The Temp and the Tycoon. Liz Fielding

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СКАЧАТЬ you could tell a lot from a man by looking at his hands.

      His lied.

      She handed over her passport and tickets. The clerk already had all the details of the change of passenger in her computer, so there was no delay, and it occurred to her that, for a woman distracted by the difficulties of her daughter’s labour, Heather had done an amazing job of handling the details so that Jude Radcliffe’s life would proceed as smoothly as if she was there herself.

      It was scarcely surprising that he was irritated to discover that instead of perfection he’d been lumbered with her. Maybe she was being a little harsh. Stifling a yawn, she made a silent vow not to do anything to annoy him further as she and the wheel-on laptop bag put in the occasional hop and skip in an attempt to keep pace with him as he strode towards the boarding gate, making no concession to the fact that her legs were at least a foot shorter than his.

      She revised her earlier regret about her shoes, too.

      In four-inch heels she’d never have made it.

      She also vowed to keep her mouth shut. Not speak unless she was spoken to.

      It wasn’t easy. Her student travelling had been done using the cross-Channel ferry and backpacking across Europe, which she’d loved. Her one and only experience of flying was cattle-class on a package tour charter flight, and she’d hated every minute of it.

      But this was different, and despite her apprehension—she refused to admit to the flutter of anxiety that until now she’d been too distracted to notice—she looked about her, eager to enthuse about the size of the seats, the amount of space each passenger had and the neat little individual television screens. She always talked too much when she was nervous.

      Biting her lower lip to keep her mouth shut, she explored her space, picking up the entertainment programme. ‘We get a choice of films?’ she asked, forgetting her vow of silence in her astonishment.

      ‘Other people might. You are here to work.’

       For seven solid hours?

      ‘Of course. I was merely making an observation,’ she said crisply, and, restricting her enthusiasm to the business at hand, she opened the laptop bag. ‘This is the note that Heather sent you, Mr Radcliffe,’ she said, handing him an envelope. ‘To explain about me.’

      ‘I know all about you,’ he said, without enthusiasm. ‘You watch romantic films, attract trouble and are always late.’

      This was definitely a moment for silence.

      Satisfied, he said, ‘And you will call me Jude.’

      ‘Oh, but I couldn’t!’

      Well, that didn’t last long…

      ‘Try,’ Jude insisted, trying very hard to keep his temper. Why on earth had Heather picked this woman as her stand-in? It was bad enough that he’d found himself constantly distracted by the memory of those few seconds they’d spent together in the lift, wasting time he’d allocated to thinking about the direction in which he should take the company during the next five years.

      Instead of planning corporate strategy he’d been thinking about her ridiculous hair. That totally infectious smile…

      He needed someone he could trust on this trip, and Heather was the one who’d suggested that this girl might have been putting on an act, for heaven’s sake. That her story had been just that. A story to snag his attention.

      Except he’d just seen her in action. If she was that good an actress she was wasting her time in an office. But somehow the fact that her compassion, her enthusiasm for life, wasn’t an act disturbed him far more. He was more comfortable with guile. Understood it. Knew how to handle it.

      He took a slow breath. He was stuck with her and they’d both have to live with it.

      ‘I may be a bastard,’ he said. ‘Although my mother might take issue with you on that. And I certainly don’t suffer fools in any shape or form in my organisation. But Heather calls me Jude and so will you.’ Then, in case she was under any misapprehension that he was being friendly—he was deeply regretting his uncharacteristic impulse to hold the lift for her— ‘That way I won’t be constantly reminded of her absence every time you speak.’

      And, without waiting for her to reply, he opened the envelope and took out a single folded sheet of paper. The note was brief and to the point.

      Jude, I know you’re going to be furious that I’ve had to miss this trip, but you know you’re going to have to get used to working without me in the near future. I gave you a year to find a replacement and time is running out. And, no, I didn’t do this deliberately. Even you must realise that I can’t control the arrival of an impatient baby.

      Just don’t take it out on Talie. It’s not her fault. Mike raved about her. She takes shorthand verbatim, and I took the trouble to check out her story about the incident on the Underground last week. Unlikely as it may seem, your little blonde was telling the truth.

      I know—she’s almost too good to be true. But I’m sure a week working for you will bring out any hidden flaws. If you behave yourself, you might even be able to persuade her to take you on full time. Heather.

      He glanced down at the girl sitting beside him.’ Heather suggests you’re almost too good to be true. Shall we see if she’s right?’

      ‘What?’

      It was just as well her eyes were blue or he’d be forced to compare them with a startled doe’s.

      What an appallingly banal thought.

      At least she’d made an effort to get her hair under control, stuffing it up into some kind of knot on the top of her head that was not so much a bun, more a cottage loaf. Even as he congratulated himself a curl sprang free, refusing to be confined by anything so feeble as a hairpin.

      Realising that she was still staring up at him like a startled blue-eyed—and there really was no other word for it—doe, he said, ‘If you’d like to get out your notebook some time before we arrive in New York, maybe I can find out if you’re as good as Mike and Heather claim you are,’ he prompted.

      ‘But we haven’t even taken off…’ She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, presumably to prevent the rest of the sentence from escaping and thus provoking further sarcasm.

      And that irritated him, too. He felt like being seriously—‘Would you fasten your seat-belts, please?’ a stewardess said as she walked through the cabin, checking that everything was properly stowed. ‘We’ll be taking off shortly.’

      Talie, it seemed, had a firm grasp of the priorities and got out her notebook before she fastened her seat-belt, made a note of the time and date, wrote something else in shorthand—probably what she wanted to say out loud but thought it wiser not to—and then turned to him, her pencil poised and waiting.

      ‘Whenever you’re ready,’ she said. ‘Jude.’

      He dragged his attention from her hair, which was slowly unravelling, and began to dictate a series of notes on the ideas he’d had during his solitary days walking in the Scottish Highlands. The ones that didn’t involve the dimple that appeared for no reason at all every now and then at the corner СКАЧАТЬ