Page 49 of A Wedding Negotiation with Her Boss

Her hair was tied back and the golden glow of sun-kissed skin was fading. For a few seconds, he found that he couldn’t quite say anything but, when he did, he dived right in with what was expected of him.

‘Thanks for that report on the Turner deal,’ he drawled, tilting back the chair and folding his hands behind his head. ‘Really no need to have interrupted your holiday with work issues.’

He glanced at his computer, which was whirring, and then rested his dark eyes on her. Irritatingly, memory mingled with common sense, and he had to fight from his thoughts unravelling.

He tore his eyes away, frustrated with his own weakness, and gazed at the columns and numbers on his screen, aware of her slipping into the chair facing his desk, as she always did.

Helen had steeled herself for this.

What could she expect? At any rate, it was something she had to get over and done with, and she’d been was glad of the break to see her dad, which had gone a little way to easing the ball of nerves in the pit of her stomach.

She noted that he could barely meet her eyes. There had been no flash of—anything. He was already over it, and she knew that she shouldn’t be surprised, because that was how it worked with him. She might occupy a different rank to the Fifis of this world but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t disposable, just like the rest of his girlfriends—marriage proposal or no marriage proposal.

But her heart was beating so fast, and she just wanted to drink him in, to succumb to the onslaught of sweet memories.

She slipped the letter out of her bag and shoved it across the desk to him.

‘What’s this?’

‘You should read it.’

Once upon a long time ago, she had told him that she would hand in her notice if he couldn’t obey her ‘Keep Out’ signs; if he couldn’t accept that one kiss would never lead to anything more. So much water had flowed under that particular bridge and now it was truly impossible to pick up the working relationship they had left behind them. That was the conclusion she had reached during her stay in Cornwall, when she had done nothing but think and think and think.

She could stay on working for him, but there was no point kidding herself that seeing him every day, remembering what had happened between them and being exposed to his wit, charm and wonderful, mesmerising charisma wouldn’t leave her a broken person.

She would have to leave; she would have to move on, take charge of her life and not let memories of him dictate a future of non-engagement. She didn’t want to get buried under sadness and disillusionment. There were positives in life to be found even in the darkest of situations, and she would have to think that he had shown her what it felt like to be really and truly alive. And even if things had crashed and burned, that in itself was a blessing.

She had hung onto that silver lining during her week away and made the most of it. She had phoned the one friend she knew who could yank her out of the doldrums and arranged to meet as soon as she was back in London. If she had to get back on the bike, the sooner she got on, the better and Lucy, who knew her better than anyone, would help with that.

She had beenproactive.

Their eyes met and he slowly took the piece of paper, read what was written on it and pushed it to one side.

‘No.’

‘No what?’

‘No, I don’t accept your resignation.’

‘You can’tnotaccept my resignation, Gabriel.’

‘This wasn’t part of the plan!’

‘Plans change.’ She jutted her chin at a defiant angle and stared at him for a few seconds. ‘I did some thinking when I went to see my dad and I realised that, after everything that’s happened between us, working closely with you would be impossible for me.’

‘Why?’

He pushed himself aggressively away from his desk and walked jerkily towards the bank of windows, leaning against one of the glass panes to glare at her.

With the sun streaming behind him, he was a towering, imposing silhouette—a dominant alpha male reacting to something he didn’t like.

‘Why do you think?’

‘We agreed that we would only embark on—what we embarked on—on the understanding that it wouldn’t affect our working relationship.’ He knew—of course he did. Having always been the guy who did nothing without first working out possible consequences—the guy who knew how to control life, because it was better he control life than life control him—he had thrown it all through the window and galloped down a road that had led him right to this point.

‘Maybe I can’t be as unemotional about it as you, Gabriel.’

‘What are you trying to say?’

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