungs had gone into cardiac arrest.

      Old memories, old guilts had rushed to the surface, and for a guy as fit as himself his blood pressure had made a surprising leap. He’d had to close his eyes a second to reorient himself.

      She still radiated the same animal vigour that had sucked him in and driven him wild in his twenties, but now her leggy, coltish beauty had matured into sensuous, smooth-flowing curves and long, silken limbs that had rocked through him like a warm, sultry samba. Limbs he’d once enjoyed to the utmost draped around his neck.

      Her bright hair showed none of its old tendency to curl. Now it hung smooth and silky down her back. But surely that purple dress she’d worn today was a little snug? He could see what other guys would make of her. Hot.

      He was seized with a maniacal desire to rush across the room and drag some covering around her.

      As usual, just thinking of the womanly handful she’d become lit a dangerous simmer in his blood. Clearly, hiring her had been a mistake. He’d arranged for her to be tucked under Ryan Patterson’s wing for a few weeks while Patterson’s EA was on leave, just so she could at least find her feet before she was thrown in with the pack, but it didn’t help Joe Sinclair’s problem one bit. She was a burr in his imagination. In the end, unless he could work her out of his system, nothing else for it, he’d have to sack her.

      Not that he gave a damn about her now, one way or the other. Although, all right, he had taken the time to check out her personnel file just for interest’s sake.

      She still lived in Lavender Bay not far from the old neighbourhood, and still not married, apparently. Surprising really, considering the course her old man had mapped out for her.

      His mouth tightened in a grimace, though the insult had long since ceased to sting. Hell, if he’d been her father he’d probably have done the same thing. She’d been so soft, so tender and giving. Malleable. Too malleable to be at the mercy of a villain like himself. He should probably thank the old guy. It was probably the insulting lack of faith in all things Sinclair that had spurred him on to show the captain and the rest of Lavender Bay that he could rise to any height he set his mind on.

      But as for Mirandi in this world.he still couldn’t get over it. Did she have any idea of some of the cutthroat decisions she’d have to make? Perfectly good, useful projects she’d have to reject in favour of other, more lucrative investments? The hearts she’d have to break? She was as suitable for the job as a baby. Hell, with her upbringing, if she had any idea of what the board was contemplating at this very minute her tender conscience would send her running in the other direction.

      Once or twice he’d been unable to resist an impulse to stroll by Patterson’s office. Just to check she was settling in. He’d caught a few glimpses of her, once frowning in concentration at her desk, another time chatting on the phone. To a client, he hoped. She looked perfectly relaxed and confident, though sometimes people had no idea they were struggling and in need of help.

      The last time he’d given into that impulse he’d caught her laughing at something Ryan Patterson said, and she’d glanced around and spotted him strolling by. Instantly her laugh had died and her face had assumed that cool, mysterious façade that could drive a man crazy.

      He was used to his employees behaving with caution when he was around, it came with the territory, but sometimes he couldn’t help wishing he’d gone easier with her on her first day.

      He’d resisted checking on her after that, but knowing she was there, her honeyed temptation fragrancing the air along there—the same air breathed by Patterson—flavoured every minute of his every day. In fact, he wondered now if it had been such a good idea awarding Patterson the pleasure of easing her in.

      He’d chosen the guy because Patterson was mild and well liked, but the choice might have backfired.

      If only the bloke would stop raving about her abilities as if she were his own personal discovery. It wasn’t beyond the bounds of probability he was in lust with her, if a pale, blond milksop of a guy could conjure up enough red blood cells to experience anything so turbulent.

      Joe was no stranger to turbulence. Even during his recent bout of disturbed nights, those times when he was torn from his sleep in a cold sweat, as if in search of further punishment his mind had immediately turned to her. How she looked, her expression on her first day in the job when he’d been forced to show her her place.

      There’d been something in her face. Ridiculously, it brought back to him with violent force the stricken look he’d seen in her eyes that last time she’d come to his flat. How vulnerable she’d been back then. He’d seen something like that look again this morning.

      He tried to suppress a familiar twinge in his guts. It wasn’t guilt, exactly, it was just.

      He must be sick.

      His phone buzzed, and he saw it was Stella. He considered letting it ring through to the recorded message, then his conscience got the better of him.

      ‘Stella?’ As crisp as ever. Mrs Efficiency would never guess he was standing in a bar room, Scotch in hand, contemplating bolting to the ends of the earth.

      Unusually for her she sounded agitated. ‘Oh, Joe, I’m on my way to the hospital. It’s Mike, my youngest. He’s been in a bike accident and they’ve put him in intensive care. I’m sorry, but I have to be there.’

      Bloody hell. All he needed. But he said, ‘Of course, Stella. Take all the time you need.’

      ‘They’re talking about operating. I’m afraid I won’t be able to accompany you to Monaco, after all. I’m so sorry.’

      ‘Forget about it,’ he said, wincing. ‘It can’t be helped. Stay with your son. That’s where you’re needed most.’

      ‘Oh, thank you, Joe. Thanks for being so understanding. And don’t worry about your airport transfers. Those have all been taken care of. When you land in Zurich all you have to do is…’ Instructions, instructions, instructions. ‘And I’ve left the hotel confirmation on your desk. Don’t forget to…’ More instructions, more tedious details. It was a wonder she didn’t offer to pack for him. A further round of abject apologies and medical details, then the anxious mother disconnected.

      Despite his annoyance he felt a surge of approval towards his executive assistant. She’d been touchingly excited about the trip, in her restrained way. A woman prepared to make such a sacrifice for the sake of a son old enough to fend for himself was admirable. Rare, in his experience.

      His mood darkened. As if it weren’t already a bore, now it would be ten times worse. The long flight by himself, airport queues. Delays. Fights over taxis. Crowded beaches. French food, French people. Days of being locked inside conference rooms with hundreds of eager delegates from around the globe all

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