Page 17 of A Wedding Negotiation with Her Boss

‘I’ll have everything ready and on hand to print for signatures. I’ll make sure those niggling discrepancies are highlighted and ironed out. When Mr Diaz is ready to sign off, everything will be in place. Will we meet at the same time—eleven?’

She tilted her head to one side. Her eyes were cool and remote. The professional hat was back in place and Gabriel could scarcely reconcile his crisply spoken secretary with the woman who had stilled for a second as he’d touched her mouth; or with the woman who had let her fires rage at him for temporarily putting her nose out of joint. The woman who had been hiding a past from him he would never have expected.

Was he really not her type?

That physical response—surely it hadn’t been one-sided?Yes, he’d touched her, but she’d responded—and it hadn’t just been a case of being taken by surprise, as she’d claimed.

Did her aggressive denial of any attraction conceal a forbidden urge to touch him? Was that something she’d carefully hidden over the months and years, something she refused to acknowledge? Or was this his ego talking?

Did the lady protest too much?

It was one thing to have a clear idea of what the perfect guy might look like, and maybe she’d had that perfect guy before it had all fallen apart for whatever reason. But he was no more, and who knew? Maybe she was drawn against her will to the imperfect one...

Pointless speculation, of course.

‘Eleven it is.’ He mock-saluted her and looked at her from under sooty lashes. ‘It’s all coming along very nicely. I don’t foresee anything cropping up to throw this off course so, with a good following wind, you’ll be back in Blighty the day after tomorrow and you can put all of this behind you...’

CHAPTER FOUR

‘RIGHT.’GABRIELSLAMMEDshut his laptop and pushed himself back from the conference table at which were seated the five crucial players responsible for fine-tuning all the nuts and bolts on the deal he had just concluded. There were two highly qualified accountants, one specialising in tax, and two company lawyers to make sure every detail was in place.

And his secretary, sitting to the right of him, diligently taking minutes and printing out every piece of paper still awaiting Diaz’s signature. Every so often, in her low, modulated voice, she pointed out things that might be questionable because, as she explained, Arturio wasn’t au fait with modern-day tech-speak and altering the language slightly might work better for him.

This was how they worked—in tandem. Everything, was back in place, Gabriel thought, and all was right in the world.

Except...

He couldn’t get rid of that memory of her from two days ago when he’d surprised her swimming in the pool...and then after, the blazing fire in her eyes when she’d told him what she thought of his lifestyle choices. And the proud tilt of her head when she’d informed him in a cool, husky voice that he wasn’t her type, that she could look after herself, that she’d been engaged. She hadn’t just broken through the neat little barriers she’d built up between them, the ones he’d taken care to keep in place for fear of losing her, she’d comprehensively obliterated them, wiped her hands in satisfaction and then promptly announced that the matter had been settled, to be put behind them and forgotten for ever.

He’d made sure not to utter a word about what had happened. He had seen her the day after and they had resumed their working relationship as though that blip had never taken place.

She was polite, friendly and, of course, as efficient as always... But, when he slid his eyes to the side, he could see her smooth fingers resting on the keyboard of her laptop, as though she might be on the verge of typing something, and he had to stop his imagination from going into overdrive. If he shifted just a few inches, he would be able to brush against her arm. He was desperate to know more about her and equally desperate to steer clear of asking.

‘I’m seeing Arturio tomorrow,’ he began, standing up and, on cue, everyone followed suit, packing away stuff and hurriedly shuffling to their feet. ‘And everything is now ready for his paw print on the dotted line. I don’t foresee any hitches, and that’s down to a joint effort here. I want to thank you all for your hard work...’

He looked around him. They were a couple of guys in their fifties, serious and highly experienced in complex buy-outs, and the other two in their early thirties, fresh-faced and keen. He’d noticed the way those two had both slyly glanced at Helen every so often. One of them was married, with a ring on his finger. Hadn’t stopped his eyes from wandering Gabriel had gritted his teeth and said nothing. Of course.

‘It’s...’ he glanced at his watch ‘...not yet five. I suggest we celebrate with some champagne and an early dinner.’

There were murmurs of consent as Gabriel knew there would be. When he issued invitations, whatever the nature of the invitation, acceptance was generally a given.

‘If you don’t mind...’

Helen’s polite voice right next to him brought him to an abrupt standstill.

‘I’ll give it a miss. I fly out tomorrow and I still have packing to get through. I’m sorry I’ll miss seeing Arturio.’

He turned and frowned, and she smiled serenely back at him as she continued busying herself, stuffing her laptop into the bag and faffing with the lightweight coat she’d neatly draped over the back of her chair. Her working wardrobe was firmly in place. Forget about the casual look he’d recommended—she wore a knee-length blue skirt, blue-and-white-striped shirt tucked into the waistband of the skirt and flat canvas shoes.

What had her fiancé been like—safe, steady? Wouldn’t she see a guy like that as the opposite of him? Safe, steady...dared he say, a little on the dull side?

‘You’re part of this team,’ he said grittily, in a low undertone.

‘I’ll make sure everything’s ready by tomorrow, so all Arturio has to do is sign on the dotted line.’

‘Helen...’

‘My flight’s in the evening, so there’ll be time if I have to implement any changes.’

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